Sarah handed her some lace to hold against her new dress, and Charlotte did so, watching her friend as a small smile flitted across her face.
“I have no reason other than that she seemed to know you. You have been introduced?”
“We have not.”
“As I thought.” But Sarah said no more, and the modiste returned to see to the last of Charlotte’s alterations.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Following the modiste, Sarah and Charlotte had an engagement at Lady Winterson’s literary salon that afternoon. Once more, Charlotte was thrust into the sharp scrutiny of society and could not help but long for her quiet days in the country again.
Sarah was a steady source of reassurance, and as they entered the drawing room of the elegant townhouse, for the first time, Charlotte received some friendly greetings from her peers. She felt that she was at least being recognized as more than just her mother’s carer now, which was a great relief.
Her father had begged off the event, citing a megrim, which Charlotte was grateful for. Her father’s expectations still rumbled at the back of her mind, but being granted a reprieve from his constant observations was freeing. She was also pleased to see that from the first scan of the room, Lord Kilby was not present.
She and Sarah took their seats, the room filling with the gentle murmur of intellectual conversation. A strange awareness overcame Charlotte as she settled her dress. She turned in her seat to see the duke enter the room with his mother. It only took a very short time for his eyes to find hers, and that gentle warmth came into them as he nodded in her direction. Charlotte inclined her head but turned back to face the front of the room, aware that any time spent lingering on him would only start tongues wagging.
Colin found it difficult to keep his eyes diverted elsewhere from the back of Lady Wentworth’s head. She was sitting with Miss Gilmore and speaking to some of the women in her close vicinity, and Colin longed to move closer to her.
Lady Winterson entered shortly after inviting them all to join her in her salon. The whole party moved into another room where several books and publications had been placed for them to discuss.
“I am feeling rather tired, Colin,” his mother said, although she had seemed quite spritely only minutes before. “I think I shall sit at the back of the room and get involved in the next discussion. I have little interest in poetry.”
Colin ensured she was happily settled and then made for his seat, excited to see that Lady Wentworth had a space beside her, and in an act of true boldness, he came level with her, bowing low.
“May I join you, Lady Wentworth?”
“Of course, your Grace,” she said with a smile, and Colin took his seat.
“Have you seen any of the volumes that we might be discussing today?”
“Not as yet, your Grace. Are you anticipating a particular title?”
Colin glanced at her, wondering whether he should continue their tradition and be truly open with her. He greatly relished that side of their relationship. He felt that his guarded nature did not falter with many people so easily, but with Lady Wentworth, it was not a burden to be himself.
“Last time I came to one of these events, I believe it was last year, Lady Winterson had some rather controversial political pamphlets to discuss. I confess they are not to everyone’s taste, but I enjoy politics and reading about the rights of man. Not to say poetry is, as you know, something I highly value.”
“I believe any man who is not interested in politics is not interested in the world about him,” she said evenly. “I have had rather a sheltered existence, as I have repeatedly been told oflate, and I would welcome a chance to hear your views on many subjects, your Grace.”
Although his heart was singing at her, wishing to hear his point of view, Colin frowned as he saw the shadow pass across her face. “Sheltered, Lady Wentworth? You made the ultimate sacrifice to care for a loved one. That is not to be criticized in any quarter.” The bite in his voice was rather harsh as his protectiveness came to the fore, and he cleared his throat hurriedly. When he looked at her again, he was horrified to see that there were tears in her eyes. “I am sorry, I should not have mentioned it.”
“No,” she said firmly. “So few see it that way. It is refreshing, your Grace. I may have missed a great deal of my early life in society, but I would not change it for the world.”
“Nor should you,” he murmured as Lady Winterson came to the front of the room and clapped her hands for silence.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming to our little soiree. There are several volumes for us to discuss on the small tables before you. Each ordered differently so that you will all discuss a different book each time the bell rings.” Lady Winterson was an older, rather portly woman, and Charlotte felt great affection for her because of the excitement in her eyes at her event. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves; may the discussion commence!”
Charlotte chuckled. “She is like a mother goose admiring her goslings,” she said.
“Lady Winterson adores these functions,” Colin said happily. “I have been to a few, and they are always excellent. Shall we dive in?”
“Certainly.”
“I can see you already have your eye on something.”
Charlotte laughed. “You know me, your Grace, I cannot resist a poem.” She picked upThe Lady of the Lakeby Sir WalterScott and opened the pages, looking at the cascading verses before her.
Lady Wentworth handed him the book, and their fingers brushed as she did so, and Colin could not suppress a gasp of pleasure. Both of them seemed to freeze in place as their eyes met, and, mindful of those about them, both hastily looked down at the book.
