Charlotte stole a look at her mother. Perhaps she would also find herself seeking refuge in frequent glasses of sherry once she was married to the lord. Something to dull her senses so she could bear her life.
The idea was so depressing that she closed her eyes briefly.
“There he is,” her mother whispered, which had Charlotte opening her eyes to follow her gaze. “Prepare yourself. And for goodness sake, smile.”
“Good evening to you both,” Lord Samuelson said with a bow. “May I have the honor of a dance?” he asked Charlotte after pleasantries were exchanged.
“The pleasure would be mine.” She curtsied with what she hoped resembled a smile rather than a grimace.
He escorted her to the dance floor, not bothering with conversation. She pushed aside the ache at the thought of James and comforted herself that at least this was one thing she and Lord Samuelson both enjoyed.
The scotch reel was a lively dance, and her spirits rose as the music began. While Lord Samuelson wasn't especially light on his feet, she ignored his lack of skill for the moment and focused on the steps. The faces of those along the dance floor were a blur as they moved quickly across the floor.
But one face was clearly visible and caused her to falter.
James.
Her heart hammered, threatening to escape her chest. She quickly caught up with the other dancers yet couldn't help but crane her neck to look for him, wondering if she’d been mistaken. What was he doing there? She certainly hadn’t expected to see him this evening. Especially given the way they’d parted.
She’d only had a glimpse of him, but he seemed to be watching her intently. Or was that merely her imagination? Did he wish to speak to her? Though her heart lifted at the thought, she quickly reined in her hope. If he suggested a new adventure despite her having told him she was done with them, she’d have to refuse. Her low spirits returned, and the dance lost its luster.
Luckily, Lord Samuelson didn't seem to notice the change in her mood. After the music drew to a close, he patted her hand before moving it to the crook of his arm. “Won't it be a relief when we don't have to bother dancing?”
“You don't care to dance?”
“No, I do not.”
While not completely surprised, she sighed with disappointment. They truly had nothing in common. As he guided her through the guests toward her mother, she couldn’t resist looking for James, but he seemed to have disappeared. She told herself that was for the best even as she continued searching for him.
“Is there someone for whom you're looking?” Lord Samuelson asked.
“I was hoping my friend Miss Gold would be here this evening.”
“I do hope you don't intend to encourage a friendship with someone like her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She appears to have little regard for proper behavior,” he said with a frown of disapproval. “She has no respect for her betters.”
“Betters?” That was another strike against him. Charlotte took some pleasure in the thought that Margaret didn't like him either.
“She and her family are merely upstarts.”
“Her father was awarded a knighthood for his service to England. Surely you appreciate that,” Charlotte argued.
“To a certain extent, yes. However, that doesn’t compare to a peer.”
Charlotte jerked to a halt, the urge to defend her friend rushing through her.
“Charlotte?” Her mother's stern tone had her blinking. She clamped her lips tight before she expressed what was truly on her mind. Never would she allow her husband to decide who her friends were.
Yet as she looked at her mother, whose narrowed gaze held a warning, she realized she might not have a choice. While Lady Wynn had many acquaintances, Charlotte couldn’t name any with whom her mother frequently visited. Was that because of her father?
Doubt flooded Charlotte as she glanced at Lord Samuelson. How could she go along with her father’s order when everything about it felt so wrong?
“Good evening,” a deep voice said from behind her, sending a torrent of shivers along her skin.
She slowly turned to face James, and her entire world settled into place, along with her heart.
~*~
James ignored the tension in the air as he greeted Lady Wynn and Charlotte. “I hope this evening finds you both well.” Then he nodded at Lord Samuelson, wishing the man would go away.
“Redmond,” Samuelson said, his tone rather chilly, suggesting he wished the same of James.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Charlotte said, sounding rather breathless. A lovely rose flushed her cheeks as her blue-green eyes held on him.
He drank in her presence, realizing how much he’d missed her. He hadn’t been able to ignore the bone-deep need he’d had to see her.
The conversation with his mother and father had eased some of his worries and made him feel almost normal. He’d spent the past two days considering what his father had said, and an unfamiliar, fragile hope had slowly grown within him.
He needed to process his conflicting emotions about the war before he could seriously consider a different path for his future than the one on which he’d settled. But if he waited too long, he’d miss the possibility of Charlotte.
He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was the key to everything he wanted. He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but surely he was a better choice for her, broken parts and all, than Samuelson. When Edward had mentioned she would be attending the ball, he couldn’t resist coming as well.
“May I have the honor of a dance?”
“I’d enjoy that.” She said the words quickly while avoiding looking at her mother and offered her hand as if anxious to escape.
“Why do I feel as if I interrupted something?” James asked as he escorted her to the dance floor.
“You didn’t.” She opened her mouth as if to explain but shook her head. “I didn’t expect to see you again. At least not for a while.” The quick glance she gave him from beneath her lashes was full of questions.
He didn’t know if he had answers. He only knew that the time they’d spent together over the past few weeks made him feel something he hadn’t thought possible. While he wasn’t certain he could name it, what he felt for her was special. A gift not to be ignored.
Seeing her dancing with Lord Samuelson had made him even more determined to convince her to give him a chance if it wasn’t too late. He couldn’t let her go without a fight.
“I’ve missed you.” The words slipped out before he thought better of them.
Her eyes widened, her expression softening. “I’ve missed you as well.” When she glanced over her shoulder to where Lord Samuelson remained with her mother, he knew the situation was complicated.
“Let us focus on the dance, shall we?” he suggested. They had many things to discuss but none of them could be resolved this evening. He’d only wanted her to know that he cared for her. With luck, that would open possibilities. For the moment, that was enough.
They joined the other couples and moved in time to the music.
“Your skills are improving,” Charlotte declared with a laugh.
“I’ve been practicing.”
“You have?”
“Only with you.” He took her hand to turn and step toward the opposite end of the dance floor. “You provided the inspiration I needed.” Did she realize he wasn’t speaking only of dancing?
She smiled and his heart shifted. That alone told him he was doing the right thing.
“Are there any adventures in your future?” he asked when the dance allowed the question. He chose to ignore the fact that she’d told him she couldn’t see him again when they last parted. He hoped to convince her otherwise.
The glow in her face dimmed. “No.” Her gaze shifted toward where her mother stood. “Those are no longer possible.”
Concern filled him as he studied her expression. �
�Oh?”
“My father’s arrangements are moving along rather quickly.”
“Why the hurry? The Season only recently began.”
“In all honesty, I don’t know. But Father refuses to listen to any suggestions about slowing the plans.”
They finished the dance in silence. James was deep in thought, trying to decide how best to proceed. But before he considered his options, he needed to know one important detail.
“Charlotte,” he began as he offered his arm, hoping he could find the right way to ask his question, “if I were to call on you soon—”
Tears filled her eyes even as she shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise.” She glanced at her mother as if worried she could somehow overhear their conversation.
“Set aside what everyone else wants,” he whispered as he walked as slowly as possible toward Lady Wynn. “How would you feel if I called on you?”
“You must know how much I would enjoy that.” Yet she looked away. “But I fear it’s too late.”
“We shall see.” He had to think it wasn’t given the fact that her betrothal hadn’t yet been announced.
“James, I don’t think—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course.” She replied without hesitation, and his heart shifted.
“That is all I need to know.” He lifted her gloved hand to brush his lips against it. “I will see you soon.”
The time had come to move forward with his life. To claim it as his own. To act rather than react. The future was coming regardless of whether he welcomed it. If he had a chance for happiness with Charlotte, he needed to reach for it. To fight for her and all that simmered between them. Being with her helped to mend the broken parts of him. He wouldn’t rest until he was whole enough to deserve her.
Chapter Sixteen
James walked into the club for the meeting with the Earl of Granger the following morning, a mix of curiosity and wariness coursing through him. He couldn’t see how he was in any position to help other soldiers when he struggled to slay his own demons. But he wanted to move forward, especially with Charlotte. Perhaps listening to Granger might help in some way.
To his surprise, Granger was already seated at a table in a corner. He rose at James’ approach and reached to shake his hand with a firm grip.
“Good to see you, Redmond. Thank you for meeting me.” His determination in all he undertook caused him to be an intimidating man. Dark hair and a serious demeanor added to the impression.
“My pleasure.” James took a seat, relieved to see the table the earl had selected afforded them some privacy. “I confess that I don't feel I'm in any position to help other soldiers. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
Granger smiled noncommittally, his expression softening. “If nothing else, I would appreciate your opinion on some of the efforts we've made thus far. I believe you were a captain in the infantry?”
“Yes, I bought my commission in 1812 and initially fought in Portugal and Spain.” Even the mention of those dark days tightened his stomach. “And, of course, at Waterloo.”
Granger nodded. “The infantry was the only force not to suffer a major defeat at Napoleon’s hands. Still, those years must’ve been difficult in many respects.”
“They were. Especially on the men in my battalion. Then again, war isn't easy for anyone.” Admitting that had him shifting uncomfortably.
“While those who remained home are pleased it’s over, I don't think most understand how difficult it is for the returning soldiers. For some men, the troubles have continued.”
“True,” James agreed. “Many find it difficult to speak to their loved ones of what happened and what they endured.”
“Have you found that to be the case as well?”
James considered brushing off the question but the curiosity and empathy in Granger's expression encouraged an honest answer. “I am still trying to adjust. While part of me wishes to forget everything that happened, doing so has proven impossible. Yet speaking about it brings emotions back to the surface.” He sighed. “Neither option seems helpful.”
“I have spoken with officers and soldiers alike who share those same mixed feelings. War is a traumatic experience and, in all honesty, it would be concerning if those who served were not affected by it. Coming home with both internal and external scars confirms one’s humanity. Only those with no heart walk away unscathed. I don’t believe those are the type of men we want fighting on England’s behalf.”
A certain measure of comfort settled over James to know he wasn’t alone in the way he felt. He hadn't realized how isolated he'd become since his return. Understanding others suffered from the same issues he did was both a relief and a concern.
“I was pleased to hear someone such as yourself has taken an interest in the soldiers and their challenges,” James said, already certain that Granger’s desire to help was sincere. “Considering the army went from 40,000 men in 1793 to over 250,000 by 1813, and now has reduced to nearly half that, the need is great. Many could use a helping hand to return to their feet.”
“A significant number returned home injured and are no longer able to do the same work they did prior to joining the war effort.” Granger leaned forward, his gaze holding James’. “I don't care to think they'll be punished for the rest of their lives by remaining unemployed and a burden to their families.”
“Agreed. Hopelessness takes a heavy toll. What types of assistance does your charity provide?” James was curious as he could name several men in his battalion who had lost a limb or worse, which made it difficult to return to farming or factory work.
“We work with several trades to help those who wish to learn new skills. Thus far those include cabinetmakers, masons, and bakers. Those former soldiers who are interested complete an apprenticeship of at least three months, sometimes six, depending on the level of difficulty and their own skills. Often they provide enough help to earn a modest wage during the apprenticeship.”
“Excellent.” James was pleased to think even a few men might be given a new lease on life.
“We have found that giving them a purpose, even if it's different from what they expected to do upon their return, has made a significant improvement to their wellbeing.”
“I'm sure it lifts both their spirits and finances.” Hadn’t his father suggested having a purpose would aid him?
“The reason I wanted to speak with you was because as an officer, many soldiers continue to look up to you. Your name has been mentioned several times by soldiers with whom I’ve spoken.”
“Oh?” James hadn't been in contact with any of his men since his return. In all honesty, he’d felt too unsteady to be of assistance or offer advice, but that hadn’t eased his guilt. How could he help others when he was experiencing his own difficulties? But Granger’s remark had him reconsidering whether he could help in some way. In fact, he’d be honored to do so.
“Unfortunately, a few of the officers we approached insist the men need to have a stiff upper lip and get on with their lives rather than dwelling on the past.” Granger’s brow furrowed, leaving James in no doubt how strongly the earl disagreed with that line of thinking.
“I can attest to the poor results of such an approach,” James admitted.
“You’re not alone. Some men have adjusted more easily than others. Our goal is to reach as many former soldiers as possible. By increasing the variety of trades willing to train them, everyone benefits. We’ve most recently added a screen maker and a tire smith.”
“Interesting.” A screen maker would need a certain degree of artistic skill to paint or design the screens many residences used to keep heat where they wanted it. And there was always a need for ironworkers skilled in building and repairing carriages and other vehicles.
“Some positions pay better than others, of course. Unfortunately, we’ve encountered a fair number of men who are too proud to take an apprenticeship, insisting tha
t such things are better suited for boys rather than men.”
“Pride can be a difficult beast.” James had seen that for himself. Accepting help felt like admitting a problem existed, something men were often reluctant to do.
“That is where we could use the assistance of someone such as you. A conversation with a well-respected officer might shed a different light on the opportunities we offer.”
James nodded, surprised to realize how much the thought of helping appealed to him.
“We would ask you to visit with the men from your battalion first and explain what the charity offers. Your encouragement might convince them to try one of the apprenticeships. Do you remember Barnaby or Polton? Each of them lost a leg.”
“Of course. I remember them well.” The fact that Granger knew the men by name was impressive and suggested how personally involved he was in the charity. “I knew they’d been injured but lost touch with them after they returned home.” While he’d taken care to visit the makeshift hospitals set up for the injured, his battalion had marched on soon afterward, leaving some of his men behind.
“They’ll be meeting with a few tradesmen at our registry office later this week. If you could stop by, I know they’d be pleased to see you. Your recommendation might make all the difference.”
“I would be honored.” James had searched for several of his men upon his return with little success. Speaking to them now seemed the least he could do given what they’d lost in the war.
“Excellent.” Granger nodded. “While you’re there, I’ll share more of what we’re doing and see if you have suggestions as to how else we might help. The more people who know what we’re doing, the broader our reach.”
“I look forward to it.” James realized it was true. What better way to help himself than to help others? For the first time in a long while, he looked forward to the next day because of something other than seeing Charlotte. Perhaps his life truly was taking a turn toward the better.
James had her to thank, along with his mother and father and Granger, for the renewed purpose that filled him.
To Dare a Rogue Page 18