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Lady Charlotte Keening tossed back her disordered strawberry blonde curls. The wayward locks had managed to work their way free of their pins during her reckless gallop. She drew her horse up with a sigh. No matter how wildly she rode, she could not quite manage to escape the feeling of discontent that had been afflicting her for months. The persistent melancholy was all the more infuriating for it being entirely uncharacteristic. Lady Charlotte was not the sort of girl to accept irritation patiently.
Trotting her mount back to the stables, she spied her older brother, Randolph, in the yard. As the Earl of Keegain, Randolph stood as head of their household since their father’s death over eight years ago, and the sight of him always warmed Charlotte’s heart.
“You have been enjoying another leisurely ride, I see,” Lord Keegain laughed as he strode over to help Charlotte dismount from the lively Arabian. “The grooms have been congratulating themselves on the marvelous stamina and endurance of our horses, but we all know the credit truly lies with you and your grueling training methods, little sister.”
“Oh, Jamari enjoyed the gallop just as much as I did myself,” Charlotte replied breezily, patting the bay gelding’s foam-flecked neck affectionately. “You shall never convince me that he does not sometimes crave the freedom to run as fast as he is able.”
“He is not the only one, I believe, considering your recent preference for racing about as if there were a pack of hell hounds on your heels.”
“It is a pity then that I never seem to outrun them,” Lady Charlotte said ruefully. “Lately, restlessness nips at my heels no matter how far or fast that I ride.”
“I noticed.” Her brother placed a gentle hand on Charlotte’s shoulder and gazed down at her with concern. “Walk back to the house with me and tell me of your troubles.”
“That is just the thing.” Charlotte lamented as she passed the reins of her mount to the stable master. “Thank you, Griswold,” she said to the elderly man, and then turned back to her brother. “I do not have any troubles, or at least none that I can discern.”
Lady Charlotte took her brother’s arm and matched his long strides with her own fast pace, as they walked back toward the manor. The ancestral family home of Kennett Park, stood gracefully in the light of the evening mist. The grand old manor house was resplendent and seemed to glow in the last rays of sunlight. The sight always struck Charlotte with pride and warmed her heart no matter how many times she beheld the grand edifice.
“No troubles? That sounds rather unbelievable for a girl of eight and ten,” Lord Keegain pointed out humorously. “I have been given to understand that young ladies of your age are positively besieged with trouble.”
“Well,Iam not. The only thing that besieges me is a restless, discontented mood. It is like an itch between my shoulder blades. I cannot quite quell the sensation, and yet I cannot ignore it, either. And there is no reason for it that I have been able to distinguish.”
“It does not, by chance, have to do with the matter involving Lord Marley?” her brother inquired shrewdly.
“No. Of course not,” Lady Charlotte said with a dismissive sniff. “Are we still to go shooting on the morrow?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.
Keegain chuckled. “Mention Marley and the next topic from your lips is shooting. I think you are still sore, little sister.”
“I am not,” she said petulantly. “I do not see how you can think that I am. I refused him, after all. It isn’t as though I am pining away for the man.”
“Good,” Keegain said. “Pining does not suit you, nor does being so prickly.”
“Prickly, am I?” Charlotte demanded, narrowing her eyes in playful sternness.
“Do not be angry with me for saying so, but you have been rather irritable if anyone dares to broach the subject. I just wonder if the whole situation hasn’t affected you more than you know. If I recall correctly, youdidconsider Marley rather seriously, then it turned out that he was, regrettably, not the man you had hoped him to be.”
“What of it?” Charlotte said with a huff, noting her brother’s arched eyebrow. “I am not irritable.” She protested and poked him sharply in the forearm. “I am not.”
Lord Keegain laughed aloud at her antics rubbing his arm where she had jabbed him. “No wonder I have such a difficult time finding suitors for you.”
“You do not,” Charlotte argued.
“Do not worry, little sister,” he said. “I know our mother has worried you with talk of spinsterhood, but there is no need to rush. The right gentleman will come along.”
“Do you truly think so?” Charlotte asked hesitantly, revealing just how well her brother knew her, because although she would never admit it, she was worried.
“I know you have been feeling unsettled, but do not let it upset you. Your image of love and romance has suffered a blow, even if your heart did not. You may not have loved the man, but I know that the loss of a cherished ideal can cut just as deeply.” He put an arm around his sister as they walked. “So, you just let me handle Mother.”
“Thanks Ruddy,” Charlotte said softly.
Charlotte considered her brother’s words and weighed them against the confusion of emotions that had been drifting through her spirit of late. She had been prepared to feel a little regretful when she refused Lord Marley this summer past. He was uncommonly handsome, and he had doted on her, but she didn’t love him. Still, she had not been prepared for him to become engaged to another young lady almost at once. He had clearly been courting the simpering Miss Church at the same time as Charlotte herself. Which begged the question, had he cared for Charlotte at all? Was she loveable at all? She pushed aside the horrid notion, suddenly angry at herself for even caring what he thought of her. The man was a cad and not worth her notice.
“Oh, but how ridiculous, if that is indeed the source of my trouble,” Lady Charlotte said with a casual wave of her hand, as if to dismiss the thought.
“I do not find it ridiculous at all.” Keegain replied. “You ordinarily bounce back from disappointment, but you have been accustomed to enjoy high spirits nearly all of your life, and are perhaps ill-equipped for this particular experience.”
