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Chapter Sixteen
It had been almost three weeks since she last saw Ethan. Charity’s courses arrived late last evening, and she had succumbed to a painful bout of melancholy and tears. After rousing late in the afternoon, with the help of her maid, Charity dressed in a striped green and gray dress with a green pelisse and large straw bonnet to protect her fair skin from the sun. Her brother was not at home; however, Louisa was reposing reading Emma at Charity’s suggestion in the sunroom. Upon entering the room, her sister-in-law smiled at her, very much at odds with the way she had glared at her several days ago when she learned Lord Ralston had withdrawn his request for a meeting without any explanation.
She spent a few minutes chatting with Louisa, who glowed with pride at finally falling with child. Afterward, Charity summoned the carriage to deliver her to 48 Berkely Square. Almost an hour later, she hurried up to the steps leading to the townhouse. The butler opened the door before she could knock, and she bestowed upon him a bright smile.
“Good afternoon, Dobbs.”
His eyes brightened. “Lady Charity, welcome back. I hope your trip to Dorset was pleasant.”
She hadn’t told anyone of her return, even Theo. The pain she felt at her separation from Ethan had been too raw. Agony was a dull ache in her body and had been since that night when she last saw Ethan. Charity had wanted to keep that pain private. In the days she had stayed home reading and finishing her embroidery pattern, Louisa and Thomas had been indifferent to her broken heart. A part of her had been grateful for their obliviousness.
“Oh, Dorset was very glorious.” Handing over her pelisse and straw hat to the butler, she frowned, noticing how quiet the palatial townhouse seemed.
“Where is everyone, Dobbs?”
“The ladies have gone to Hampstead Heath for picnic and games.”
She was astonished. “Everyone?”
His eyes crinkled with his smile. “Only Miss Frederica is here, my lady. She is in the blue parlor, reading, I believe.”
“Thank you, Dobbs,” Charity said, walking down the hallway that had never echoed with the emptiness. Whenever she graced the halls of 48 Berkeley Square, fierce pride, peace, and joy always swelled through her. She still vividly recalled when Theodosia had asked her to join them in the adventurous undertaking of opening a lady’s club. Charity had been one of the very first members, and she had spent long hours with Theo laughing and plotting how they would convert the large townhouse into a sanctuary for ladies. A smile hovering above her mouth, she went into the blue room to see Federica curled atop the sofa with her legs drawn up and her chin resting on her knees.
“Do tell what you are thinking about,” Charity said. “You look positively devious.”
“I am merely thinking about my guardian,” she murmured, raking her fingers through her short pixie cut. “That man is an enigma. A man clearly endowed with a formidable will.”
“I gather you have been testing that will to no avail,” Charity said with a light laugh, going over to sit beside her. She toed off her shoes with a gusty sigh and unpinned her hair.
“He had the nerve to accept an offer for my hand.”
“That is what guardians do,” Charity said drily, feeling much sympathy for Frederica. At twenty, she was not considered old enough to make her own life choices.
“This morning, I told him if he is insisting on marrying me off, I would only oblige if he is the groom.”
Charity choked on her laugh. “Upon my word, he must have been appalled.”
Deviltry glinted in Frederica’s blue eyes. “He was astonished,” she said softly, “and there wassomething else in his normally unflappable countenance, but it went away too quickly for me to understand.”
And it was at that moment Charity spied the breathtaking hunger in her friend’s eyes. Good heavens. Her guardian for the last four months was Percy Deveraux, Marquess of Wolverton. The man had a dangerously rakish reputation, and every mother knew he had vowed to never marry despite being so eligible.
“I cannot help feeling I am a burden, and he wants to get rid of me.”
“Nonsense,” Charity said. “He is a man in his prime and perhaps accustomed to a life without any responsibilities. Then you were thrust upon him quite unexpectedly. Perhaps he simply thinks the best solution is to marry you off, but surely you can convince him otherwise.”
Frederica groaned and leaned back against the cushions, tipping her head to the ceiling. “I will think on it.” She shifted a bit, arching a brow. “Enough nattering about me; why are your eyes so sad.”
Federica caught her off guard. “I was not aware I wore emotions in such an evident manner.”
“Do not take it to heart. You are normally very lively. I see that you are smiling, but it does not reach your eyes.”
Her friend got up from the sofa and padded over to the small table that held a brandy decanter.
“Should we indulge and chat, or would you prefer I ring for tea?”
A wistful ache for Theodosia went through Charity. Though her dear friend was only a year older than her, she always provided comfort whenever any of her club sisters needed it.
“Do you know how to make the tea the way Theo does?”
