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“Perhaps, Wentwell has the right idea,” James grumbled in response.
“What say you?” she gasped in horror that James might support his friend’s activities.
“I only meant; oh never mind what I meant. I am far too comfortable with you, cousin, and allow myself to speak to freely. Let me find you some refreshment and take you back to your mother and the women. Here I am monopolizing your time when you should be looking for suitors.”
“I am enjoying myself. Or I was,” she said, but Charity allowed James to lead the conversation from the Earl although she could not dispel the thought of his smoldering green eyes from her mind.
~.~
Chapter Twelve
Reginald followed Neville’s path from the ballroom to the stables where he directed the groom to get his carriage.
“Where are you going?” Reginald asked him.
“Home.”
“You cannot blame every woman for the actions of one,” Reginald protested.
“I’m not,” Neville said. “My brother has not been well, and my mother can’t handle him. I should be home.”
“That is an excuse and you know it.”
“She cannot see past the lies of her friend, Macrum.” He said miserably. Neville did not say Charity’s name, but Reg knew him well enough to see between the lines.
“I do not think they are friends. Patience has never mentioned her.” Reg said.
“They are birds of a feather.”
“Some birds fly alone,” Reg said.
Wentwell looked at him for a long moment. “I can’t do it again, Reg. I can’t. I won’t.” He shook his head.
“I do not think that will work, Wentwell. You are an earl. You will have to get an heir eventually.”
“I should just wait until I am old and grey and then take a young wife to get an heir on her. It worked for my father, and her father too as a matter of fact.”
“Do you want to see your son grow up?” Reg asked.
Wentwell, sucked in a breath. “That was a low blow, Reg.” Wentwell’s father died when he was young and Reg knew it. Wentwell regretted that he knew his father only as a boy and not as a man.
“Come back into the ballroom. It is the opening ball. You will be missed.”
“I do not care. I cannot dance with another woman. I cannot even speak to another woman. I’m just done.”
The coachman brought out his carriage and Wentwell paused before getting into it.
“I don’t know. Maybe when I am old, I won’t care so much that all they see is a title and jingling coin.”
“You know that is not what Lady Charity saw in you.”
“No. She saw a rake that she hoped to reform.” He thanked the coachman and took up his seat.
“Is that so bad? You can reform and she will feel proud of her accomplishment.”
Wentwell threw him a look. “She did not see me at all, Reg. Not. At. All.”
“Patience says she is more than meets the eye. You should give her another chance. She believed her friend. That doesn’t make her a bad person. That makes her a loyal one.”
