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“Who?”
“Miss Drake! She said goodbye a few minutes ago. Why didn’t you stop her? I like her. She seemed sad. She had tea with me. And she read to me. And she found the eyes for our snowman. Can I call her mamma?”
Harry sat up in bed and stared down at his loquacious daughter. Far too many questions after being up half the night berating himself for almost kissing Louisa. Did his daughter just ask if she could call Louisa mamma? He shook his head to clear the fog. One question at a time.
“What do you mean she left?”
“She said her Mamma missed her.”
Highly unlikely.
“She said she’d walk to town. I don’t think she should, Papa. It’s cold out.”
“Charlotte, where are you?” Nurse called out from the corridor.
“She’s in here.”
“Papa!”
Harry moved his daughter out of the way and then scrambled out of bed. The nerve of her leaving without so much as a by your leave. “Go back with Nurse, poppet. I will fetch Miss Drake.”
“You will bring her home?”
Harry sighed. “If she wants to return to London, there is nothing I can do. But I will lend her my carriage at least, so she is comfortable.”
Charlotte’s lower lip stuck out. “I want her to come home. I want her to read to me again.”
“I know, Charlotte.” Knowing he would never be able to leave his daughter if he didn’t give her something, he said, “Perhaps in the spring we can go to town and see the elephant.”
“And see Miss Drake?”
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. His darling, determined daughter would never stop now. “Yes, we will call on Miss Drake.”
She jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Yay! I will tell Nurse.”
“April is four months away, poppet.”
“Oh.” Charlotte ran off to tell Nurse her news. Thankfully forgetting to ask more about whether Louisa would be her new mother. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his daughter, but there was no chance he could marry Louisa or anyone.
Harry dressed quickly before running down the stairs. Seeing Jenkins, he asked, “Why didn’t you provide a carriage for Miss Drake?”
“I did try, Your Grace. She refused.”
“Then you should have informed me.” There were days he wanted to let his butler go, but he had been with the family for years.
Jenkins reached for a missive on the salver. “She left this for you.”
Harry reached for the letter and moved to the salon for privacy.
Your Grace,
You have until May 30th, 1820, the occasion of your thirtieth birthday, to find me a suitable husband or marry me yourself.
Should you refuse to do either, I shall be forced to show the pact we signed to the ton’s biggest gossips.
L.
