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“Don’t look now,” Miss Macrum cautioned tucking a gloved hand into her own and patting it as the pair moved along the floor.
“It is alright, my dear. I quite understand.” Miss Macrum crooned, leaning close as if she and Lady Charity shared a secret.
The truth was, Charity never quite got on with Miss Macrum. She was exactly the sort of female that her mother would have wished Charity be befriend: full of artifice and cunning. Miss Macrum would have been called plain, if she were not so skilled in the presentation of self so as to make herself wholly appealing. Charity listened while Miss Macrum made conversation, telling her how she was on good terms with the Collington family; how she and her good friend Miss Danbury would often partner with Lord Wentwell and his younger brother, Edmund at events. Charity’s heart sank. Lord Wentwell did have a brother. She remembered now. “Still, he is the most challenging fellow in the room,” Macrum continued. “It will take far more than a simple flirtation to earn a proposal from The Rake of Wentwell. Never have I met a man so against the institution.”
Of course, Miss Macrum was right. Charity was quite out of her depth considering the Earl. She knew that, but Miss Macrum annoyed her, even though she was only repeating much of what Charity had thought of herself. She had known Lord Wentwell was not a suitable marriage partner. Charity felt her cheeks grow red with embarrassment. Still, she had encouraged the flirtation. Never had she thought that Miss Macrum would think Charity and herself of similar ilk. The thought made Charity’s throat tight, and yet, what other young miss might she befriend for the evening.
“I…” Charity searched for an excuse to not walk with Miss Macrum. The woman made her uncomfortable, but no reason was forthcoming.
“Is that not what you are doing?” Miss Macrum asked. Had Charity been so forward with another lady, in the company of her mother she would have been scolded for her cheek. Lady Shalace would have taken offence, but Charity although she was loath to admit it could not deny that Miss Macrum had read the situation with expert eyes. “Were you not thinking to gain favor with the Earl here amongst lesser company before the true test of the opening ball?
“I really just meant to be sociable.” It was perhaps the most genuine statement Charity had uttered in quite a while, but at the mention of marriage to the Earl of Wentwell, she could not contain a flutter of excitement. Still, she would not trap a man.
Miss Macrum laughed, a soft titter that was meant to draw the eyes of gentlemen, and it did. Charity smiled at the room careful to give no gentleman the feeling that he might be favored over the others.
Charity did her best to extricate herself from Miss Macrum, but the woman had now laid a hand on her arm, and leaned in to speak as if they were fast friends. Charity craned her neck searching for some escape which would allow them to cease this prowling though Miss Macrum had navigated them well outside of view of much of the room. Her eyes lit upon Colonel Ranier who had returned to their previous position with her drink in hand and was now searching for her.
“Truly I have no designs upon Lord Wentwell,” Charity said. “Now if you will excuse me, I see Colonel Ranier. He went in search of a refreshment for me, and I must be returning.”
“Nonsense,” Miss Macrum laughed again. “One of your status is not sociable with an earl without aim, and not with a colonel unless absolutely necessary. There is no future there. He is far too safe for you, Lady Charity. Truthfully, I seek a finer catch myself and I am not a lady.”
“I do not think there is such a difference between ladies and misses,” Charity said. In fact, some of her best friends were misses before their marriages…their happy marriages, she thought. Ones they achieved without subterfuge.
“In any case,” Charity said added loftily in an effort to forestall any more of Miss Macrum’s prowling. “I would rather avoid rumor.”
Miss Macrum gave Charity a long, telling look. Her eyes flickered over to Lady Shalace, who was watching her daughter with avid interest amid the gossipmongers, Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Sullivan.
“I do not think that safe shall be allowed,” Miss Macrum laughed. “Besides, there is no fun in a safe fellow.”
Charity had had enough of this conversation. Miss Macrum was far too worldly for Charity’s taste. In fact, Charity wanted nothing more than to remove herself from the woman. She normally loved social events, but without her real friends, Charity wished she could return home to finish the book she had been reading to her father. If there was anything that was safe, that was it, but a single glance at her mother reminded her that she, unlike her friends, was still unmarried.
Her mother lifted her chin and inhaled dramatically, which Charity knew meant that she was to put her shoulders back a bit more to accentuate her feminine figure. Her stays did not actually allow her much leeway in the matter. Mother already had her way, but Charity artfully used her fan to obscure the gentlemen’s view as she took a breath.
“Come.” Miss Macrum giggled in Charity’s ear as she leaned close and caught her sleeve. “If Wentwell is not to your liking, let us join Mr. Fulton. He is a special friend of mine and quite a lot of fun.”
At that moment, Colonel Ranier made his appearance and Charity had never been more pleased to have a gentleman fetch her a drink. The poor man must have been searching for ages for her. She offered him an honest smile of gratitude and thanked him for his duty. Miss Macrum raised one shoulder in defeat as if Charity had somehow disappointed her. She then wandered off towards the entertainment for the evening, presumably to find Wentwell, or some other man she meant to net for her titled husband.
Charity remained by the Colonel’s side for as long as was appropriate before returning to her mother. The Colonel had been nice enough, but she was forced to admit, Miss Macrum had been right in her proclamation that he would not hold Charity’s interest for long. Charity had done her best to test her appeal, but she was halfhearted in her attempt. Even the Colonel could tell that she was unimpressed, and they parted on cordial terms. Neither would search the other out in the future, but neither had they caused offense.
Charity made her way back to her mother, wondering why she should be envious of Miss Macrum? She did not want to marry Lord Wentwell anyway. He is a rake and a cad, she reminded herself. A rake is a charming lecher, nothing more. Marrying a rake or a lecher is inviting a lifetime of misery no matter what Mother said. In that regard she had to agree with Julia. After talking with Miss Macrum, and seeing how callously Wentwell treated the lady, Charity was reaffirmed in her duty to avoid Wentwell, no matter how beautiful he might be. He is not genuine, she reminded herself. He is in fact, the gentlemanly version of Miss Macrum herself. Indeed they deserve one another. Charity was not that sort of person, nor would she ever wish to be, conniving and deceitful. And yet, is that not what she had done to poor Colonel Ranier? She felt a hint of unease. She did not want to be fake. She did not want to be the person theTon, or perhaps her mother, was making of her. Or perhaps what she was making herself. That thought was even worse.
Charity’s mother sighed as she relayed her daughter’s missteps. She knew it was wrong of her to admit defeat so easily. “Proper words and actions would have kept the gentleman entertained,” her mother insisted.
“But Mother,” Charity argued. “I would have been unable to find appeal in the gentleman. What was the point of dangling?”
“If Colonel Ranier was not to your liking, Charity, what of the other young gentleman to whom you were speaking? You seemed to be doing quite well with him until Miss Macrum interrupted.”
“Mother, that is Lord Wentwell,” Charity said, with an air of disinterest.
“Wentwell?” her mother asked. “The young earl?” She sniffed with disapproval.
“Yes, an earl,” Charity confirmed confused. Normally her mother was all in for a title. Charity was quite upset that she had misread her mother’s wishes. Lord Wentwell seemed to be in possession of all of the qualities her mother desired in a suitor for her daughter: wealth, title and all. Yet Lady Shalace had turned up her nose. Her mother was simply never satisfied, Charity thought angrily.
“Mother, whatever is the matter with Lord Wentwell? He is young, wealthy and an earl in his own right.” Charity broke off as she realized she was defending the man. She told herself she wanted nothing more to do with him. “I thought you would be pleased,” she finished lamely.
“Well, his mother leaves much to be desired,” Lady Shalace replied. “Still, you are quite right, Charity. He is the most eligible bachelor in attendance tonight, though if rumor is to be believed he is also a rake.” Lady Shalace paused thoughtful. “How is it that you know him, Charity?” her mother asked, presenting all appearances of shock and horror though with a slight upturn in the corner of her mouth as if she were secretly impressed by her daughter’s flirtation.
“It was Lady Beresford who introduced us,” Charity admitted. “Lord Wentwell is close friends with her brother, Lord Barton. I only danced once with the gentleman during the summer last,” she clarified. “That is all.”
