"No. Myself." She cleared her throat and shook her head. Charlotte wouldn’t understand that. So she took a deep breath and moved them both so they were cuddled up on the armchair. "I made a silly mistake, that’s all."
Charlotte considered her. "Can the duchess help? Or Lord Blackwood? I’m sure he’d help if he could."
The sound that came out of her was somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she held her sister tight. "I’m sure they both would help me if they could. But this is a problem I have to sort out myself."
Charlotte stiffened, like she might argue. But with a sigh, she sank into Estella’s arms, seeming to understand that for now, Estella didn’t need to talk. She just needed a hug.
After a long while, Charlotte shifted so she could look up at her. "Is it Lord Blackwood?"
Estella's composure cracked. Just a fraction. Just enough for a single, treacherous tear to slip down her cheek before she caught it with the back of her hand.
"He's engaged," she said. "Or very nearly, at least. There's a woman. Lady Clarissa. She seems lovely."
Charlotte's small face hardened into an expression of such concentrated outrage that under any other circumstances, Estella would have laughed.
"He can't be," Charlotte said. "He's supposed to marry you."
"Charlotte—"
"He likes you. I could tell. When he brought me home in his carriage, I asked him why he didn't marry you, and he—" Charlotte stopped. Her brow furrowed.
"He what?"
"He didn't say no." Charlotte was working through the memory with visible effort. "He said 'it isn't that simple.' But he didn't say no, Estella."
Another tear escaped. Then another as Estella realized that Charlotte must have all but asked him to marry her. And then she'd come along and kissed him.
It was humiliating, really.
But right now her heart hurt too much for the humiliation to register. Estella pressed her fingers to her eyes and breathed. "It doesn't matter. He's made his choice."
Charlotte squeezed her tighter.
"I’ll be all right," Estella said after a long moment. The last thing she wanted was to worry her little sister. "I just made a mistake, that’s all. I should have stayed focused on the obvious choice. Like Lord Alderton. I should have remembered why I was doing all this."
There was a silence as Charlotte studied her.
"Estella," she said. "You always do everything for me and Papa." Her small hand found Estella's and squeezed. "When do you ever do something for yourself?"
Estella stilled. "This isn't about?—"
"It is, though." Charlotte pulled further, studying Estella more intently. "You went after something you wanted. For you. Not for me, not for Papa. Just for you. And it didn't work out. But that doesn't mean you were wrong to want it."
Estella stared at her sister and for a moment she hardly recognized her. She frowned as she noticed how the little girl’s cheeks weren’t so round anymore, and how her eyes were filled with sharp intelligence. When had Charlotte become so mature?
She was still a little girl, but it seemed she’d been growing up when Estella hadn’t been looking.
"You're allowed to want things, Estella." Charlotte gave her a little squeeze. "You’re allowed to be happy."
The tears came properly then.
That was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be happy. Not just content or taken care of financially—but loved. And she’d so badly wanted someone she could love in return.
After a while, the tears stopped. Estella wiped her face with the back of her hand and drew a shaky breath.
"When did you get so clever?" she asked.
"I've always been clever." Charlotte pressed her cheek against Estella's arm. "You were just too busy managing everything to notice."
