When she had turned to look at him, James felt incredibly guilty. He had shocked her, and he knew it, but he could not imagine how it could have been avoided. If he had written to her beforehand to let him know that he would be at Lady Elton’s bridge afternoon, James knew that there was a strong likelihood that Charlotte would never have come at all.
And yet the look on her face had dug hard into his heart, affecting him greatly. She looked stunned, as well she might. James had thought that she would turn away from him immediately, but she did not, she just continued to stare back. The whole thing had reminded him a little cruelly of the very first day he had seen her, that very first time when he had stared at her outside Hanover Hall and she, not willing to give in, had stared back.
But there was nothing playful about this, nothing new and wondrous. It was a look which contained everything, hurt and pain, anger,and resentment; even fear. And why would she not be fearful? After all, she was away from home, in a new environment altogether, and she had suddenly been confronted with the man who had let her down so badly.
James had wanted to rescue her from her own feelings, to dash across to her and tell her that he loved her still, he always had. He wanted to wipe away three years of uncertainty and tell her that nothing had ever changed for him.
The moment he had taken that first step, he saw Charlotte draw in a breath before turning away from him and looking all about the room. Instead of continuing to make his way towards her, James simply stood where he was. He knew that she was looking for some escape and that he would have to allow her that much. After all, did he not owe her the right to have this first meeting after so many years conducted in a manner that she saw fit rather than a manner that he saw fit?
Yes, he had no doubt that Charlotte Cunningham had earned that right and so he stayed where he was and watched, fighting every instinct to go to her and take her in his arms.
James looked on helplessly as Charlotte was introduced to a man some years older than he was, a fair-haired man who seemed to be almost entirely expressionless. But James understood entirely why Charlotte had chosen him; a man so disinterested would undoubtedly be easy company in which a young woman could put her own emotions to rights again.
And yet still it hurt somehow; it pained him to see her dashing off in the direction of another man, any other man, and for any reason. He knew he did not have a right to such hurt, but he also knew that everything that had gone before had hurt him too.
But, of course, Charlotte could not be expected to know that. As far as she was concerned he had kissed her and walked away.
James, for his part, could not begin to see how he could ever put that right again. As kind as it had been of Hector to make him aware of Charlotte’s close proximity, perhaps it would have been kinder had he said nothing.
“Have you managed to get a game yet, Your Grace?” Lady Elton said, smiling warmly as she bore down upon him.
She had whom he assumed to be Gwendolyn Dearborn in tow, holding that lady’s hand in her own and clearly getting ready to make an introduction.
There certainly was a family resemblance and, had he known no different, James might have thought the gently aging woman with the faded chestnut hair to be Charlotte’s mother.
“No, I have not had a mind to play just yet. I am rather enjoying your wonderful drawing room and very fine company, My Lady.” James said and inclined his head respectfully.
In truth, he did not particularly feel like holding up his end of the conversation, but he knew he could not escape it. In any case, it might be advantageous to make the acquaintance Charlotte’s aunt.
“Then might I introduce you to yet more wonderful company, Your Grace?” Lady Elton said and turned to look at her companion. “This is Mrs. Gwendolyn Dearborn.”
“How very nice to meet you, Mrs.Dearborn,” James said and bowed deeply. “I do believe I know your name although I am certain that we have never met.”
“Oh, it is very nice to meet you, at last, Your Grace.” Mrs. Dearborn said and bobbed dutifully.
“Mrs. Dearborn is a great friend of mine, Your Grace, and a regular attendee at my bridge afternoons.” Lady Elton peered over her shoulder to where Charlotte was determinedly keeping her focus on the game at hand, looking almost as intent on it as her rather dull partner. “And hopefully, once Mrs. Dearborn’s niece is finished playing her current game, I might be able to introduce you to her also.”
“I am already acquainted with Miss Charlotte Cunningham.” James said, realizing that he must do something.
It was enough, surely, that he had upended Charlotte so cruelly that he did not need to put her through the ordeal of an introduction if all she wanted in the world was to be away from him.
“Oh, I see.” Lady Elton said and tried to hide her surprise in a way that Gwendolyn Dearborn could not.
“Yes, I met Miss Cunningham some years ago when I was a guest at Hanover Hall. And I have been a guest on a number of occasions at Thurlow manor also.” He spoke in a noncommittal way and he watched as both women slowly came to their own conclusions.
Gwendolyn Dearborn frowned a little but quickly recovered herself and James could see that she had realized that there had, at some stage, been something of significance between the two of them.
“Oh yes, of course.” Gwendolyn said hurriedly as if to smooth over the conversation altogether, perhaps even seal it off.
“So, you must let Miss Cunningham continue in her game, I would not have her disturbed simply for the sake of it.” James smiled and looked over again to where Charlotte was concentrating for all she was worth.
He allowed himself a few moments study of her, not caring about the suspicions of the two ladies in his company. Charlotte’s skin had not changed, and her hair was still as vibrant as ever. But the amused, sardonic tilt of her mouth seemed to have been flattened out and he knew it had much to do with him.
“Quite so, Your Grace.” Lady Elton said brightly, catching on to the whole thing.
“Tell me, who is the gentleman who partners Miss Cunningham?” James said in a light tone that was designed to sound barely interested. “I do not think I have ever seen him before.”
“Oh, that is Marcus Hillington.” Lady Elton said conversationally. “He is a very bright sort of a man, very clever with investments. I believe he is able to take a small purse of money and turn it into a very large one simply by placing it in this and that idea. I must admit, I do not understand the thing at all, but I believe that he is a very wealthy man.”
“And he has a family?” James knew that his question could not possibly sound disinterested, but he had no other way of framing it.
Whilst he did not seriously consider any particular regard on Charlotte’s part for the man she was sitting next to, still he wanted to know a little more about the austere-looking fair-haired man. More importantly, he wanted to know if the man was already married.
“No, Your Grace, he is a bachelor.” Lady Elton said, and he knew that she was now very sensible of his reason for attending her afternoon of bridge in the first place.
James knew that he would get nowhere else with his questioning, surely there was nothing else to find. It was clear that Charlotte had not already known her bridge partner before being introduced that day. And if he had not surprised her in the way that he had, James was certain that she would never have sought an introduction to Marcus Hillington in the first place.
No, this was just the beginning and Charlotte was going to need time to adjust to all of it. And James knew that she might never adjust to it, she might never want him in her life again. But he knew that there was more to be tried first before he gave up on her entirely and, in the meantime, he would do what he could to ensure that he had not offended his hostess.
“Lady Elton, would you care for a game?” He said, changing the subject altogether and smiling brightly at a very appreciative Lady Elton.
Chapter 26
“Did you sleep well, my dear?” Gw
endolyn said as she bustled into the dining room where Charlotte was already sitting down to breakfast.
“Oh yes, thank you kindly.” Charlotte lied and felt sure that the puffiness around her eyes would give her away.
“This arrived for you just moments ago.” Gwendolyn handed Charlotte a letter.
Charlotte immediately recognized the handwriting, even though she had not seen it for years. It was a letter from James, she had no doubt about that. She was seized by a somewhat less intense feeling of shock than the one she had suffered the day before inLady Elton’s drawing room, but it was unsettling nonetheless.
On very little sleep, the arrival of his letter was all too much, and Charlotte folded it roughly and stowed it, unopened, into the pocket of her gown.
Gwendolyn did not speak at first, she simply sat down at the table and poured herself some tea from the pot. She made no move to help herself to anything from the breakfast dishes but instead leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a sip of hot tea.
“I cannot quite face breakfast until I have had a cup of tea.” Gwendolyn said gently.
“I must admit I always wake up hungry, Aunt Gwendolyn.” Charlotte knew that this was small talk and it was making her strangely uncomfortable.
“Even when you have hardly slept?” Gwendolyn’s question was unexpectedly pointed although delivered with kindness.
“Yes.” Charlotte said and felt her cheeks reddening.
“I do not mean to upset you, my dear.”
“You have not upset me,Aunt Gwendolyn.”
“The letter is from him, is it not?” Gwendolyn said, surprising Charlotte even further. “From the Duke of Sandford, I mean.”
For a moment, Charlotte simply looked at her aunt helplessly. She was surprised at the woman’s instinct, and yet she ought not to have been. For one thing, her behavior in Lady Elton’s drawing room must have been most bizarre. Her insistence that she be introduced to Marcus Hillington must have raised her aunt’s suspicions, and perhaps she had even seen Charlotte look at the Duke and hurriedly turn away from him.
However,if her aunt had discovered their connection, there seemed little point in denying it now.
“Yes, I recognize the handwriting.” Charlotte said simply.
She stared down at her plate for a moment and wondered what on earth she would say next. She was glad, however, that the fire in her cheeks had gone out and her skin was very likely returned to its customary color.
“I am afraid that the Duke gave himself away, my dear. He could not concentrate on conversation with Lady Elton and me for looking across the room to where you were. In the end, he had to admit to knowing you, but it was his questions about Marcus Hillington which truly uncovered him.”
“Marcus Hillington?” Charlotte said incredulously.
“He asked a number of questions which I think were designed to look like mild interest. But he very soon came to the question of Marcus Hillington’s wife or lack thereof, and I knew then that the Duke has some feeling for you. I am right, am I not?”
“I do not think for a minute that the Duke of Sandford has any feelings for me.” Charlotte said and was surprised by the bitterness in her tone.
“But why do you say that? What passed between the two of you that you would sooner spend the afternoon with the dullest man in all the county?”
“Marcus Hillington was very pleasant, Aunt Gwendolyn.” Charlotte said in rusheddefense of a man who was truly very dull indeed.
“But Marcus Hillington is not really the subject of interest here, is he?”
“No, I suppose he is not.”
“The Duke said that he had been to Thurlow Manor, Charlotte. Were you very close?”
“I had thought we were,” Charlotte said sadly. “But it would appear that I was wrong. And anyway, it was three years ago now and it hardly matters anymore.”
“The fact that you are clearly affected by it suggests to me that it does matter. And I could see that it mattered to the Duke also.”
“Aunt Gwendolyn, I can assure you that I do not matter very much the Duke. I was nothing more than an amusement to him, one that only lasted as long as it took him to find somebody else.”
“Somebody else?”
“James Harrington disappeared without trace. One moment he was a regular visitor to Thurlow Manor and Hanover Hall and the next, he was gone. No explanation, no letter of apology, nothing. He just disappeared, retreating back to the west of the county never to return. Yesterday was the first time I have set eyes on him since those days and I must admit that I was very shocked by it. If I embarrassed you in any way with Lady Elton, Gwendolyn, I truly am very sorry. But please understand that my feelings had been incredibly hurt in years gone by and the shock of seeing him standing there before me was very great.”
“Let us be very clear about something, Charlotte. You have nothing to apologize for and you most certainly did not embarrass me in front of Lady Elton.” Gwendolyn reached out for the pot to replenish her tea and smiled warmly at Charlotte. “But who did he reject you in favor of?” Gwendolyn squinted as if confused.
“I have no idea.”
“I ask because that young man has not been linked to any lady for many years that I know of.”
“He has not?” Charlotte realized immediately that she felt relieved.
Not simply relieved that she had not been rejected in favor of somebody else all those years ago, but relieved that he was still unmarried.
Of all the things in the world, she would not have wanted to feel that, but she was unable to stop it. It was a reaction that had a life of its own and there was nothing she could do about it.
But there lay the pathway to pain, of that much Charlotte was certain, and even if she could not entirely master her feelings on the subject, she could certainly control her own actions.
“No, it has been quite the talk of many a drawing room. After all, he is extraordinarily handsome and yet he has shown no interest at all in any young lady. Rumor has it that his father tried very hard to have him settle upon somebody, but he would not do it. I believe it led to a great deal of consternation between the two of them, a certain amount of exasperation on the old Duke’s part.”
“I see.” Charlotte said slowly.
“So perhaps it was something else entirely?”
“Yes, perhaps it was,” Charlotte said, realizing that she had a very good idea what. “Perhaps it was his little game after all.”
“Little game?” Gwendolyn looked perplexed.
“I suppose I was a little standoffish with James Harrington when we first met, and he came to see me as something of a challenge.”
“Indeed?” Gwendolyn gave a knowing smile as if the idea was not entirely foreign to her.
“I resisted for some time, but my feelings grew, and I felt certain that his did also. In the end, I chose to trust not only my own feelings, but his also and allowed myself to fall in love with him. Perhaps when he realized it, that was when his victory was complete, and he had no further use of me.”
“I am bound to say that that is a dreadfully cynical assumption, Charlotte.”
“I cannot think of any other reason for his sudden departure. What else could cause him to cease all contact without any explanation whatsoever?”
“I suppose it could be anything at all,” Gwendolyn said cautiously. “But perhaps you will never know if you do not ask.”
“Perhaps,” Charlotte said quietly. “But I decided long ago that I would never look back. It was a shock to see him yesterday, yes, but I shall not allow that to affect me and my judgment. I feel I can admit to you, Aunt Gwendolyn, that I really did feel so very dreadful at the time and I have vowed never, ever to repeat that experience. Not with the Duke of Sandford, and not with any man.”
“But surely there can be no harm in reading his letter and seeing what it is he has to say.”
“No, I suppose not.” Charlotte said, even though she did not truly believe it.
“Do not look so disquieted, Charlotte, for I do not expect you to open it in front of me and read it now. I simply meant for you to read it when you have a moment alone. It might answer some questions for you, or it might simply allow you to move on just as you had hoped to.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Perhaps even Ruth would sit with you whilst you read it.” Gwendolyn said, and Charlotte was suddenly touched.
Her aunt had perceived the strong friendship between mistress and maid and had seemingly understood it;certainly, she had not poured any scorn on it. And it was true, if that letter was ever going to be read, it would surely be read in the presence of her beloved Ruth.
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