“Nights are the worst.” Polton shook his head.
“I’ve felt all that and more,” James admitted. “How did you find your way out of it?”
“My wife.” Polton blinked rapidly as if he held back tears, his love for her obvious. “She refused to let me wallow. She found crutches to help me walk and kept after me to get up and move. God bless her.”
“And you?” James asked Barnaby.
He smiled sheepishly. “My mother. She nagged me until I found work. It wasn't a good position, but it forced me to rise each morn until this opportunity came along. The earl seems like a good man. He truly has our interests at heart.”
“Indeed,” Polton agreed. “He's helped many. Coming here is always a pleasure as we can speak with fellow soldiers and offer an encouraging word to those who don't have family such as we do.”
James promised to visit the pair again soon. They’d also given him the whereabouts of some of his other men whom he intended to visit in the coming days. He wanted them to know he was thinking of them and was honored to have served with them. If they needed help, he would recommend the registry office without hesitation.
James had seen for himself the enthusiasm with which most of the men greeted the idea of learning new skills. However, there were a few sullen ones whose bitterness etched their faces.
As Granger had pointed out, “We can’t reach everyone. The men must meet us halfway, put aside their pride, and stop wishing for what can’t be. Regrets have no place here.”
James was also impressed with the staff working at the registry office. “I appreciate how everyone here has the same attitude.”
Granger nodded. “That’s something we insist on. We can't change the past or the unfairness of what happened to the soldiers. All we can do is move forward and help them find a better life than they otherwise would have. Our goal is to provide empathy rather than sympathy.”
James was coming to realize that reaching out to others was a good way to help himself. So many were in worse shape than he was. How could he hold tight to his misery when reaching out could make a difference to those who needed assistance?
Now if only he could find a way to have Charlotte, he thought as he walked toward his carriage. Though tempted to simply ask her to elope, he didn't want their life to begin on poor footing. Such an act would forever blemish her reputation. He'd only consider it as a last resort. And that was only if she agreed. But one thing was certain—he was determined not to lose her. If he did, he would lose his heart.
He still hoped to convince Lord Wynn to reconsider. Perhaps Edward might have some suggestions now that he’d had time to think about it. James had already purchased a box of the earl’s favorite cigars and also intended to purchase a bottle of his preferred brandy. Surely such gifts would make the earl reassess James’ worthiness. They couldn’t hurt.
If only he understood the reason Charlotte’s father was so determined to have Samuelson as a son-in-law. The time had come to make a few discreet inquiries regarding their association. Something didn't seem right. Neither Edward nor Charlotte understood it. A visit to Lord Wynn’s club might unearth information. Someone had to know something.
~*~
Charlotte prepared for the Cumberland Ball the following evening with grim determination. She had yet to decide exactly what to say to Lord Samuelson to make it clear she didn’t wish to marry him—without angering him or her father. Lord Wynn had already threatened to send her to live with her aunt in Wales when she’d attempted to speak with him again earlier.
“The subject is closed,” he’d yelled then sent her to her bedchamber.
Her mother continued to be of little assistance. Her disinterest, whether feigned or true, disappointed Charlotte. “You have no choice but to do as your father says.”
Edward had been absent more than he’d been home, so he wasn’t any help. No doubt he was avoiding being with their parents as much as possible.
Speaking with Lord Samuelson was her only option. But what should she say? She dearly hoped James would make an appearance at the ball this evening. Being with him was a welcome reminder of what was at stake. The difficulties that stood in their way would only make their victory sweeter. No matter that victory seemed impossible.
“Lady Wynn wishes to advise you that she will be accompanying you this evening,” her maid said when she bustled into Charlotte’s bedchamber to help her dress.
“Oh dear.” That complicated her plans considerably as she knew her mother would watch her closely.
“I’ll wear the primrose gown instead of the lavender,” she advised Mary. With luck, other ladies would be wearing a similar color. If she stepped away from her mother, she wouldn’t be easy to find in the crowd.
After Mary helped her dress and arrange her hair in a simple chignon, Charlotte awaited her mother in the entrance hall.
Lady Wynn looked her up and down. “You remember Lord Samuelson will be there this evening?”
“Yes.” For once, Charlotte actually hoped to see him and that inspiration would strike when she did. Perhaps she could mention all the reading she’d been doing of late as well as emphasize the many activities she enjoyed that he didn’t care for. Would that be enough to convince him to change his mind about marrying her?
The receiving line was a long one, and it took some time before they entered the ballroom. The hosts had commissioned an impressive chalk pattern of the Cumberland crest on the dance floor. The numerous guests were careful to avoid stepping on it, but that would change when the music began and dancers took the floor. Soft slippers and smooth floors made for a dangerous combination, and chalk prevented anyone from falling.
“That certainly makes a statement,” her mother whispered as she studied the intricate crest.
“What a pity that it will be ruined within the hour when it must’ve taken the artist several days to draw it.” Charlotte couldn’t imagine having something she worked so hard on disappear so quickly. She bit her lip at the thought of the feelings she and James shared fading in a similar manner, trampled by those around them until nothing remained but their memories. She couldn’t allow that to occur.
“At least you won’t slip on the floor.” Lady Wynn turned away, leaving Charlotte to trail behind her.
They made their way slowly around the room toward the refreshment chamber which held glasses of lemonade. The tart taste was perfect as far as Charlotte was concerned, though she didn’t miss how her mother looked for something stronger.
Soon the musicians were warming up. Charlotte was thrilled to see Margaret entering the ballroom with Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Raybourne as well as Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Raybourne.
Margaret searched the crowd until she found Charlotte then smiled brightly in greeting.
“Why don’t we continue around the room?” Lady Wynn suggested.
Charlotte would’ve preferred to wait until Margaret reached them but dutifully followed in her mother’s wake as she paused to greet acquaintances. She couldn’t remember her mother ever having close friends, but it would be challenging to maintain friendships when one’s husband was as difficult as Lord Wynn.
Charlotte hoped that sort of isolation never happened to her. How lonely to be locked in a marriage with a husband one didn’t enjoy spending time with and no friends to ease that discomfort.
“Weren’t you friends with Lady Devlin at one time?” Charlotte asked as a memory stirred when the other woman came into view.
“That was a long time ago.” Her mother watched Lady Devlin carefully, and Charlotte guessed that past times filled her thoughts.
When the hint of a smile played about Lady Wynn’s lips, Charlotte looped her arm through hers. “Let us greet her.”
“No,” her mother protested. “She won’t wish to see me.”
“We’re merely going to wish her well.” Charlotte continued forward until they reached the well-dressed woman who wore a deep red satin gown with a clever
flounce at the hemline. “Good evening, Lady Devlin.”
The lady shifted her bright blue eyes to Charlotte then to Lady Wynn. “And to the two of you. Don’t the pair of you look lovely.” Both her words and tone were warm, but a certain wariness lingered in her blue eyes.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said as she squeezed her mother’s arm, hoping she’d say something—anything—to ease the sudden tension in the air.
“As do you,” Lady Wynn added. “That color is wonderful on you.”
“Do you think so?” Lady Devlin glanced down at her gown. “I had mixed feelings when the dressmaker suggested it.”
Charlotte drew a breath of relief as the two continued to speak for several minutes. Her mother smiled genuinely at least twice during the conversation. Would these few minutes of visiting with Lady Devlin remind her what a difference friendship could make in one’s life?
“Lady Charlotte.”
Charlotte turned with surprise to see Lady Barbara. She hadn’t seen the woman since the awful party when Lord Palmer had given her the champagne with laudanum added.
“Good evening. I haven’t seen you in some time.” Charlotte held tight to her anger. She didn’t know whether Barbara had any inkling as to what her brother had done.
“I’ve been under the weather but am feeling much better now.” She lifted her chin as if daring Charlotte to disagree.
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Charlotte forced herself to be polite despite her suspicions.
“Good evening.” Margaret nodded at them both before facing Barbara. “How is Viscount Palmer?”
Charlotte turned away quickly to hide a smile. Trust Margaret to be direct and to the point.
“I believe he’s well, thank you.” A blush crept up Lady Barbara’s face, suggesting she understood the meaning behind Margaret’s question.
Margaret glanced around as if in search of him. “Is he here this evening?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” Resentment glinted in the lady’s eyes.
“I thought the two of you were close and shared nearly everything.” Charlotte dearly wanted to know whether Barbara knew all that had happened that night.
“I didn’t realize—” Lady Barbara paused, blinking several times. “That is to say I didn’t think—” Then she clamped her lips shut. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone with whom I simply must speak.”
Charlotte watched her stalk away with narrowed eyes.
“She knew,” Margaret whispered.
“I believe you’re right. To think she didn’t warn me.” Charlotte shook her head. “How disappointing.”
“Inconceivable. What did she hope to accomplish by speaking with you this evening? Did she think you didn’t suspect the truth?”
“I don’t know. But the situation is far from over. If I have the chance, I intend to speak with her about it in private.”
“Good.” Margaret nodded. “Heaven forbid if he tries that sort of trick on one of her other friends.”
“That’s why I want to make it clear how wrong her involvement was.” Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to see that her mother continued to visit with Lady Devlin. “I’ve decided to speak with Lord Samuelson,” she whispered to Margaret.
“You have?” Margaret’s eyes went wide. “Whatever will you say?”
“I’m not yet certain. Do you have any suggestions?”
“None, I’m afraid. However, I think it’s a fine idea. Especially before any additional plans are made that can’t be undone.”
While pleased her friend agreed with her, that didn’t make the task ahead easier. Speaking with the lord was only the first of several unpleasant tasks. No matter what she said, her father would be livid when he discovered what she’d done. “I might very well find myself in Wales with Aunt Edith for the remainder of the Season.”
“Aunt Edith? Isn’t she the one who insists on saying prayers every hour on the hour?”
“Yes. She’s also a firm believer that idle hands are the devil’s work.” The few times Charlotte had stayed with her had been quite unpleasant.
“Tell me again why you don’t wish to be ruined by Viscount Redmond?” Margaret muttered. “You could avoid much of this.”
Charlotte bit her lip. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
“Doing nothing would be a mistake.”
“Your advice is not very helpful,” Charlotte said, causing Margaret to smile.
“I wish I knew what the right thing to do was.”
Lucy Raybourne joined them, ending the discussion.
“You remember Mrs. Raybourne, don’t you?” Margaret asked.
“I do, indeed,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Lovely to see you again.”
Lucy Raybourne was a dark-haired beauty with a bright if shy smile and a kind word for everyone. She’d met her husband at her cousin’s Christmas house party where he’d fallen in love with her under the mistletoe. Or so went his version of the story.
“And you, Lady Charlotte,” Mrs. Raybourne said. “Isn’t this a lovely ball? Did you see the chalk art on the floor?”
One of the reasons Charlotte admired Mrs. Raybourne was her enthusiasm for the good. That was something of which her father didn’t seem capable. How did one go through life with such a dour outlook?
“Good evening, ladies.” Lord Samuelson bowed as he greeted the three of them, taking Charlotte by surprise. Her stomach dropped as she studied his stern countenance.
The ladies curtsied, with Margaret sending a worried glance at Charlotte. Though Charlotte was eager to have the conversation with him done, nerves made thinking difficult.
“Lady Charlotte, may I have the honor of this dance?” He held out his hand, both anticipating her answer and annoying her.
“Of course.” She placed her hand in his and gave Margaret a nervous smile as they left the two ladies to walk to the dance floor.
“How does this evening find you?” he asked, the drawl to his tone irritating.
“Fine. Thank you. And you?” The exchange seemed ridiculous when he didn’t truly care about her answer. She shook off the unhelpful thoughts as they joined the other dancers for a reel.
The distraction of the lively dance eased her anxiousness but didn’t inspire her as to what she should say.
“Is something amiss?” Lord Samuelson asked as the music drew to a close.
This was the perfect opening, and she had to seize it. She drew a breath and held tight to the image of James. “Actually, yes.” She looked up at the lord. “I need to speak with you for a moment. Privately.”
“Oh?” He frowned as if puzzled by what she could possibly have to say.
The notion irritated her further and bolstered her courage. “Why don't we step outside for a moment?”
His lips tightened, a gesture that reminded her far too much of her father and confirmed she was doing the right thing.
The terrace doors that graced one wall of the ballroom stood open. The area outside was edged with torches and well lit. She could see another couple speaking outside. Surely that made it safe for them to do the same.
She led the way onto the terrace and drew in the cool evening air. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in a compromising situation, so she halted close to the doors where they were visible by those inside and turned to face him.
“I have had considerable time to think, and I have come to the realization that we would not suit. I'm sure you've noticed that we have little in common.” The blunt truth felt as if it were her only option.
Lord Samuelson scowled. “Why do we need anything in common?”
She could only blink at his ridiculous question. “A husband and wife would benefit from having common interests, don't you think?”
“Not necessarily,” he replied with a shake of his head. “It's not as if this is a love match.”
“Obviously. However, I have no interest in a marriage of convenience. I'm n
ot certain what arrangements you and my father have made, but I don’t wish to marry you.” There. She’d said it plainly, and there could be no misunderstanding of her meaning.
“What does Lord Wynn have to say about this?”
Heat stung her cheeks. “I have not yet told him, but I will. First, I wanted to make it clear to you that I am not interested in continuing this courtship.”
He stiffened, much to her surprise. Had she hurt his pride? “Arrangements have already been made. You know not of what you speak.”
“What arrangements would those be?” Why couldn't the man accept what she said and take his leave?
“Obviously, your father hasn't told you the truth. He owes me a rather significant sum. A few hands of cards that did not go his way. I have offered to forgive the debt in exchange for your hand in marriage.”
A forgiven debt? That was all she was worth? Outrage speared through her, along with hurt. Why should she lose a chance for a happy future just because her father lost a game of cards?
“You don't even like me,” she protested, a terrible numbness spreading over her skin. “Why would you suggest such an arrangement?”
He shrugged. “You are not as quiet and biddable as I hoped, but your beauty helps to offset your tendency to speak your mind.”
“I am sorry my father owes you money. However, I will not be traded for a debt.”
The other couple gave them an odd look, making Charlotte realize how loudly she’d spoken.
“This is all very unsettling,” the lord said as he watched the couple move inside. “I will need to speak with your father.”
“As will I.” She could only hope it wouldn’t result in her riding in a coach to Wales.
“You are making a terrible mistake by interfering with our agreement.” Then with a tip of his head, he turned on his heel and stalked inside, cutting his way through the crowd toward the door, drawing attention and stares as he went.
Charlotte pressed a gloved finger to her temple and drew a deep breath. That had gone even worse than she feared. Learning the true reason behind her father's determination to see her married to Lord Samuelson was both a relief and a worry. She now understood it, but how on earth could she solve it?
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