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“My Lord,” he said, happy to see him.
“It’s good to see you,” Lord Diggar said, patting him on the back. It was clear that the Earl was well into his cups. His face was just as red as his crimson velvet waistcoat.
“And, you as well, My Lord,” he agreed.
“I was wondering if I might stop by your office,” the Earl said. “Sometime this week.” He was frowning, keeping his voice low. “I have some affairs which need to be put in order.”
“Of course, My Lord,” Charles said, thinking back to his date book. “I believe I have an opening on Monday morning, at ten.”
“Make it Thursday,” he replied, raising his eyebrow, as though daring Charles to refuse him.
“Certainly, My Lord.” Charles’s eyes were following Lady Arabella, as she made her way through the crowd. She was like a star, emanating light.
“She’s quite a strange lady, is she not?” Lord Diggar asked, his own eyes following her.
“Not at all, My Lord,” Charles replied.
“Hmm,” Lord Diggar grumbled. “Not you too, then?”
“No, My Lord,” he replied. It would be best to keep it all a secret.
“I can see it in your eyes,” Lord Diggar said, smiling. “You’re quite taken with her.”
Charles smiled at him. He supposed if Lord Diggar and Lord Drysdale could see that they were in love, then the Duke of Tiverwell was likely expecting his visit tomorrow. He may have been expecting it since the summer.
“Good luck convincing the Duke of Tiverwell to agree to that,” the Earl muttered.
“And why shouldn’t a lady marry a man like me?” Charles asked, his emotions sinking as heavily as a lead balloon. The Earl laughed, a loud bark.
“No offense, dear man. I’ve known the Duke for most of my life,” the Earl replied. “He’s likely already got another Duke in mind for Lady Arabella. If I know anything, he’s the type of gentleman who has found a Duke who has something to give him. But I do wish you all the best, Mr. Conolly,” the Earl said, nodding. “I really, truly do.” His eyes seemed watery. He reached out, clapping him on the back. “You’ll end up on your feet.”
Charles watched as the Earl of Diggar made his way back toward the refreshment table, where he partook of another glass of brandy. Charles watched as Lord Diggar pulled out his gold pocket watch, looking at the time, then downing the entirety of the glass. He swayed, nearly dropping the watch in a nearby bowl of punch.
* * *
Arabella was all aflutter the next day. From the moment she opened her eyes, she was filled with a combination of nerves and excitement. She wondered what time Charles would show up, to speak with her father. She had Annette dress her in a pale pink muslin, which brought out the roses in her cheeks. She had her arrange her hair in perfect curls, framing her face, pulled back in a low chignon.
Then, she waited, sitting in the parlor with her parents. Her mother was still rehashing the night before. Overall, the ball had been a success. Arabella had danced the night away, keeping an eye on Charles. She’d caught him watching her, the weight of their shared secret stretching between them.
“How many times did you dance with Lord Carrington?” her mother asked.
“Twice,” she replied, dutifully. Any moment now, Charles would arrive, and then she would never have to discuss Lord Carrington again.
She would finally be able to speak freely of her love for Charles, and then they could make plans for the wedding.
The butler peered inside. “Your Grace,” he announced. “Mr. Conolly requests an audience with you.”
“Very well, tell him that I will see him in my study.” Her father looked stern, and he went a bit pale. Arabella looked down at her hands. She could barely contain her joy.
The door closed after her father. Arabella looked up at her mother, smiling brightly.
“What are you smiling about?” her mother asked, curiously.
“Mr. Conolly has come to ask Pappa if he can marry me,” she replied, excited to finally share her secret.
Her mother went pale. “Mr. Conolly? The—thebarrister?” She set her tea cup and saucer down on the coffee table.
“Yes,” she said. “We’ve fallen in love, Mamma.”
