Charlotte turned away, suddenly feeling both transparent and terribly foolish. The night air, which had felt so refreshing moments ago, now seemed far too chilly. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and climbed into their waiting carriage, wishing she could leave her tangled emotions behind in the dust of the London streets.
Her mother clearly knew about her preference for the duke.
How dreadfully embarrassing.
CHAPTER 4
“Ouch!”Charlotte sucked the tip of her finger where the needle had pricked it, looking over her shoulder to be sure her mother wasn’t around to witness her clumsiness. Needlepoint wasn’t her favorite task on the best of the days, but this morning, she was particularly distracted.
Her mother had caught her daydreaming at church earlier in the day and gave her a worried frown that made Charlotte blush, her thoughts immediately going back to the previous evening. She’d hoped her mother didn’t think that she was daydreaming over the duke.
Not that thinking about the duke was unusual for her, but he wasn’t the current object of her mind’s wanderings. Instead, she kept thinking back to her conversation with Genevieve at the recital as well as to last week’s ball and the terrible future that poor Victoria faced. It seemed all of her friends were in danger of suffering that same fate, or near enough.
Therehadto be something that they could do about it.
“Charlotte?” Lady Fitzgerald appeared in the doorway, looking pleased about something. “You have a caller, my dear.”
“On a Sunday?”
“I’ll tell Mary to set the table for tea,” her mother replied, sweeping away down the corridor. Within minutes, Mary, the maid, arrived with the tea things and arranged them on the small wooden table near the chaise where Charlotte was sitting.
The housemaid, Sally, followed her, plumping up the cushions, checking the large piano in the corner for dust, and adjusting the ties on the curtains, which were a tasteful gold that matched the cream walls. Lady Fitzgerald, of course, was known for her impeccable taste.
“Stop fluttering, Sally.” Charlotte laughed, wondering who the visitor could be that prompted such an inspection.
A sudden, wild hope flared in her. Could it be the duke?
But no. She quashed the thought as soon as it came. William was at the club, and there was no reason that the Duke of Arundel would call onherat a Sunday lunchtime. Yes, he had been attentive at the ball, but he had made it quite clear that was only because he was trying to escape prospective matches. He had no interest in her other than in the brotherly sense.
More’s the pity.
The footman stepped into the room. “Sir Roger Leonard, ma’am.”
Charlotte got to her feet, feeling dizzy as the blood drained from her face. Why on earth was Sir Roger here?
The man entered the room, followed by Lady Fitzgerald looking rather too pleased with herself, and Charlotte widened her eyes at her mother in panic. Surely, Sir Roger wasn’t being considered as a prospective suitor for her hand?
Sir Roger, dressed in a garish orange waistcoat that clashed with the tasteful decor of the drawing room, bowed in front of her. Charlotte tried not to flinch as his rubbery lips met the back of her hand.
“It is a pleasure, my dear,” he said, passing her a huge bouquet of flowers.
Too shocked to respond, Charlotte merely gaped at him. Her mother bustled over, shooting Charlotte a stern look.
“They are just delightful, aren’t they Charlotte, dear? Sally, do go put these in water. Please sit down, Sir Roger. Will you take some tea?”
“Er, yes, they are very nice. Thank you.” Charlotte sat down and then discreetly moved nearer to the other end of the chaise longue as Sir Roger sat next to her. He was wearing a heavily fragrant cologne that only blended with the odor of his sweat rather than masked it. The scent made her nose wrinkle, and she struggled to arrange her face into a polite expression as Mary poured the tea.
Her mother seated herself near the piano, chaperoning them but also making it clear that Charlotte was to entertain Sir Roger, not simply sit in the corner and allow her mother to do so.
“You’re looking as delightful as ever, Lady Charlotte,” Sir Roger told her, his eyes roaming her body in a way that she thought most improper.
She looked at her mother for help, but at the angle she was seated, Lady Fitzgerald couldn’t see Leonard’s face. Instead, she was not too subtly glaring at Charlotte, silently instructing her to make small talk. She wished, briefly, that her father was still alive. He surely wouldn’t expect Charlotte to welcome the suit of a man like Sir Roger Leonard.
She swallowed and smiled politely, catching Sir Roger’s eye and holding it, as if to let him know that she had caught him leering at her. But he merely winked at her.
My God, he believes I’m flirting with him!Charlotte thought, horrified. She reached for her tea, her fingers trembling around the handle of the cup.
“It’s very kind of you to visit,” she said, sipping her tea.
