“I can tell you’re a bibliophile from the reverent way you handle the pages,” Lady Serena said.
“I do love books,” Charlotte replied, “but I’m being careful mostly because I don’t want to damage one of your father’s valuable books. It’s a treat to see it though.”
“I’d be happy to show you the others sometime, if you’d like. They’ll be plenty of opportunities. William is a frequent visitor, and now you will be, too.”
This comment, innocent though it was, produced a sharp little ache in Charlotte. Ending the betrothal would impact more than just her relationship with William. It would affect all the friendships she’d made with people she’d met through him. She forced a smile. “I’d like that.” She glanced around the room, at the shelves filled with books, which beckoned so enticingly. “Spending an afternoon in here would be a bit like going on a treasure hunt.”
Serena laughed. “Oh, I do like you,” she said, linking her arm with Charlotte’s. “We bluestockings must stick together since we’re largely unappreciated by the rest of society.”
On that note, they made their way back to the other guests.
No one seemed to take much notice of their return to the drawing room. Card tables had been set up in their absence. There were now several games of whist and piquet in progress. Phillip, who was seated at one of the whist tables, glanced up as Charlotte walked past. He looked at her a moment, his gaze one of mild inquiry, although he didn’t say anything to her.
She couldn’t tell if he suspected what she’d been up to, although if he did, he could hardly ask her about it in the middle of the drawing room. Besides, Phillip wasn’t the sort to meddle in her business, believing that Charlotte was a grown woman capable of managing her own life. It was one of the traits Charlotte most appreciated in him. But even her easygoing brother might draw the line at her wantonly kissing a man in a garden.
Mr. Townshend approached, and after one long look at the earl, during which some unspoken message seemed to be communicated between them, he said, “Would you care to form a table, Norwood? Lady Serena and I against you and your lovely fiancée.”
“I’m agreeable, but I’ll leave the decision to the ladies.”
“I’m in,” Serena said. “Are you up for a few rounds of whist, Charlotte?”
“Certainly.”
“Shall we play for money?” Serena asked brightly. “Make it a bit more interesting?”
“No,” William said dryly. “I prefer a friendly game. You’re too much of a cutthroat when you play for stakes.”
They chose an empty table in the corner of the room. It was decided that Lady Serena would deal first. The first game ended quickly. Lady Serena and Mr. Townshend won handily by taking all the tricks for a grand slam.
“I should have warned you from the outset what we were in for,” Lord Norwood drawled from across the table as Charlotte, who was the next dealer, shuffled the deck. “Card sharps, the pair of them.”
“So I see,” she replied, dealing the cards. She was no slacker when it came to whist, but Serena and Mr. Townshend were in a different league.
Mr. Townshend gathered up his cards and arranged them to his satisfaction in his hand. He led, playing the ace of hearts. “Lady Serena and I mix about as well as oil and water in most matters, but when it comes to whist”—he flicked a veiled glance at Lady Serena—“we make a formidable pairing.”
Lord Norwood then played the four of hearts, Lady Serena the two, and Charlotte the seven.
“That’s true,” Lady Serena said with a touch of impatience, “but I hope you’re not going to turn chatty during the play. You know I hate that.”
“Breaks her concentration,” Mr. Townshend said sotto voce. Having won the last trick, he led again. This time with the king of hearts. “So, Miss Hurst, don’t think my silence means I’m unsociable. It just means I must keep my favorite whist partner happy.”
Lady Serena rolled her eyes. “So much for being your favorite partner. You chose Kingston as your partner the last time we played.”
“That was only because you wanted to play for stakes that were far too rich for my blood.” He turned to Charlotte and added, “My blood is not as blue as the rest of yours, and my money is hard won through my own labor.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t emigrated to America yet with their more egalitarian society,” Lady Serena snapped, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink and her gray eyes sparkling ominously in that gentleman’s direction.
“But then I would miss all the fun of being a thorn in your side,” he replied, his voice calm, but with a steely edge to it.
William won the trick, and Lady Serena’s mouth pinched into a tight line. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Will you quit talking? Look what I did. Led off with a king when I should have known better.”
“You know better than to do a great many of the things you do,” Mr. Townshend replied. “But that never stops you.”
Lady Serena did not answer him this time, just gave him a withering look, and they played in silence until Charlotte and Lord Norwood lost the game and the rubber.
“Shall we play another rubber?” Lady Serena asked gaily, her good humor apparently restored by the victory. “Give Norwood and Miss Hurst a chance to redeem themselves?”
“Regretfully, I think I must call it a night,” Mr. Townshend said. He rose, bowed to the ladies, and left.
“I swear, he is the most aggravating, annoying, impossible man in London,” Lady Serena muttered, watching his retreating back. “Makes me wish he weren’t my best whist partner.”
To Charlotte, this seemed a bit excessive, since Mr. Townshend had struck her as very amiable, but it was clear there was some history between him and Lady Serena. She couldn’t tell if they actually disliked each other, or merely acted like they did.
“You’re too hard on him, Serena,” Lord Norwood said.
“Pfft” was her answer. She gathered the cards and absently shuffled them a moment, then said, “Charlotte, if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, why don’t you come over here at two o’clock? We can have a nice visit, I’ll tell you all the embarrassing stories I know about William, and then I’ll fill you in on what we’re doing to help war widows.”
“I’d like that,” Charlotte said. “I can’t wait to hear the embarrassing stories.”
Serena shrugged and made a face. “I regret to say I was only funning. I don’t actually know any embarrassing stories about William, because he’s such a goody-goody.” She gave Charlotte a mischievous smile. “It’s up to you to corrupt him a bit.”
“I’m the wrong person for that job,” Charlotte said firmly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Serena murmured.
“I’m incorruptible, Serena. You know that.”
“So you are, which, I hold to be a very good thing, since Papa has grand plans for your political future. Corrupt was a poor word choice. What I meant was you need to unbend a bit, and be a little naughty once in a while.”
William’s gaze flicked over to Charlotte and she knew he was thinking about their kisses. “I don’t have your penchant for breaking rules, Serena.”
“I try to confine myself to breaking only the stupid ones,” Serena said. She plunked the cards down on the table. “I should get back to my duties as hostess, though, and mingle with the other guests.”
“By all means,” the earl said. “I can keep Miss Hurst entertained.”
“I’m sure you can,” Lady Serena replied with a knowing look. She rose and drifted over to a group of young matrons.
“No need to entertain me,” Charlotte said. “It’s getting late. My brother will be ready to leave soon.”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he said, giving her an endearingly lopsided smile. “I’m at your disposal.”
“Don’t you still have politics to discuss?” she asked, motioning with her head to a cluster of men gathered near the fireplace. It was the same group he’d been a part of earlier.
&n
bsp; “They’ve probably moved on to discussing horses and hounds by now. Or the latest farming techniques.”
“If they’re discussing farming techniques, they’re doing so with quite a bit of animation,” she observed.
“You have a point,” he agreed. “Which reinforces my inclination to stay here with you.”
A footman bearing a silver tray of drinks paused beside them. Charlotte selected a glass of lemonade; William chose sherry.
Charlotte slowly sipped her lemonade, turning over in her mind a comment Serena had made about William. She wanted to ask him about it, and at the same time she wasn’t sure she wished to have an answer because she feared it would confirm what she already knew. But not asking seemed cowardly, and anyway she preferred facing things head-on.
“What plans does Lord Huntington have for you?” she blurted out.
He tilted his head to the side with a bemused expression. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”
“Serena said something about her father having grand plans for your political future. What did she mean by that?”
“I think she’s referring to the fact that Huntington believes I have an affinity for, I suppose you could say, political discourse. And because of that, he encourages me to step up in the political arena.”
“That is a politician’s answer,” she said, “because I have no idea what it means. And it doesn’t really address my question. What plans does he have for you?”
“Let me assure you that the term ‘plans’ in this context has a very nebulous meaning. It would be more accurate to say he harbors ambitions on my behalf. He thinks I could work my way up in Liverpool’s administration, should I wish to.”
Was he trying to offer obtuse answers? Or did it just come naturally?
“So do you wish to? Work your way up the ranks in the prime minister’s government, I mean. And please, just answer the question clearly,” she said, suddenly feeling weary.
“I’m open to the possibility of serving the country in some official capacity.” His answer came out slowly, almost tentatively. “I want to head the reforms commission because I feel so strongly that England needs to make progress in ways this commission can shape. As a peer, I already have a duty to sit in the House of Lords, but beyond that, I don’t have any specific goals for political office.”
“Except for heading the commission,” she said flatly.
“Yes, but that’s only because I know some of the men who want that appointment, and if one of them gets it, I guarantee you nothing good will come of it.”
“But in the future, you would be amenable to accepting other posts. Am I understanding you correctly?” she pressed. Because he still hadn’t answered the question with full clarity. Not in her mind, at least.
“I might be,” he said. “Depending upon the post.”
She didn’t reply, just looked around the room at the other guests. Some still played cards, but more than half of the guests were scattered about the room in small groups, largely divided by gender, although Serena seemed to be attempting to draw some men and women together. But if the evening had a predominant theme, it was one of lively discussion and political debate.
And this was his world.
“I hope you get the chairmanship of the reforms commission,” she said at last. He was the sort of man England needed among the ranks of its leaders.
“Thank you,” he said. He looked pleased at her words. “Let’s hope that the powers that be come to the same conclusion.” He lifted his glass slightly, as if making a toast. Charlotte matched his gesture, and finished the last of her lemonade. He drained the rest of his sherry.
She rose from the table. “I’m going to collect my brother. It’s nearly midnight, and he gets grumpy when he’s up too late.”
“You’re joking,” he said, coming to his feet as well.
“Actually, I’m not.” This was true, as far as it went, though she didn’t make it a practice to oversee her brother’s bedtime. It was merely an excuse to leave, since she couldn’t admit the real reason—their discussion had left her blue-deviled and she craved solitude.
In a stroke of good timing, Phillip’s card game had just ended as she reached his chair. He stood, yawned widely, and said, “I hope you’ve come to tell me you’re ready to head home.” He yawned again, and Charlotte, who was a bit tired herself, couldn’t quite stifle an answering yawn. That prompted another head-splitting yawn from Phillip.
“Dash it, Charlotte, don’t start that. I’m tired.” Phillip opened his eyes wide and gave his head a little shake.
She shot a pointed look at William before turning back to her brother. “I didn’t start it. You did. We’d best be going before you fall asleep on your feet.”
They bid good night to their hosts, and Lady Serena reminded Charlotte about their meeting the next day. William accompanied them to their coach.
“Good night, Charlotte.” He bent over her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles, and when he straightened his gaze held hers a long moment before sweeping down to linger on her mouth. “Sweet dreams,” he said huskily.
“Good night, Lord Norwood.”
He handed her up but didn’t release her hand right away. “Parting with you, Charlotte, is a sweet sorrow,” he said in a low voice. “Since we must, I hope I dream of you till it be morrow.”
Charlotte blinked at this unexpectedly romantic rephrasing of the quote from Romeo and Juliet, too surprised by it to think of any good reply. He smiled and stepped back so that Phillip could climb in.
He raised a hand in farewell as the coach pulled away. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Charlotte breathed normally again.
Phillip loosened his cravat. “Gad, I’m done in. I hate these affairs where the main entertainment is talking, talking, and more talking. Can’t tell you how glad I was when Huntington suggested bringing out the card tables.” He gave Charlotte a keen look. “Where did you go off to with Norwood?”
“He and Lady Serena showed me the library,” Charlotte said. “I got to see one of Lord Huntington’s Shakespeare folios.”
Phillip made a face. “I guess if anyone enjoys perusing old books, it would be you.”
“You make it sound like a moral failing,” she said, giving a little laugh.
“Didn’t mean to if I did. Just thinking that Norwood could go about it better when it comes to wooing a girl.”
“Since he isn’t wooing me, I fail to see your point.”
“Don’t have one really,” he said, turning toward the window. “Although I thought Norwood might have taken you out for a moonlight stroll. Seems the sort of man who wouldn’t let a night like this go to waste.”
Was Phillip probing because he suspected something had gone on in the moonlight? Or was he, like the earl’s sisters, trying to push a match between the two of them? She couldn’t decide which. It was unlike him to be suspicious of her actions, although in this instance he would have reason to. But the last thing she’d expect from her brother was a spot of matchmaking.
“No moonlight stroll,” Charlotte said, wondering what Phillip would say if she admitted there’d been a fair amount of kissing in the moonlight. Not that she intended to admit this. He was a forbearing brother, but even he would object to her kissing a man in a garden with no intent to marry him.
“Pity,” her brother said, leaning his head back against the seat, as if intending to doze off in the carriage.
“For heaven’s sake, do you want me to marry Lord Norwood?”
“You could do worse,” he replied. His still-reclined head rocked slightly side to side with the movement of the carriage. He sounded sleepy, enunciating the words in a less-than-precise manner. “And it would save a deal of trouble. Wouldn’t have to go through all this again.”
“Go through all what again?”
He yawned. “Negotiating marriage settlements. Accepting invitations like tonight. Having Norwood come to call on you.”
“In the
first place, you will recall I protested the need for a marriage settlement. And anyway, it didn’t appear you did much negotiating beyond having your solicitor look over the contract Lord Norwood supplied. And in the second—”
Phillip waved a hand in the air. “Too tired to debate it tonight.” He yawned again. “We can discuss it tomorrow if you want.”
“I don’t want,” Charlotte said. Her brother just nodded tiredly.
They rode on in silence. Or near silence. Phillip breathed deeply and audibly in his sleep.
Charlotte fixed her gaze out the window and tried not to dwell on that kiss in the garden, or to imagine what William might dream if he did dream about her.
She sighed. She doubted she was going to sleep well that night.
Chapter Thirteen
Here we are. Number Six, Red Lion Square,” Serena announced as the Huntington coach rolled to a stop. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m dragging you about town rather than serving you tea and biscuits in a drawing room.”
“Heavens, no. Nothing against tea and biscuits, of course,” Charlotte said, smiling. “I wanted to know more about your work with the war widows. It’s more interesting to see things firsthand than simply be told about them.”
A footman opened the carriage door, lowered the step, and they exited. Number 6, Red Lion Square, turned out to be an unremarkable multistory building in the southwest corner of what was one of the more unremarkable of London’s garden squares, having faded from fashionability sometime in the last century. It still retained a measure of shabby gentility and was known as a favorite location for aristocratic gentlemen who wanted a convenient love nest to house a mistress.
The few people walking along the street looked respectable enough, though one well-dressed gentleman seemed to take an unusual interest in them, staring in their direction rather rudely. Charlotte didn’t recognize him, but since Serena hadn’t noticed him, she didn’t bother asking if she knew him.
Not the Kind of Earl You Marry Page 17
