Mr. Clarke bowed, lingering just a little too long over the back of her hand. “May I escort you to dinner, my lady?”
Charlotte had no graceful way to refuse, so she placed her hand lightly on his arm. At the table, to her disappointment, she found herself seated nowhere near Henry. Mr. Clarke sat on one side of her, her mother and William on the other. Happily, Genevieve and Felicity were seated opposite; but Henry was nowhere to be seen.
Pretending to drop her napkin, she leaned forward and scanned the length of gleaming cutlery and crystal glasses, spotting Henry right at the opposite end of the huge table. Her stomach sank. She would not be speaking to him over the first night’s dinner.
He was engrossed in conversation with a small group that included two elegant young women, both of whom lookedevery inch the fashionable debutante. One had dark hair and bewitching eyes. She was possessed of the sort of beauty that immediately made Charlotte feel dull by comparison.
Charlotte mustered a half smile when the other woman glanced in her direction, but it went unnoticed in the buzz of conversation. She sat up, swallowing a sigh of disappointment.
“How was your journey, my lady?” Mr. Clarke asked.
“Oh, yes, very nice, if a little tiring,” Charlotte answered, hoping Mr. Clarke wouldn’t spend the entire meal attempting to engage her in conversation.
“Yes, it was quite the way from London, was it not?”
She answered in the affirmative, too preoccupied with wondering whether Henry would glance her way to pay Mr. Clarke much heed. A quick attempt to catch his eye by shifting in her seat failed. He seemed absorbed in whatever the dark-haired lady next to him was saying, and he was really too far away to notice her.
Does he even know I’m here yet?
She had no doubt that the dowager duchess had been in charge of this seating plan. The duchess sat near Henry and his friends and seemed delighted by every word the dark-haired beauty said.
“Charlotte, do stop staring down the table, dear. You’re making it quite noticeable,” her mother hissed behind a gloved hand.
Charlotte blushed and straightened herself, trying not to let her distress show on her face. Across from her, Felicity and Genevieve exchanged worried glances, clearly noticing Charlotte’s slight deflation. She only grew quieter as the first two courses were served and eaten—a summer pea soup and a delicious haricot lamb.
“Have you met Lord Melton, Charlotte?” William said as they waited for dessert.
The man—as handsome as Adeline had intimated—sat opposite her brother, next to Genevieve’s mother. Until that point, Lord Melton had seemed more interested in the guests to his other side—who, Charlotte had observed, were clearly close acquaintances with the set around Henry.
Charlotte nodded at him, only to be prodded under the table by Adeline’s toe.
“Talk to him,” her friend mouthed.
“I hear you’ve had a long journey, Lord Melton,” Charlotte said, wincing as she heard herself repeating Mr. Clarke’s drab line of conversation.
Lord Melton smiled, but she saw the boredom in his eyes, and he soon turned his attention back to his friends. Charlotte saw how his gaze kept wandering to the dark-haired woman next to Henry, and she began to wonder if this week had been a good idea at all. How were any of them, wallflowers that they were, going to compete with all these sparkling social butterflies?
Only William was given any attention by Melton and his friends, but their conversation never quite merged with Henry’s end of the table, and Charlotte could only glean snippets of laughter or chatter from far off. She forced herself not to appear too crestfallen.
By the time dessert arrived, she felt thoroughly overshadowed by the more sophisticated girls giggling near Henry. They were bright, confident, and comfortable in these surroundings. She, in contrast, fought a constant swirl of nerves. She had come all this way, and it seemed like Henry hadn’t so much as looked in her direction.
When the meal concluded, the ladies withdrew into the drawing room or their own rooms, leaving the men behind with their port and cigars. Charlotte and her friends reconvened in a side parlor, a space they quickly claimed as their own, while hermother joined some of the other older ladies for a game of bridge in the drawing room.
Charlotte dropped onto a small embroidered couch. “That whole dinner was absolutely awful,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice low so the other women milling around the corridor couldn’t hear. “Henry was so far away, I couldn’t even speak to him once. Every moment I even tried to catch his eye, he was looking elsewhere. I don’t believe he even knew I was there.”
Adeline patted her arm sympathetically. “Take heart. It’s only the first dinner. We have days ahead of us yet. I’m sure that Henry was obligated to entertain the other gentry. It would only be proper. At least Genevieve got to sit near that dashing Lord Melton.”
“For all the notice he took,” Genevieve said glumly, her discouragement echoing Charlotte’s own.
Felicity perched on an ottoman nearby. “Yes, you’re right, Adeline, but I do understand Charlotte’s disappointment. We were hoping to make an impression tonight.”
Genevieve crossed her arms, looking frustrated. “All these other ladies seem so well-connected. I overheard one of them bragging that her cousin is a viscount. They’re already hinting at how Henry might come totheirestate next season. It’s almost predatory.”
Charlotte forced a shaky laugh at the thought of the women swooping on Henry like hawks. “And all I did was fumble through conversation about travel routes with Mr. Clarke.”
Her friends tried to reassure her, proposing strategies. Maybe tomorrow they could plan a walk in the gardens, or, Miranda suggested, contrive a chance for Henry to show Charlotte the library. But for now, she was thoroughly disheartened.
“Maybe we should focus on someone else?” Charlotte suggested, wishing she could sink into the floor and disappear.“There are plenty of bachelors here. Perhaps a match for you Felicity? Or we could work on Lord Melton for Genevieve?”
