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Chapter Two
Sir Seth Mulgrave—who would have been quite happy never to have had ‘Sir’ added to his name—stood in the doorway to the ballroom.
During his days as a merchant, he’d never sold silk. What a fool he’d been. The profits a man could make in supplying this room alone with the glistening fabric surely would be enough to pay for several months’ worth of food and rooms.
Of course, he wasn’t about to set up a silk shop now. Being knighted had put an end to all that. With his new title came the expectation that he was wealthy enough to set himself up comfortably for life and never work again. Going back to trade would be a blight on himself—which he could handle—and on his daughters—which he absolutely could not.
It was a blasted shame. He could certainly use a good day of hard work just now. Maybe that would have cleared away the muddled discontentment that seemed to linger heavily about him.
“Sir Mulgrave,” Lord Campbell walked up to Seth, slapping him on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you were coming back to London. We heard you left Town not more than a fortnight ago.”
Seth didn’t exactly dislike Lord Campbell, only the man was too much like the rest of his lot. Loud, prone to long, pointless conversation, and with a strong proclivity toward drunkenness.
“Lord Campbell,” Seth answered with a slight incline of his head, while being sure to keep his tone measured and calm. “I had some business I needed to attend to. But now that is done, I decided to return for the last few weeks of summer.”
“Good show, good show.” Lord Campbell slapped him a few more times on the back. He leaned in toward Seth as though sharing a secret yet spoke as loudly as ever. “Now that you’ve gotten a taste for fine society, it’s hard to go back to the common life, is it not?”
The word ‘nonsense’ leapt to the front of Seth’s tongue, and he only bit down on it just in time. He already stood out as the unwanted participant in any social function he attended; he had no desire to make matters worse by voicing his true opinions.
Besides, Charlotte hated it when he used that word.
Where was she? If not for her, he never would have cared to return to London.
Lord Campbell appeared to still be waiting for Seth’s agreement. While he couldn’t exactly bring himself to concur with the man’s assessment of him, Seth knew he couldn’t tell the man off either, though he sincerely wished to. Instead, he settled on, “Two of my three daughters currently reside in London, you may recall, and I was eager to see them once more.”
It was wholly true. Not exactly the complete truth. But true all the same.
Seth bid the man farewell and turned and strode toward his right. He needed to find Charlotte. Of course, when Seth had first promised to attend this ball, he’d assumed both his daughters and their new husbands would be here as well. As it turned out, neither of his daughters was in attendance tonight. Eliza was in bed with a little fever, and Dinah and her husband had already accepted another invitation before Charlotte’s had arrived.
If he’d known he would be attending alone tonight, he never would have agreed.
But then he turned and spotted Charlotte speaking with a few women. The rich purple of her gown brought out the fine porcelain quality of her skin and the blueness in her eyes. His heart sped up, and, like every time he saw her, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.
Seth tamped down on the warmth growing inside him. If there was anything he’d ever come across in his many decades of life that could truly be called ‘nonsense,’ it was the ridiculous preference he was developing for Charlotte.
He had been a merchant before meeting her, his father had been a merchant, his father before him had been a merchant−nothing but working-class men as far back as history extended.
She, on the other hand, had been the daughter of a duke; her late husband had been a marquess; all of society looked up to her as the most fashionable, the most respectable, the most honorable among them. She’d even had enough clout to petition royalty and convince them that he be knighted.
A man as lowly as he did not develop feelings for one as high as she.
It was inappropriate.
If anyone in the room ever guessed at the truth, he fully expected they would run him from Town with pitchforks and whips. Then again, most of high society didn’t keep pitchforks and whips readily on hand—the very thought itself proved to Seth he was still one of the working class.
Then, they’d run him from Town with what...silk cravats and well-gloved fists? The image that brought to mind nearly lifted his spirits.
Charlotte moved away from the women to whom she’d been speaking to, and despite his better judgment, Seth walked toward her. A small part of his mind pricked against him, warning him that it was not wise to pursue their relationship further.
Charlotte had promised to help him find husbands for his three girls, and she had. At this point, there was no reason to continue their acquaintance.
Except that he was inexplicably drawn to her whenever she entered a room. He thought about her nearly constantly.
“Nonsense,” he muttered to himself, dropping his head and running a hand briefly over his eyes. Their situations in life were far too disparate for anything to come of it.
“Sir Mulgrave.”
Charlotte’s voice caught him unawares, and his head snapped back up. “Lady Blackmore.” Seth had tried and failed more times than he could count tothinkof Charlotte as only ‘Lady Blackmore.’ The best he could manage was to simply refer to her out loud by her proper name. The only name he was at liberty to use.
