Miranda shook her head firmly. “We’re here for you. Our priority is clear.”
Felicity agreed. “Absolutely. We’ll do better tomorrow. Everyone only just arrived tonight. We can reevaluate, set up opportunities. Henry’s not going anywhere.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but be touched and amused by her friends’ stubborn insistence, although her spirits remained low. Eventually, the others drifted off to their own rooms, and she decided to return to her suite and read. Perhaps some solitude would soothe her disappointment and leave her in a better frame of mind for the next morning.
She left the parlor, thinking that she was heading in the direction of the staircase, but soon found herself lost in the unfamiliar corridors. After rounding a corner, she almost bumped into a sandy-haired gentleman who seemed equally lost. He looked to be in his thirties and smelled of port and cigar smoke.
He bowed. “Excuse me. This house is larger than I realized.”
“I know exactly what you mean, sir. I’m still figuring out which wing is which.” Charlotte managed a polite laugh as she made to step aside for him, but he made no attempt to keep walking. If she was seen standing alone in the corridor with an unknown man, it could cause quite the scandal. She was debating just walking around him, however rude it seemed, when he spoke again, peering at her.
“Ah, you’re Lady Charlotte Fitzgerald, aren’t you? I heard your name at dinner.”
She inclined her head, suddenly intrigued. Heard her name from whom? Could it be Henry? She wasn’t certain whether this man had been one of the crowd around him. “Yes…. I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
He gave another small bow. “Sir Matthew Argyle. A friend of Lord Wentworth’s. I was surprised to see you here, I must admit.”
Charlotte raised a brow, all thoughts of escaping the man forgotten. “Surprised? Why is that, sir?”
“Well….” He hesitated, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Forgive me, my lady. It is most rude of me to comment on personal matters.”
“Please do, sir,” Charlotte said quickly. “You have piqued my curiosity.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, it is only that I’d heard you were as good as betrothed to Sir Roger. The rumor around town is that you’re soon to be married.”
She gaped at him, her face suddenly hot, all propriety forgotten. “Soon to be married? Sir Roger has been telling people that? In those words? That is an outright lie!”
Sir Matthew’s eyes widened. He coughed, flushing deeply. “That’s my understanding, my lady. He’s mentioned it to some acquaintances and made it sound like it was nearly settled. But perhaps I misunderstood. Forgive me, I meant no offense.”
Anger flared in Charlotte’s stomach, mingling with the humiliation that curled there. “It is forgiven,” she reassured him. “But please put your acquaintances right. Sir Roger and I are most certainly not betrothed. Nor will we ever be.”
Sir Matthew looked relieved. “Then I see I was misinformed. I do apologize for bringing it up. I’ve had a little too much port.”
She smiled tightly. “No need to apologize, sir. It’s much better that I am aware of these rumors.”
He offered another small bow. “I’ll let you find your way. Good evening, Lady Charlotte.”
She murmured a polite farewell, her thoughts spinning.
Sir Roger’s been boasting? Telling people I’m guaranteed to be his wife?
After what had happened at the ball, the very idea repulsed her.
How dare he?
And was Henry aware of these rumors? Was William?
CHAPTER 13
Henry turnedthe page of the report he was reading in preparation for his return to the House of Lords after the house party with deliberate slowness, listening for the faintest hint of footsteps outside the library door. He had retreated to this room as soon as breakfast ended, hoping for a quiet interval before his mother or an enthusiastic guest found him.
Alas, the sound of footfalls, quick and confident, drew nearer. Henry knew that step all too well. He looked around in mild desperation for a place to tuck himself out of sight, but it was too late. The door opened, and his mother sailed in, her skirts brushing the threshold.
“There you are,” she said, tone triumphant but her eyes steely. “I have been searching for you everywhere. You can’t hide in here all day. Your guests are expecting to see their host.”
Henry set aside the report with a resigned sigh. “I was merely attending to my parliamentary duties, Mother. I have been entertaining guests all morning.”
Indeed, Henry was beginning to get a headache from all the chatter. It felt as though everywhere he turned, there were people hanging on his arm, and he had barely seen his actualfriends, including William, the nearest person he had to a confidante.
