Page 55 of A Lady's Wager
“I am not above bribery.”
They smiled broadly as they continued along the park path.
But Louisa’s expression turned somber after a moment. “If your father does decide it is time for you to make a match, do you suppose he will choose someone who will still allow you to come visit me?”
Charlotte assumed a determined posture. “I am not entirely helpless in this. I can discourage and encourage where needed. Anyone who would refuse to allow me a jaunt to Sussex will find himself with decreasing opportunities to make an impression on my father.”
“It is a shame you cannot be permitted to simply enjoy the remainder of your Season.”
“Oh, I intend to enjoy it,” Charlotte said. “After three and a half Seasons, I know what to expect and how to make the best of it. Predictability is a useful thing.”
“And if something drastically unexpected happens?” Louisa pressed.
“‘Drastically unexpected’?” Charlotte laughed once more. “I am expecting a perfectly pleasant and perhaps even slightly boring remainder of the Season. And that, my friend, is perfectly fine with me.”
CHARLOTTE WAS EXCESSIVELY FOND OFa musical evening. To spend an evening listening to those who had great skill on various instruments was a joy indeed. Unfortunately, Louisa would not be present at the gathering held the evening after their discussion in St. James’s Park. The Selbys were a family of good standing, but the Bowens, who were hosting the musicale, were rather particular about whom they invited to their gatherings. It wasn’t so much that they were arrogant or looked down on people who hadn’t quite their social cachet, though that did factor a little into their decisions. The Bowens preferred their musical evenings be very small and intimate, and that narrowed their guest lists significantly.
It was, in terms of social standing, a point in Mr. Vernon’s favor that he was amongst those invited to that evening’s gathering. His inclusion would help Charlotte’s father think more highly of him.
It was on her father’s arm that she entered the grand music room at the Bowens’ London home. Charlotte’s mother had died many years earlier and her grandmother almost never came to Town. Her aunt, as far as she knew, had disliked London when she was a younger lady and there was absolutely no mistakingthat she disliked it now. As such, it fell to Charlotte to undertake the role of the lady of their family in public. She had been trained from a young age to carry herself with dignity and to accept the drudgery that often accompanied this role but also to understand the importance of it. Not everything in life was fun, and not every obligation was a joy to fulfill. But she deeply liked her father, and having known a great many young ladies whose fathers did not treat them as kindly as hers, she thought herself quite fortunate.
They were greeted very warmly. Everyone employed a tone of sincere pleasure when in company with the Earl of Tarrant and Lady Charlotte Duchamps. There’d been a shift in that perception in the past three years. During her first Season, she had been appreciated only for her familial connections. Now, well into her fourth Season, she felt she was liked and respected and valued and welcomed for herself and considered to be a good addition to an evening’s gathering.
Amongst those they paused to exchange words of greeting with were people of her father’s generation and acquaintance as well as her own. There were a few gentlemen in the ranks that she did not wish her father to think too closely on the possibility of a connection with.
Her first Season had been one of both nervousness and joyousness. Father had not been anxious for an immediate match, so she’d been permitted to simply find her place in Society and make new friends and acquaintances. As she’d embarked on each successive Season, she’d had to temper her enjoyment with strategy. She did so again now.
Whenever her father would appear to be on the cusp of being pulled into a conversation with someone she didn’t particularly wish to remain overly long in his thoughts, she would have to find a means of redirecting him without giving offense.
Much to her relief, that evening’s navigations proved rather simple. She led her father away from Sir Duncan before conversation of any kind could occur. She offered an, “Oh, there is my dear friend, I must go speak with her,” after a few words of greeting to Mr. Casper. No one would guess she was avoiding interactions as much as seeking them out. And when their circuit of the room brought them to Mr. Vernon, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could relax for a moment.
“I had hoped to see you here this evening,” Father said once the expected words of greeting were exchanged.
“Were you?” Mr. Vernon echoed the very question that arose in Charlotte’s mind. Perhaps her father had taken more of a liking to him than she’d realized.
“You told me at the soirée last evening that you had recently readThe Delicate Distressand enjoyed it. I wanted to tell you that I found a copy of the first volume at the lending library, and I mean to begin it when I have the opportunity to do so.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Mr. Vernon said. “A good book is an enjoyable thing.”
“It is, indeed,” her father said.
“Indeed,” Mr. Vernon echoed. He turned to Charlotte. “Have you read anything you have enjoyed lately, Lady Charlotte?”
“I have read a great many things over the past weeks and months. London has such a large selection of books.”
“It does indeed,” her father said.
“Indeed,” Mr. Vernon repeated.
Conversations with Mr. Vernon often went this way. Discussions of perfectly acceptable topics consisting mostly of statements few people would disagree with, then expressions of agreement with those statements.
She would not be kept on the edge of her seat in her interactions with him in the years to come, should her fatherselect Mr. Vernon to be his future son-in-law, but time spent with him was at least easy and basically pleasant.
Mr. Vernon had an understanding of music and could carry a decent conversation on the topic. It was one of the things she actively liked about him. One could make peace with a marriage if one at least did not dislike one’s spouse. But if there was something, anything, which a person truly liked in their intended, that was a reason for celebration.
It was in the midst of that thought that another gentleman arrived. She knew him, but only vaguely. They were what would be termed “bowing acquaintances.” He was Lord Wesley, only a few years her senior and a baron. He was not known to be a rake or a wastrel or any of the other things young ladies were warned about. But there was something about him that made her shockingly aware of him whenever he was nearby. She never felt in danger or threatened in any way; it was more a matter of her heart pounding a bit more than usual and her insides responding by jumbling themselves in an attempt to make room for the pounding.
She knew, for reasons she could not make sense of, that her mind and heart found him intriguing. Her eyes seemed to struggle not to gaze on his slightly unruly hair with fascination. His locks were tied back and powdered, as all gentlemen’s were, but not to the point that one could not tell that his wavy hair was a sumptuous and rich shade of brown. And to her shock, though whenever she did happen to see him, it was generally at a distance, she found herself unable to shake her curiosity about what that thick hair would look like left to hang loose.
