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Josephine nodded.
“Then it has happened, and I am ruined.” Charlotte didn’t know whether to smile or cry. “And from whom did you hear it? And what did you hear?”
The maid finished fixing her coiffure and stepped away for her perfume. “A rumor. A little thing, really, my lady. That you and Mr. Huxley were caught in… a comprising dance.” She spritzed an essence of rose and oud, and it burned Charlotte’s nose as she took a whiff. “The girls downstairs, Magdalene, most of all, they are harbingers of gossip.”
“Well, if they know, all of London shall be privy to my scandal by now.” She caught Josie’s eye in the glass. “This is why you have failed to bring up the society pages, I take it. Oh, Josephine, you needn’t shield me from gossip.”
Charlotte had hardly left her room since all had transpired—her father’s silence in the carriage ride home had been punishment enough. She dared look him in the eye over supper, her brother even less, but the time was exile was long passed, it seemed.
“Shall I tell Lilly to hasten up with a tray for you this morning, my lady?”
“No,” Charlotte sighed, taking a final look at the yellow tapestry of her chambers. “I shall eat with the rest, come what may.”
As a small kindness, the world has seen fit to call Matthew out of the house that morning on business, or some equally boring venture. Still, the breakfast solar seemed a prison cell, despite the bright, wintry sun that streamed through the windows.
She paused at the entrance to the room, peering around the corner like a girl of eight, not three-and-twenty. Her father was sat furthest away around the circular table, looking out of the window, not grimacing but not smiling either. Eleanor was tucked a little further in, poring over some correspondence. Her darling little sister, dressed in white chiffon—what must she have been thinking of reckless, stained Charlotte?
A footman passed her with a tray of brioche and marmalades, and she let out a little gasp, alerting her family to her presence. Clearing her throat, she presented herself to her father, averting her eyes at all costs from her sister.
“May I break my fast with you?” she asked tentatively.
Her father looked around, and God above, hesmiledat her—a shy, small thing that barely curled the corners of his mouth—but it was there, and it was for her. He didn’t say a thing, merely nodded, and she drew out a seat for herself between the both of them.
“I missed you,” she heard from beside her, from Eleanor, who was red in the face, close to tears. Her sister shook her head, her dark ringlets bobbing around her face. “Matthew is—“
“I imagine Matthew has been rather difficult to tolerate on your own,” Charlotte whispered for her. “That is why God saw fit to bring into the worldtwoFitzroy daughtersto half the burden of being his sister.”
Eleanor dipped her head and beamed.
Her father motioned for a plate to be brought forward for her, and she was equipped to eat before she even had a chance to speak further. She placed a small, golden croissant on her plate, along with a clementine tartelette and some butter, before reaching over for the toast. Slightly out of reach it was, so her father leaned forward to nudge it closer.
“How have you been, Father?” she asked him to break the silence.
He did not disappoint. “Busy,” he answered, still looking away. “The men and I are going riding this afternoon as the weather is fair.” Charlotte didn’t like the idea of her father with a gun. “You’re welcome to ride along with Eleanor.”
“You’re going?” she breathed through a laugh. “You loathe riding.”
“Yes, well… I think it would be good for Papa to have some company.”
Charlotte simpered.Pollock, you mean,she thought to say, but the mention of romance could easily spark unwanted conversation.
Buttering her bread, she was surprised to see a small envelope weave its way between her cup of tea and glass of mint water. It had been Eleanor’s doing. Her sister widened her eyes, instructing her to pocket it, but Charlotte knew at once who it would be from and declined. She slid it back.
“Is brother Matthew attending the ride?” she queried to change the subject, to swallow down her nerves at seeing that note, too.
The Duke nodded. “He’s in town with Mr. Pollock for the morning and chaperoning Eleanor after that.”
“And jumping for joy while he’s at it, no doubt.”
Her father opened his mouth to reply, but the butler appeared beneath the archway to the solar before he could. He licked his lips and announced, “His Grace the Duke of Gamston is at the doors, Your Grace. Shall I show him in?”
Charlotte almost spit out her tea.
Having hardly recovered, she pushed her plate away as the Duke manifested before them. He was dressed in grey to match his hair and was, to Charlotte’s complete surprise, without his cane.
Greetings between the men exchanged, he leaned against the archway. “Oh, but I hate to interrupt a man and his family at breakfast!” He smiled wide, grooves appearing beneath his eyes. “Thought what a sight it is, Lady Eleanor, Lady Charlotte.”
Charlotte forced a smile. “Croissant?”
