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“Why, to be honest.” He said earnestly.
“I think that lesson is an undertaking for an expert,” she quipped, with a slight laugh.
“Are you not up to the task? In all honesty, then what do you see when you look at me?”
“I know you are a rake sir, and honesty is the last thing to pass your lips.” Charity made mock to turn away from him, and she caught sight of Miss Macrum who was standing nearby, perhaps coming to join in the conversation. “Oh,” Charity exclaimed in surprise. “Miss Macrum.”
Miss Macrum pursed her lips in a sly grin. She seemed well aware of Charity’s game and Charity felt a moment of embarrassment, as if she had been caught out, for what she was not exactly certain. Charity wondered at the sudden tension. Surely, Wentwell was not one to be hurt by a bit of banter and they were in full view of her mother. There was no scandal here.
Charity brought a smile to her lips. She was never particularly friendly with the lady, but she was also never one to give another the cut. She stepped aside to allow Miss Macrum to join them, but the woman sported a particular scowl. Charity felt as if she should tell her, as her mother had often done, that such frowns cause wrinkles, or perhaps, that her face may stick that way. Charity would never have had the nerve to say so in polite company, still she bit her lip, a quirk of a smile escaping.
“We meet again, Lord Wentwell.” Miss Macrum said as Lord Wentwell gave her a stiff bow. “Miss Macrum,” Lord Wentwell said shortly.
He did not take Miss Macrum’s hand and for just a moment Charity wondered if he was annoyed at Miss Macrum’s intrusion. No, that could not be, she thought as Miss Macrum renewed her acquaintance with Lord Wentwell, and leaned upon his arm. It appeared, according to her familiarity that they were old friends.
Miss Macrum pursed her lips in a sly grin. She seemed well aware of Wentwell’s unsavory reputation, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She sent a condescending look towards Charity. She appeared to be aware of Charity’s game as well as the fact she was more proficient in its playing.
“Look at you, Lord Wentwell, ” Miss Macrum said after introductions were finished. “The pinkest of the pinks wearing a scowl to frighten tomorrow.” Although the words were said with a smile, Charity thought Miss Macrum a bit forward to speak so. This only heightened her assumption that the two of them were familiar with one another.
“Tomorrow is not what I hope to frighten,” he said in a dry voice.
“Why you will frighten the young lady away with such a countenance. There must be a demon at your heels, for such a black look,” she said simpering.
“No doubt,” he agreed. “It is called matrimony.”
“Surely, it is not so,” Macrum said. “I have heard that a titled man must be ever seeking a wife.”
“You are misinformed,” Lord Wentwell said. “It is only a man on the rocks who seeks a wife, and then only a woman flushed of pockets.”
“Could the woman not be flushed of face?” Charity added.
Wentwell turned from Miss Macrum to Charity. “Indeed she could, but flying one’s colors is a maiden’s ploy,” Wentwell said.
“It is no ploy,” Charity said, feeling the heat of a blush on her cheeks. She wished she could stop the coloring, but Wentwell smiled indulgently at her before turning to Macrum.
“Now, flying to the time of day is more the established game,” Wentwell said, ‘For those more world wise. Do you not think so,” Miss Macrum?
Miss Macrum opened her mouth, but did not speak. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”
“Then why are you here?” Wentwell asked reasonably.
“Here?” she said a bit confused, and truthfully, Charity was also not sure what Lord Wentwell meant. He clarified. “Here,” he said again. “Here in Bath; here at this soiree; here speaking, in this conversation.”
“Why it is customary, I believe for unmarried ladies to place themselves in the company of unmarried gentlemen,” she said with a small smile for Charity before her eyes went back to Wentwell.
“Ah yes, the marriage mart, the torture chamber of unbounded gentlemen, to unbounded pleasure of all unmarried ladies.”
Charity thought he was over dramatic, but she too did not find the façade enjoyable. “I do not find it particularly pleasurable,” Charity interjected. It grew tiresome to be paraded before every eligible young gentleman in theTon, although talking to Lord Wentwell was beyond exciting.
“Are you not seeking a husband, Lady Charity?” Miss Macrum asked.
“My mother is completely engaged in the matter,” Charity replied.
“But you are not?” Lord Wentwell asked.
“If you knew my mother, you would know she does not require my help in the endeavor.”
He laughed a short bark of joy. “I do know your mother, or at least my mother knows the lady. So The Lady Shalace is to do the choosing? Have you no say in the matter, Lady Charity?”
