Her friend straightened in her chair and put her glass down, her smile fading. “Char, all joking aside, what I am hearing is that he was open to being tied, willing to call you Mistress, bold enough to pursue to a point, and has an innate understanding that you need to take it from there. How is that not everything you want?”
“He is barely more than half my age.”
“You were his age when you married Charles.”
Charlotte clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t thought of that. William seemed so young. Had her husband seen her the same way? How difficult it must have been for him when he’d been looking for someone to take charge. She shook her head. “You know it’s different for women, at least in the Ton’s eyes.”
After letting Charlotte contemplate that comparison for a long silent moment, Belle added, “As I said, I’m not pushing you to wed him. Only to tup him.”
Charlotte broke down in laughter, meeting Belle’s glass with her own in a giggling toast to that idea, even if she daren’t follow through on it.
“When and what is your next sojourn?” Belle asked.
“The salon. A talk on a new industry. I think the smaller group will help me renew acquaintances better and be less distracted. I’ve had enough of feeling like an oddity at balls for a bit.”
Her friend always had to have the last word. “Distracted by rakelets. I can’t wait for the next ball. This is better than a play.”
* * * *
Charlotte surveyed the small group. When Belle had pushed her to re-enter society, she sent notes to the couples that she and Charles had spent the most time with. Several of them had responded, inviting her to call upon them. The hosts of tonight’s event had sent an invitation to tonight’s gathering.
In addition to being more confident she’d know people here, she also enjoyed the lack of a ball’s marriage mart ambiance. Here, no matter how many people she did or did not talk to, she would get to learn something new.
Tonight’s lecture featured a speaker about the steam engine locomotive invented up near Leeds a few years ago. Science was not her strength—she’d much rather read poetry—but this was an opportunity to re-engage her brain in learning new things with others similarly inclined, and research possible investments. The steam locomotives had already proven invaluable to northern commerce, and she wanted to ascertain the appropriateness and safety for ships. This could mean the difference between back-breaking labor—and labor on their backs for some—and the ability to stop working at a reasonable age for a number of women in her and Leah’s investment pools.
Her hair, too long for the current trend, was pinned up in curls again to try to replicate the currently popular shorter looks. It was uncomfortable, but the gathering would not last as long as a ball, so she’d make do. Her gown this evening was a mint green with rose embroidery. She was still getting used to evening gowns again with their lower décolletage, and her hand kept inching up to trace her collarbone and Charles’s pendant.
Already feeling exposed, she shivered, her skin pebbling, although there was no draft. She glanced around and found eager chocolate puppy eyes staring at her from a corner. She refused to believe that she had sensed him, instead telling herself a chill had made her nipples perk up. Frowning at him, she then smoothed her brow and looked forward again, moving away from the door to find a seat.
Another friend waved at her from across the room and turned to point her out to his wife. Charlotte returned the greeting and started toward them. They were drawn into conversation by other guests then, and she diverted to a row of empty chairs.
Spiced rum heralded William’s arrival beside her.
“Mistress P, may I take this seat?”
“You already have—and that form of address is not suitable in public, Lord Stanton.”
“My apologies, my lady. I dared to sit here because I cannot believe such a setting will risk your reputation.”
She stared ahead.
He continued, unfazed by her silence. “What prompts your interest in steam power?”
Surprise flickered through her. He assumed she was here for the content, the learning.
“I am considering investing.” She waited for the inevitable question about her solicitor handling such things, but it never came.
Instead, he asked, “What do you think of the locomotive line then?”
“It sounds like an efficient way to get coal from the mines to the towns in the area, one less weather dependent than the roads. It makes me wonder what else could be transported thusly, if the railway lines were expanded.” She had discussed this with her brother-in-law months ago, as Peterborough was well-placed to benefit from such an expansion.
“I agree. I should like to hear your thoughts after the talk.” He changed the subject. “I noticed you were reading Homer the other afternoon. Are you enjoying him?”
She shot him a sharp look. He was very observant. Threading the needle in not taking her note as a “no” had proven that, and his comment now reinforced it. He was also bold to reference his call when she’d admonished him about the risks. She should discourage such behavior, but a kernel of excitement ignited in her; it had been too long since she had discussed intellectual pursuits with someone like-minded. “Oh, yes. The layers of Telemachus coming of age, Penelope’s perseverance, and Odysseus’s travels and trials are excellent.”
“Was it perhaps Calypso enjoying holding Odysseus her captive?”
Oh, mmm.At that image, her cheeks heated and she glanced away from him. A different sort of warmth low in her belly made her want to squirm.
