“Your home is in Devonshire, Lady Charlotte?” he asked now.
Charlotte smiled. “It is. Cranwick Manor is perched atop a hill. The views are quite lovely. You can see over the rolling green fields, towards the village. On a clear day you can see all the way to the sea. It is my favourite place in the world.” Her voice was wistful.
“You miss it,” said Sebastian, glancing at her. “Being in London is a chore for you. I can tell.”
She sighed. “I have enjoyed myself here more than I thought I would, my lord. But yes, I must admit that I am longing for my home. I find the crowds here trying, and sometimes long for the open space of our country estate.”
Sebastian paused for a moment. “Is that the reason that you have avoided the seasons in London since your debut? I find it puzzling that I have not spied you on the circuit at all these past few years.”
She stiffened slightly. “I have already said that I prefer the quiet country life, my lord. There is no puzzle about it. When my family come to the city I stay with a companion and continue my usual routines.”
There was an awkward pause. Her eyes were glued to the path and she didn’t stop to turn to him as she spoke.
Sebastian thought carefully. “What do you like to do when you are in the country?”
“Oh, the usual things a lady does to pass the time,” she said, laughing lightly. “I embroider and read …” Her voice trailed off.
“Do you play an instrument?” He paused. “You have such an appreciation of music, I was sure that you are accomplished in that regard.”
“I do like the pianoforte and have lately re-acquainted myself with the joy of playing it, after a long spell.”
“Why so long?” His voice was soft.
She shrugged, still staring down the path. “Oh, I do not know. These things happen, I suppose. I have been busier with other pursuits.”
He stared out over the water. “I can imagine that you would enjoy all the accoutrements of country living as well,” he said. “Do you enjoy riding? My father keeps a very good stable here. Perhaps we could saddle a couple of his finest horses and take a ride in Hyde Park one day.”
Charlotte stopped walking abruptly. “That is a very kind offer, my lord. But I must decline it. My equestrian skills are lacking, I am afraid.”
He stared at her. She had grown pale and her dark eyes were wide, as if she was seeing something in the distance that no one else was privy to.
“As you wish,” he said mildly. “But if you change your mind, the offer is always open, Lady Charlotte.”
“I shall not change it,” she said quickly.
Suddenly, there was an explosion of colour over the water. Luminous streams of fireworks fell like ribbons through the sky. All the people strolling the path stopped, marvelling at the spectacle.
Charlotte gasped. “I have never seen anything like it,” she cried, her eyes as wide as saucers. “It is so beautiful.”
“Indeed it is,” he said slowly, his eyes rivetted on her face. “As are you, my lady.”
Charlotte turned to him slowly. Her cheeks were pink. “You are kind, my lord. But too generous. I am no beauty and do not claim to be.” She paused. “Unlike your friend, Miss Drake. I am sure that her beauty is famed.”
Sebastian’s heart beat a little faster as he studied her. “You do yourself a disservice, Lady Charlotte. There is more to beauty than meets the eye. And I have always preferred the subdued loveliness of the dove over the garish feathers of the peacock.”
Charlotte’s blush deepened. “Are you comparing me to the dove?”
“I am.” He gazed down at her, eyes narrow. “You drift through the world not seeking attention, but my eyes are drawn to you, as surely as day follows night.”
She took a deep breath. “I … do not know what to say. I am afraid I am unused to flirtation.”
“This is not flirtation, Lady Charlotte.” His eyes never left hers. “I am not a superficial man, given to praise for the sake of it, like many others. My regard is hard won, and yet you have had it almost from the first moment that I spoke to you, when I walked into you that day on Bond Street.”
Charlotte stared at him, seemingly at a loss for words. But at that moment her brother and sister were upon them.
“Watching the fireworks?” grinned George, staring at them both. “What a display. This is quite a night.”
“Dearest,” said Diana, staring hard at her sister. “You look overcome. Did they scare you?”
Charlotte started, as if she only just realised that they were there. “Oh, no, Di. They were beautiful. As you would imagine stars should explode, if they ever did such a thing.” She blinked rapidly. “There is so much in this world that I have not known, or experienced.”
Diana smiled. “There is. But you are making up for lost time, now.”
Charlotte nodded. Sebastian stared at her. She seemed pensive. Had he been too forward with her? The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. And yet he had been compelled to speak. To tell her of how much his admiration for her had grown in the short time they had known each other.
“We’d best be on our way,” said George. “The performance starts soon, doesn’t it?”
Sebastian nodded. “Indeed it does. I think we were both a little overcome by the spectacle, but time waits for no man.”
“How true,” said Charlotte, in a small voice.
They continued down the Grand Walk. He could see the golden statue of Aurora in the distance, signalling the end of the path. His heart dropped just a little. He could have walked with her for ever.
***
Sebastian sat in the supper box staring at the violinist without really seeing him. He could barely hear the music either. He had been looking forward to this performance, but now he found he could barely concentrate, and didn’t care a fig about it. All he could think about was Lady Charlotte and the way that she had looked at him when he had been so bold as to call her lovely.
Irresistibly his eyes were drawn to her. Charlotte looked as though she were far away and not really listening to the music either. Beside her, George and Diana seemed enraptured, their eyes shining. She sat between them. Occasionally one would rest a hand on her arm, or lean towards her, to whisper something in her ear. Their gazes were always solicitous. At one moment Diana leaned in and adjusted Charlotte’s shawl, pulling it higher onto her shoulders.
Sebastian frowned as he watched the trio. They were obviously close, as siblings were wont to be. He understood that. He had always been fond of his own brother, especially as it was only the two of them. The duchess had lost three children in childbirth when he and Percy were still quite young and they had only ever had each other as playmates. He knew something about the special bond between siblings.
And yet … there was something else going on between the Lumley siblings. The way Charlotte was positioned, right in the middle, as if they were shielding her, somehow. To keep an eye on her. The way they constantly turned to her, as if assuring themselves that she was all right. The almost maternal way that Diana adjusted her sister’s shawl.
As if they were protecting her. As if they were used to this, and did it naturally, almost like breathing.
He turned back to the violinist. The man was reaching a crescendo in his performance, his bow flying over the violin so quickly he could barely see it touch the strings. The music was beautiful, but he still couldn’t feel it. He felt as though something was just beyond his grasp.
Charlotte hadn’t given any indication that there was something in her past to explain why she had stayed in the country all those years and why her parents never spoke of her. She claimed that it was simply because she preferred the country life and didn’t like the crowds in London. It could be as simple as that, he told himself. Of course it could be. Many people preferred the country.
He frowned again. When Diana and George had reached them on the walk, Charlotte had talked about how there was so much in life she hadn’t experience
d. What was it that Diana had said to her in response? Then her words fell into his mind.
You are making up for lost time, now.
Sebastian drew in a quick breath. Why was Charlotte making up for lost time? Why was she lamenting the fact that she had not experienced much and yearned to?
There was something. He knew it. Some truth to the rumours about her, just as Freddie had claimed.
His eyes drifted towards her again, pondering. She wasn’t going to tell him, that much was obvious. And he could only pry so much before she became suspicious as to why he was questioning her.
She was staring up at the sky, now, as if her mind was drifting away. Transported by the music? He could see the emotion on her face, just like at the opera. She was like an open book when she was moved in such a manner. His heart beat faster just watching her.
He didn’t care, he decided. He didn’t care about the rumours swirling around her, or the warning Freddie had given him to stay away from her. He didn’t give a fig what the ton thought about Lady Charlotte Lumley. That was the truth of it.
Chapter 10
Charlotte walked into the drawing room. Her parents were sitting in the matching teak and brocade green armchairs on either side of the fireplace, facing each other. Both looked unusually sombre. George and Diana had just entered the room and were sitting down on the chaise longue, gazing at them expectantly.
Charlotte frowned as she quietly joined her siblings. She had been painting in the garden when Dulcie had come out, saying that her parents requested her in the drawing room immediately. This was unusual. The earl and countess commonly left their children to their own devices during the day. She rarely saw them, except at meal times.
“Do you know why, Dulcie?” she had asked the maid, paintbrush suspended in mid-air.
Dulcie had shrugged. “I don’t, my lady. But a messenger came this morning, requesting to see the countess, so mayhap that has something to do with it.”
Charlotte gazed at Diana now, eyebrows raised questioningly. Diana shrugged and George seemed as mystified as all of them. He was absently playing with a loose button on his shirt sleeve, twirling it around as if it were a ball of some kind. For some reason, the action irritated her. What was going on?
“Children.” The countess turned to them now. Charlotte was appalled to see that her eyes were red-rimmed. “I am afraid I have sorrowful news. My dearest sister Eliza, your beloved aunt, passed away yesterday morning.”
Charlotte gasped and Diana’s hands flew to her mouth. George seemed stunned. The earl reached out towards his wife, taking her hand.
“How?” gasped Charlotte. “How?”
The countess sighed heavily. “I am afraid I have precious little information on that matter, Charlotte. But I can guess. She has been declining for months. The last time I visited with her she was putting on a brave face, as was her wont, but I knew that she was poorly.”
Tears sprang into Charlotte’s eyes. Her Aunt Eliza had indeed been beloved by everyone. She had never married or had a family of her own and had devoted herself to her nieces and nephew. Aunt Eliza had stayed with them for extended periods at Cranwick Manor, dividing her time between her sister’s home and her own, which she had shared with their aged mother until that venerable lady had passed a few years previously.
Tears slipped down Charlotte’s face. After her own accident, Aunt Eliza had come down to tend to her, holding her hand when she had been screaming in agony. Often, she would wake to find Aunt Eliza by her side, gazing at her lovingly.
Now, she was gone. Suddenly, with no warning. She had been ripped out of their lives as if she had never even been there.
The countess stood. “I am afraid I must retire to my chambers. This news has shocked me and I believe a rest is in order.”
The earl rose too, staring at her with concerned eyes. “I will accompany you, my dear, and see that you are settled.”
They walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them.
“I cannot believe it,” whispered Diana, shaking her head. She was pale. “The last time I saw dear Aunt Eliza she was in good spirits, despite what our lady mother says. I did not detect that she was poorly. Did you, Lottie?”
Charlotte shook her head slowly. “No, Di. She was her usual self, as far as I could see. Concerned for everyone but herself. She was always such a generous soul.” Abruptly, the trickle of tears turned into a torrent.
George put his arm awkwardly around her shoulders. “There, there, Lottie. She is at peace now, whatever happened to her. I don’t suppose we shall know until we speak to her servants, and the lady companion she had since Grandmama died.”
Diana bit her lip. “I must admit, even though she was in good spirits, I did have some concerns.”
Charlotte dried her tears with the handkerchief George had just given her. “What do you mean, Di?”
Diana squirmed restlessly on the seat. “Our mother admits that she was poorly, and I think that Aunt Eliza was hiding it from us. You know what she was like – she would always put her own needs below everyone else’s.”
George frowned. “Now that you mention it, Di, I have had my suspicions too. The way she would retire to her bed sometimes. She would often emerge looking pale and as worn as a dishrag.”
“You think she has been sick for years?” breathed Charlotte.
“Perhaps.” Diana’s voice was low. “You know what Mama is like, Lottie. She would not tell us even if she knew the truth. For some reason, our parents like to pretend that everything is well, when it patently is not.”
Charlotte turned away and stared at the wall. It was true. It was exactly as they had acted with her, as soon as it had become obvious that she was suffering strange symptoms after her accident. Even as they sought physicians for her, they had tried to pretend that it wasn’t as bad as she was making out. They had hidden her condition from everyone as well.
Had they done the same thing with poor Aunt Eliza?
Suddenly, rage washed over her. If it was true, then it was unfair. If she and her siblings had known there was something wrong with their aunt, they could have spent more time with her. Helped her in her hour of need, rather than leaving her with a paid lady companion. A woman who had treated her well but did not love her the way that they did.
“What is wrong with them?” she cried, bursting into tears anew. “Why do they do this?”
George and Diana stared at her, alarmed. Diana got up quickly, coming to her side, but Charlotte brushed her off angrily, standing up and striding to the mantelpiece.
“Dearest,” said Diana quietly. “You must calm down. It is not good for you to become so heightened.”
“Oh, I am sick of hearing it!” cried Charlotte, barely able to see through her tears. “I must not overtax myself, for fear of bringing on my malady.” She drew a ragged breath. “I should be able to mourn my aunt, and cry out at the injustice she has suffered, if her own pain was hidden from the world. Just like mine has been.”
“Lottie,” said George, standing up. “I agree with what you say. If there was something seriously wrong with Aunt Eliza and it was hidden from us, then you have a right to be angry. We all do. But Diana is correct as well. You must not become too vexed.”
“None of you know!” cried Charlotte. “None of you can understand what it is like.” She was pacing the room, wringing her hands. “You cannot understand what it is like, feeling like you are not safe, every day of your life!”
George and Diana stared at her, mouths agape.
“I have tried,” Charlotte said, in an anguished whisper. “I have tried to ignore it and carry on my life as if it is not hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles, waiting to decapitate me at any given moment. But it is so very hard to bear. You can plan your futures, knowing that you both have years ahead of you. Old age will arrive one day. I cannot say the same for myself.”
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