“He seemed to disappear after that,” Charlotte said despondently. She had looked out all afternoon and evening for Henry, but he must have been otherwise occupied.
Helena settled into the chair opposite them. “I did see him briefly in the music room. Not that I had a chance to talk to him about Charlotte as my parents were too busy trying to matchmake.” She shuddered, looking embarrassed. “It was mortifying.”
Adeline patted her hand in sympathy. “Everyone wants his time, of course. I was thinking; I have a walk planned for tomorrow. Perhaps we could arrange it so that he accompanies us and you and he walk together. That will give you some proper time with him, like you had at the lawn bowls.”
Miranda’s eyes lit up. “A walk? Yes, that would be splendid. We must ensure he has plenty of time with Charlotte.”
“And maybe we can work out some way to have you nearer to him at dinner,” Helena suggested, lowering her voice further. “A change in seating, perhaps, so you won’t be so far away and lost in the crowd.”
Charlotte brightened at the thought, but before she could say more, a chair next to her was scraped back, and William sat down.
“What are we all discussing so keenly?” he asked. His presence silenced the murmuring conversation instantly. All eyes turned toward him.
“None of your concern, sir,” Helena said, half in jest, yet with a note of challenge in her voice.
William’s interest was piqued as he leaned forward. “Now I am truly curious. What secret designs are you ladies concocting this fine morning?”
A ripple of laughter died away as the table fell silent. No one knew quite where to look, except for William, who turned questioning eyes on his sister.
Charlotte cleared her throat and managed, “We were simply discussing our plans for tomorrow. A walk, perhaps.”
“Then why the secrecy? Perhaps one of you has caught the attentions of a gallant young gentleman?”
William was joking, but it was too close for comfort.
Charlotte flushed, glancing quickly at her friends for support. “Nothing so daring, brother; I simply wish to have some time to talk to my friends without a throng of guests between us.”
Before William could press further, a brisk voice interrupted them.
“Prepare yourselves. In an hour, the dowager duchess will have all the young ladies perform their musical talents.” The voice belonged to Genevieve’s mother, who had swept up to them with all the brisk authority of a lady in charge of an orchestra. “Hurry, Genevieve—you need time to practice. Which of your friends will be supporting you?”
A murmur went through the group as Genevieve’s face fell. “Must I, Mother?” she whispered, silently pleading with the others to rescue her.
“Yes, you must, Genevieve. Why else do I spend all that money on a music tutor? Perhaps Charlotte will play the pianoforte also?”
Charlotte opened her mouth to find some excuse, but William answered for her. “I’m sure my sister will be delighted to play for the duchess.”
Charlotte turned to him in horror as Mrs. Flynn swept away, looking satisfied.
“William…” she began.
William interjected gently. “Charlotte, you must support your friends. It isn’t like you to shirk your duties.”
Charlotte sighed as she saw Genevieve’s pleading expression and looked around at the expectant faces. “Very well, I suppose I shall play a song on the pianoforte,” she conceded. After all, herfriends were doing so much for her. It would be selfish of her not to participate.
The meal continued in a subdued atmosphere as the ladies finished their breakfast, unable to continue their plans with William in attendance. Instead, conversation ebbed and flowed between light chatter about the weather and murmurs of anticipation about the upcoming musical performance.
Charlotte, still thinking of her plans for tomorrow, cleared her throat softly as she set down her cup. “After we finish here, I’d like to take a wander in the garden, ladies,” she announced. “A bit of fresh air might do us all good, no?” And it would allow them to get away from William and resume their discussion.
Her companions exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.
“Good idea, Charlotte. Let’s go,” said Miranda, taking the lead as usual.
Poor Genevieve took her leave and headed off to practice for the recital.
They rose, gathered their shawls, and stepped out through a side door in the drawing room and into the rose garden. With its winding gravel paths and clusters of blooming flowers, the garden provided a welcome respite from the clamor of the dining hall.
As they strolled, they encountered a group of mothers gathered around a garden table, animatedly discussing the latest social news. Sensing that this was not their hoped-for refuge, Charlotte and her friends discreetly veered off onto a quieter path lined with climbing roses artistically arranged over pretty wooden trellises.
