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At length, she huffed. “You know I don’t.” All the emotions of the evening, more likely of the past many weeks, started to catch up to her, and a tear pricked at her eye. She blinked it away quickly. “It’s just all so unfair.”
Because Seth was right. Their friendship was seriously hampering her ability to help those who most needed it. And she couldn’t walk away from the asylum. No matter what the other committee members thought of her or of Seth, she couldn’t stop her work there. Helping orphaned girls was as much a part of who she was as being a mother and now a grandmother.
Seth stood and moved over to her. He reached out a hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet.
But he didn’t hold on to her for long. The moment she was standing, he dropped her hand and moved off a couple of paces.
Another wave of sadness swept through Charlotte, but she shoved it aside.
It was time she refocused on their purpose. They were going to prove to the committee she was still a woman to be trusted, and then Seth would return to the country.
And that would be that.
“You tell me,” Seth said, “should I attend tomorrow, or no?”
Charlotte drew herself up and lifted her chin. She’d survived far harder trials than this one. She would sail through to the other side just fine. “You should attend. If you have a strong opinion, voice it, but politely. Don’t be too blunt. Be sure you speak up at least once, but not more than three times.” She heard herself saying the words, but it almost felt like another person had stepped in and was doing the talking for her. They were even words, calm. Spoken by a person in charge and comfortable being so.
Someone whose heart wasn’t aching.
Seth gave her a short incline of his head. “I can do that.”
“Good. Well, then I suppose I shall see you tomorrow, Sir Mulgrave.” It was a bit short, as dismissals went. But she couldn’t manage any more than that just now.
Seth inclined his head again and turned to leave. He’d taken no more than two steps when he paused near the hearth. His hand rested atop the mantel. His fingers tapped nervously against the painted wood.
“You know...” he said, not looking over his shoulder at her, “if the situation were different...”
“But it’s not.”
He couldn’t talk about hating London and his rights to not be in her company and then dangle a phrase holding as much hope as that before her. It was cruel, and she wouldn’t have it.
Seth’s hand fell away, back to his side once more. “No.” His voice was heavy. “No, it’s not.”
He strode purposefully toward the door and slipped out without another word.
Charlotte didn’t move until he was well gone. Then she smothered the fire in the grate and remained, alone, in the darkness.
