“Oh, that is all part of…” She tailed off. Part of the Alvan-Dunstan war about which neither she nor Thomasina knew the full history.
From her euphoria of only an hour ago, her emotions had plummeted. Her beautiful evening had grown grubby, her friendship false and misunderstood, by Alvan as well as by her. Thomasina was right. She had ruined everything.
“Not for you, Tommie,” she said incoherently, springing up from the bed and hurrying toward the door. “It is not ruined for you. He laughs at me, that is all. Nothing has changed, but I’m sorry I upset you.”
Somehow, she got out of the room, rushing blindly toward her own. The tears were already dripping off her face and onto her gown by the time she threw herself onto her bed and buried her sobs in the pillow.
*
By morning, she had herself better in hand, resolved to face everyone with her usual friendliness. A word of explanation of her conduct was probably due to Alvan. In the cold light of day and with the memory of Thomasina’s distress, she had to acknowledge that she barely knew the duke, that what she had taken for friendship or affinity, was something else entirely that she would never understand. But she could reassure him of Thomasina’s perfect behavior at all times. If he doubted her. Try as she would, she could not imagine he would be so hypocritical, but the world’s peculiar proprieties had always been a mystery to her.
Squaring her shoulders, she set off to the breakfast room, allowing Spring to scamper downstairs in front of her. She meant to let him out into the fenced kitchen garden on the way, but he dived into the library. When she called to him, it was Alvan who appeared in the doorway.
In spite of all her resolutions, her heart lurched.
“Charlotte,” he said. “May I have a word?”
Unsure what to expect, Charlotte dragged her heels, but his manner seemed perfectly normal, neither cold nor over-friendly, as he wished her good morning and bent to scratch the dog’s ear. Perhaps she had not been so wrong after all.
“I hope you slept well and are none the worse for our adventure last night,” he added.
“Oh yes,” she lied. “I slept extremely well, as I trust did your grace.”
“Are you ‘gracing’ me again? I thought we were better friends.”
She looked away. “It isn’t quite appropriate, though. What did you wish to say to me?”
“That I plan to speak to your father today as soon as he is available.”
Until that moment, she hadn’t known one could feel such relief and such pain at the same time. She reached out and grasped the edge of the table for support while she managed to smile. “I am so glad.”
Only as his eyes lit up and his shoulders sank infinitesimally did she realize that he, too, had been tense and unsure of this meeting. “Then you are willing?”
She blinked. “Willing? For what?”
His brow twitched. “To marry me.”
Her jaw dropped. “Me? Me? No, no, that is not right.”
A breath of laughter seemed to shake him even as a hint of frustration touched his eyes. “I assure you, it is.”
“But it isn’t,” she exclaimed in distress. “You came here to offer for Thomasina, or at least, that is what we all believed—”
“I confess that is what I intended, but that was before I met you.”
And then she understood that Thomasina had been at least partly right. She was not so unmarriageable that she was above the laws governing young ladies’ behavior, and she had forced the duke’s hand by insisting he take her on that mad gallop after the thieves. For two hours or more, they had been alone in the dark together.
“Oh, you are kind,” she said brokenly. “You are thinking of last night and what it might mean for us, but I assure you, no one but the Laceys and my own family is aware of it. You do not need to avert my ruin.” Surreptitiously, she dashed her hand across her eyes.
“I know,” he said mildly. “But all the same, I ask you to be my wife.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes to his face. He stood only a foot or so away from her, tall, handsome, and very still. Just for a moment she allowed herself to imagine how it would be between them, to be his wife and live with him in fun and friendship, with those wild, exciting kisses and more. Much more.
She closed her eyes and banished the foolish dream, for that was all it was or could ever be. “I thank you for the honor, but you must know I cannot.”
There was a pause. “I know no such thing,” he said at last.
“I’m sorry, I never learned how to refuse an offer of marriage properly. It was never something we anticipated.”
“Charlie!” Again, amusement and frustration filled his voice and he took a step nearer her.
Hastily, she stepped back. “It isn’t necessary, you owe me nothing and I could not do this to my sister, not for the world. If you wish to oblige my family, please address her instead.”
And with that, she bolted from the room.
She didn’t let Spring into the kitchen garden after all. She took him for a long walk in the woods.
*
Returning to the house before luncheon, she was thoroughly prepared to smile and congratulate the happy couple. However, it seemed everyone but Alvan and herself had slept in and luncheon was the first family gathering of the day.
Charlotte avoided looking at Alvan, but otherwise contrived to behave as normally as possible. Henrietta and Thomasina were chattering about lace.
When they paused, Alvan said civilly, “I must thank you, Lady Overton—indeed I must thank your whole family—for a most delightful week at Audley Park. I had meant to stay until tomorrow, as you know, but I find urgent business compels me to make a start today. I hope this does not inconvenience you.”
That he would soon be gone pierced Charlotte’s heart, allowing her a hint of future pain and emptiness. Fortunately, her parents were making all the right, dismayed noises and keeping his attention away from her.
She wondered if he had already spoken to her father, if he would make Thomasina an offer before he left… or would he consider that bad taste so soon after offering for her? Even though that had been in secret.
“We shall all be sorry to see you go,” Thomasina said gaily, “but I’m so glad you will be able to wish me happy before you leave.”
Wish me happy, Charlotte thought blankly. Surely that was something one only said to people about to be married?
Alvan’s gaze was drawn inevitably to Thomasina, so he missed her parents’ stunned, not to say, flabbergasted expressions.
Charlotte stared at her sister in wonder. Wild hope surged up and over her grief. Was there a way for her to be happy, after all?
“I most certainly wish you happy,” Alvan said. “Do I know the fortunate man who has won you?”
“Oh, yes. Of course, it is not official yet, for he has not yet spoken to Papa, but Lord Dunstan offered for me last night and I have almost decided to accept him!”
A crack of laughter broke from Alvan, somehow more shocking than all the rest. “Forgive me,” he said, sobering almost at once. “What excellent news. I shall congratulate him effusively when next I write to him.”
The rest of luncheon passed in a blur for Charlotte. Thomasina and Henrietta chattered away, although about what, she could not have said. She was in an agony of not knowing when Alvan excused himself from the table early on the grounds of preparing to depart, and she had to exert all her self-control not to run after him, shouting, Ask me again!
She tried to remind herself that whatever Thomasina did changed nothing for her, that Alvan had still asked her out of his sense of responsibility because of last night’s silly adventure. She could not bear to marry for such a reason… she was still unmarriageable. Everyone knew that…
“What the devil?” Papa growled as soon as the door closed behind the duke. “If you imagine you are throwing yourself away on a man who is merely comfortable—”
“Of course I imagine no such thing,” Thomasina whisper
ed. Tears coursed down her cheeks, carrying Charlotte’s last silly hopes with them. “I was lying to make him jealous, so that he would finally propose. But all I have done is drive him away utterly and I cannot even blame this one on Charlotte. Oh, Mama, I am so sorry! What am I to do?”
“Oh, don’t upset yourself,” Papa said wearily while Mama embraced Thomasina. “You’ve just overplayed your hand but all is not lost. I shall merely explain that I have no intention of countenancing such a match and that you will obey me.”
“Oh, don’t, Papa!” Thomasina exclaimed. “He would know at once what I had been about and only think of the humiliation! I could not bear it.”
Poor Tommie, Charlotte thought sadly. Unknowingly, she had solved the duke’s dilemma for him, removing any need to offer for one sister after being rejected by the other. No wonder he had laughed.
After that, his departure happened very quickly. The children and Spring all came out with the rest of the family and waved him off as he climbed into his carriage and rolled out of their lives as fast as he had rolled in.
Chapter Thirteen
It was generally considered that Thomasina had had her chance and failed. Now, it was up to Henrietta to save the family, so Lady Overton, who had been putting London off until Thomasina was settled, began arrangements to take Henrietta to the capital for her official debut.
Charlotte kept the duke’s proposal to herself. Occasionally, she felt guilty about letting the family suffer longer when a simple yes to Alvan would have bailed them out financially almost at once. But it had been wrong on so many levels.
Likewise, she made sure no one ever guessed how much she missed him. Only alone at night in the dark did she admit that she had fallen in love with the duke. There was a perverse pleasure in the admission, in the tears she shed in secret. But during the day, she went about her life as usual, helping Henrietta prepare for London and the boys for their return to school, trying to distract Thomasina from her humiliating loss and her father from his financial woes.
After the nine-day wonder of the foiling of the big robbery at Seldon Manor, the neighborhood returned to its usual tranquility. Mrs. Lacey’s fashionable London guests vanished almost immediately after the party. A day later, Charlotte heard that Lord Dunstan and Mr. Cornell had also departed. At the end of the week, Mrs. Lacey took Almeria to Brighton—to get over her disappointment, it was generally assumed since neither Lord Dunstan nor Cornell had offered for her in the end.
Charlotte had hoped fellow feeling might cheer Thomasina a little, but Tommie still seemed lost in guilt for failing to save the family.
The day after their mother and Henrietta left for London, Charlotte bundled the boys and Nurse into the old coach and travelled with them back to school. Even Horatio seemed relieved to go, for things felt a trifle fraught at home since the duke’s departure. Worse, the boys had taken a shine to him and felt rather peeved that Thomasina hadn’t brought him up to scratch. George in particular bemoaned the loss of Alvan’s horses and suggested he marry Henrie instead, none of which helped with the tension in the house.
Charlotte hugged the boys goodbye and sent them into school. Then John Coachman turned around and drove her and Nurse back toward Audley Park. On impulse, since they were making good time, Charlotte asked John to stop off at the Hart Inn for an early tea.
Mr. and Mrs. Villin welcomed her with every appearance of pleasure. “There’s two gentlemen has the private parlor, Miss,” Mrs. Villin said, “but if you’ll condescend to the coffee room, there’s only two ladies in there, already.”
“The coffee room will be fine,” Charlotte assured her.
The ladies already ensconced, bowed politely at Charlotte’s entry and she returned the civility. One was around her own age, dark and very pretty in a dramatic kind of way. The other, whom the younger addressed as “Aunt,” was a stern looking lady of middle years, very thin and upright. The two appeared to be in the midst of a spirited discussion when Charlotte entered and returned to it again more quietly as Charlotte and Nurse seated themselves at the table farthest away.
“I disagree,” the elder lady said crossly. “There is no reason to call on strangers uninvited. Most especially, when you have no idea where they live!”
“Oh, that matter is easily remedied,” the younger replied as she rose and walked across the room to Charlotte. “Your pardon, madam, I wonder if you might help us?”
“Of course, if I can,” Charlotte said at once.
“Do you live in this area?”
“A couple of hours from here, at Audley… Park, so I know it quite well,”
“Audley Park?” the young lady repeated, gazing at her more closely. “But then… what a coincidence that would be. Are you by chance Miss Maybury?”
“No, that is my sister. I’m Charlotte May… bury.”
“Why that is just as good,” the young lady exclaimed, apparently delighted. “I am Cecily Moore. I believe my brother visited you recently.”
Charlotte flushed to the roots of her hair. This was the duke’s sister? The girl whom Dunstan had been refused permission to marry and so begun the enmity between them. “Why yes, we had that pleasure…”
Although the young lady did not stare, Charlotte was sure nothing about her reaction was unobserved. Lady Cecily had very direct, sharp eyes.
“I have been arguing with my aunt.” Lady Cecily confided, “about whether or not it would be proper for us to call on your family in passing. Neither of us have met Lady Overton, you see, but I am always curious about my brother’s friends.”
“You would… be most welcome,” Charlotte said faintly. Unease made it harder to control her stammer. “Though I’m afraid my mother is away in London.”
“Then Alvan is no longer with you?”
“Oh no, he left nearly a fortnight ago.”
“I thought it would be too good to be true to find him here! Never mind, I am very glad to make your acquaintance at least. Would you care to join us?”
Part of Charlotte wanted nothing to do with anyone of the duke’s family, but good manners as well as curiosity ensured that she did indeed move tables, leaving Nurse happily sewing where she was.
“Allow me to present you to my aunt. Aunt, this is Miss Charlotte Maybury, one of Lord Overton’s daughters. Lady Barnaby, who had the doubtful pleasure of bringing me up—and out! And who is still stuck with me.”
Charlotte and Lady Barnaby exchanged civil greetings. Charlotte sat just as Mrs. Villin and Lily brought in tea and beamed to see all the ladies sitting together.
In the end, they enjoyed a pleasant half hour, for although Lady Cecily had clearly expected to hear that her brother was engaged to Thomasina, she asked no more questions on the subject. Instead, her easy manners and humorous chat quickly put Charlotte at ease. Lady Barnaby turned out to be not nearly as stern as she looked, but on the contrary, as witty as her niece.
“We are on our way from Bath to London,” Lady Cecily confided, “and using the opportunity to visit several of Aunt’s friends. I have been quite beset by old ladies, whist and pugs. Do you have a pug, Miss Charlotte?”
“Sadly, no.”
“There, I knew I liked you.”
“But I do have a mongrel terrier who is almost totally unmanageable and yet believes that he is a house dog.”
“Does he snort?”
“No, he doesn’t snort,” Charlotte allowed.
“Then I would love him. It’s the snorting I hate.”
“You are a very intolerant girl,” Lady Barnaby said mildly. “The pugs all loved you.”
“They sat on my knee and snorted. Miss Charlotte’s dog would not sit on my knee and snort!”
“No, he would bounce from your knee to your shoulder and lick your face while barking. Trust me, he puts the snorting pugs to shame.”
Lady Cecily laughed. “Did he do so to my brother?” she asked, intrigued.
“Only when his grace let him.”
“Alvan likes animals,
” Cecily observed. “Better than people, I suspect.”
And because she couldn’t help it, Charlotte said, “Why is that?”
Cecily shrugged. “Too many toadies and self-servers who sought friendship with him merely to use his position or wealth for their own ends. They swamped him, even at school, so now he expects nothing else and lumps us all in the same category.”
In her mind’s eye, Charlotte glimpsed a proud, lonely boy, hurt and disillusioned, who made her heart ache all over again. She said faintly, “Surely not you?”
“Oh, yes, for I too am dependent on him for pin money and decisions about my life—such as who I will marry.”
“Do you want to marry someone?” Charlotte asked before she remembered the story of the duke refusing Dunstan permission to marry her.
“No,” Cecily admitted. “But I might!”
“Cecily is most exacting about her suitors,” Lady Barnaby said with a strange mixture of disapproval and pride.
“Why so one should be, since one is stuck with a husband for the rest of one’s natural life. Don’t you agree, Miss Charlotte?”
“Ideally,” she managed, only too aware of the mercenary nature of her family’s marriage plans.
“I shudder to think of my life if I had married the first man who asked me,” Cecily said. “If for nothing else, I shall always be grateful to Alex for refusing him.”
“You weren’t at the time,” Lady Barnaby said tartly.
“No, I cried for three whole days before I forgot him,” Cecily recalled. “Don’t think harshly of me, Miss Charlotte, I was only fifteen years old.”
“Fifteen?” Charlotte repeated, startled. That put a whole different complexion on Dunstan’s story. But, of course, Dunstan had said he and Alvan had only just come down from Oxford, and Cecily could not have been much more than twenty summers now.
“Didn’t you imagine yourself in love at fifteen?” Cecily asked.
“No.” There had always been dashing and handsome officers around her parents, but they had mooned over Thomasina, not the sick and tongue-tied sister. They became like furniture to her, easily ignored. “I suppose I was interested in other things.”
The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3) Page 13