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Chapter Two
The concert that evening was attended was attended by no more than twenty couples. Still, it was overcrowded for Charity’s taste because most of the guests were not her friends. Her mother was overjoyed with the new selection of acquaintances, for there were several gentlemen to whom her daughter had yet to be introduced.
Under what rock her mother found the rogues, Charity was not certain, but none were husband material. Even her mother had to agree to that, but she did insist that Charity practice her wiles since she had been out for three seasons and was well on her way to begin a spinster, if she could not manage a bit more effort. When her mother was finished cataloging what was wrong with her, Charity hardly felt in a joyous mood to attend the gathering.
Oh how she longed for the gay parties with Lavinia and Julia, but both were now married and Charity was left to her own devices and her mother’s machinations. “I wish the Poppy sisters were invited,” she told her mother and Lady Shalace replied that Charity should cultivate more friendships among the daughters of the peerage.
“Yes Mother,” she intoned. She missed her friends to distraction, but she did her best to be cordial with the gentlemen to whom she was introduced.
Charity attempted to appear intrigued and even forced a wide smile whenever her mother’s fingers would pinch the back of her arm. The sharp gesture was the matriarch’s covert way of guiding her daughter’s behavior and correcting her mistakes.
Charity was glad for the length of her gloves which would cover the red mark that must be developing after a half dozen moments of such instruction.
If only she were chaperoned by Julia’s elder sister Jane. The she would not have to fake a smile. She would be truly gay.
She longed for the days when Julia and Lavinia were at her side. Even Amelia’s company would be preferable. They had such fun. Charity had always surrounded herself with a bevy of friends. Now there were none and she simply felt lost without them. The hollow feeling inside, she realized was loneliness, even amidst the small gathering at the soiree.
Her mother taunted her with the possibility that she may remain a spinster and truthfully, the thought brought a spark of fear to her breast.
The other ladies were married and although Lavinia was in Bath, she was not at this soiree. Julia would not arrive in Bath for several days, and even if she did, she was never one to enjoy outings. She had her own husband and household to attend to now. They had little time for their unencumbered friend and everything had changed. This year was nothing like the pleasant summers past when the young women had been nigh on inseparable and mostly left to their own devices. Now that they were busy with their own homes; she rarely saw them. She so missed her married friends. Charity sighed with sudden debilitating melancholy.
“Darling,” her mother offered an arm and a false smile though her tone suggested annoyance. Charity allowed herself a shamed grimace as the most recent gentleman turned away to find a more willing partner. “You really must do better. Once the crowds descend upon Bath I shall not be ever present to guide you. How can I trust that you will not go brushing aside every gentleman who offers you a cool punch?”
“I have a glass,” Charity replied cheekily, raising her drink to prove that she was not in need of another.
Lady Shalace’s eyelids flickered as she collected her temper. “Then you might have set it aside or watered the ferns,” she groaned. “Anything but deny the offer.”
“That seems a waste,” Charity mumbled too low for her mother to hear. The truth was that Charity had wanted neither the libation nor the gentleman who offered it. Sir Charles Marbury was a loathsome creature who lost more to the tables than he had to spend.
Charity’s dear friend, Mr. James Poppy had warned her of the scoundrel two summers past and she was certain the man saw little more in her than the weight of her coin.
Mother might have been aware of that if she spent more time learning of a single gentleman rather than tossing her daughter at them all. Charity felt a frown forming between her brows as she her mother gave her a slight push towards the growing crowd.
“Wrinkles,” her mother whispered, and Charity smoothed the frown from her face. “Charity,” her mother informed her seriously. “There may be none here that have caught your interest, but you might hone your charm for the evening.” Lady Shalace then informed her daughter that she would be watching from across the room. Charity expected a full report on her failures when they reconvened in the carriage later that evening.
With another sigh, Charity tipped her drink into the nearby potted plant and turned to join the fray with as much false pleasantry as she could muster.
She scanned the crowd obediently, though there were few of worth in attendance. That is until Charity’s gaze was drawn by a young gentleman who was surrounded by doting women. Although his back was to her at the moment, he seemed to be quite the center of attention, flanked by Miss Macrum and another woman she did not know.
Lady Charity’s eyes narrowed as she took in the gentleman. He looked familiar, though she could not immediately place him, that is until he turned and she caught sight of his startling green eyes. Then she could not mistake him: Neville Collington, The Earl of Wentwell.
They had danced this summer past and his emerald gaze had burned over her skin. Now, those same eyes brushed over her like a physical touch, and she looked quickly away lest he see she was watching him.
She peered at him from behind her fan. He was dressed in the finest silk coat which had been trimmed to perfection. Charity could almost see the muscles beneath the silk. She felt her heart beat increase with just the appearance of the man. Every inch of his stature exuded charm and nonchalance. Lord Wentwell was too beautiful to be real. His smile was confident as he stood entirely at ease amongst the party guests.
He gave all appearance of being engaged in the conversation with the lady he was with, yet his mind was elsewhere, other than on the lady before him, Charity was sure. He looked every inch the rake the Ton accused him of being. She was not usually so cautious, but she remembered Julia’s conundrum with rakes last year. In truth Lady Charity only danced with Lord Wentwell, to distract from her friend, Julia’s troubles.
The fact that he was embroiled in rumor for most of last summer, made the dance even more sensational. Charity recalled him clearly: his broad shoulders and his hand warm upon her glove as they danced. His firm yet confident attitude bordered on arrogance as he led her around the dance floor. She and the gentleman had only danced once, but that once had made an impression. She had found herself quite out of her depth with his banter. She was breathless in his arms, afraid she would disgrace herself and could barely answer his quips. She was no better than a tongue-tied ninny held captured by his deep green gaze.
When the dance ended, Lord Wentwell had been spirited away by some other female before Charity could regain her poise, and ever since she had avoided his company for fear that she might next be caught in a rumor, or perhaps it was because he made her feel naïve and childish.
Charity dropped her shoulders and prepared to slip away when a slight cough reminded her that her mother’s watchful eye would not waver. She pasted a smile on her face, and without ado, turned in the opposite direction of Lord Wentwell to find a safer partner for her conversation.
That partner appeared in the form of Colonel Ranier, a portly gentleman of uncertain age who made her feel comfortable. She needed no guile to entertain him. Colonel Ranier, was a decorated war hero and a genuinely nice man, if a bit boring. Charity greeted the man warmly and was welcomed into the conversation.
The opening ball was the topic of choice. Charity found that she was a willing participant, for she too had looked forward to the event, if only to see who might be summering in Bath this year. Surely there would be some younger girls she could befriend. She would enjoy helping them on their way to matrimony. She beamed at the sudden thought. The summer was not wholly a loss. She might still enjoy her holiday if she could find someone with which to share it.
