AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Neville glanced back at his friends.
“You have not heard a single word, have you?” Reginald asked.
“I have not,” Neville agreed. “So sorry.”
“End of summer latest,” Samuel said to Reginald and I’d give odds on it. Reginald agreed, and then Reginald danced with Miss Macrum, who was doing her best to wheedle a dance from Wentwell. Behind Miss Macrum’s head Reg shot Neville a look which said he was definitely going to pay for Reginald’s rescuing him from the strumpet.
~.~
Throughout the summer, Lady Charity had managed to avoid the busy body Miss Macrum, but today, Miss Macrum had become bold and Charity was annoyed with her constant insinuations. She knew it was not ladylike to confront her, but when she next tried to speak to Lord Wentwell, in Charity’s presence, Charity exchanged a glance with Lord Wentwell, and took the lady’s arm. For a moment, Miss Macrum tried to pull away, but Charity held fast, digging her fingers in so that the lady must follow or look rude.
“Won’t you excuse us, Lord Wentwell,” Charity said with a coy smile “I want to introduce Miss Macrum to two of my dear friends,” she said.
Charity marched right past Patience, Lady Amelia and the Beresford brothers. She walked past The Baron and Baroness Fawkland and The Captain and Mrs. Hartfield. Instead, Charity stopped in front of Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Sullivan. “I want to introduce you to Miss Macrum,” she said to the ladies. “You remember when she was all mixed up with those rumors of Miss Danbury and the stable master.”
“I do,” Mrs. Sullivan said with a gleam in her eye.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Miss Macrum exclaimed.
“Of course not,” Charity said. “But like Miss Danbury, you are marrying for love, are you not?”
“Oh, I’m not marrying,” Miss Macrum said giving Charity a narrowed look, “unless I marry an earl.”
“But I thought you were in love,” Mrs. Thompson said wide eyed. “Did Lady Charity not just say that she was in love?” she inquired of Mrs. Sullivan.
“Miss Macrum just said she was not marrying,” Mrs. Sullivan replied. “Not ever?” Mrs. Sulllivan directed her question back to Miss Macrum. “Surely you are not one of those bluestockings, are you?”
“Terrible things,” Mrs. Thompson added. “But you are not one of those I think. No. Now do tell me, who is this gentleman you love? I think it is so romantic to marry so low, below your station, don’t you, Mrs. Sullivan?”
“So you were the lady who was involved with that stable boy?” Mrs. Sullivan asked.
Miss Macrum choked. “I’m not,” Miss Macrum interrupted, suddenly frantic, but Mrs. Sullivan talked right over her, “Or was it the stable master?”
“I thought it was the groom,” Mrs. Thompson said. “The stable master moved to the colonies with the other strumpet.”
Miss Macrum choked, but Mrs. Thompson patted Miss Macrum’s back gently. “It’s okay, dear,” she said. “We can’t all marry earls.”
“As long as you love him,” Mrs. Sullivan said.
Charity turned when she realized Lord Wentwell was at her elbow. “The waltz is about to begin,” he said. “I believe the dance is mine.”
“Oh, do excuse me,” Lady Charity said sweetly to Miss Macrum. “I’m sure Mrs. Sullivan and Mrs. Thomposn will keep you entertained.”
Miss Macrum looked positively trapped. Charity smiled all the way to the dance floor. She took Lord Wentwell’s hand and they began the dance. “That was masterfully done,” he said as he twirled her around the floor.
She laughed up at him thinking she would not lose this man. “I thought I should remove temptation,” she said.
“There is no temptation,” he told her, “But I am glad you decided to give Miss Macrum a bit of her own medicine.”
As they danced Charity got lost in Lord Wentwell’s green eyes, and soon realized that Lord Wentwell had danced them out onto one of the patios so prevalent in Bath. The cool evening air was bliss after the heat of the day.
~.~
For a moment Charity could not speak. Lord Wentwell had taken her gloved hand in his. His hands were so fine: long fingered, and the nails manicured. He gripped her hand firmly but not too tightly and began rubbing his thumb along the inside of her wrist. The movement sent shivers up her spine. There was something about that grip that spoke to her of masculinity. His was a hand that would hold her forever, and melt away the shadows of her heart. He was looking at her so seriously, and she realized, this was the moment.
This was the time, when he might ask her to marry him, and she would say yes. I shall marry you, and all she asked was that he promised to be honest with her and she should do the same.
“I am all butterflies,” she said.
