Page 56 of A Lady's Wager
Charlotte was fully aware that she was attracted to him. But she also knew enough of the world to realize that such a thing was rather ill-advised. Very few ladies were permitted much of a say in the choice of their future spouse, so it was best to keepone’s heart whole and one’s mind focused in more probable and sensible directions.
But there he was, with his distracting hair and a hint of bergamot wafting in the air around him, reminding her that he stood nearby.
“Forgive the interruption,” he said after a quickly sketched bow to all of them. “I fear Lady Charlotte may have dropped her handkerchief, and I wish to return it to her before she finds herself in need of it.” There was both kindness and a roguish twinkle in his deep-brown eyes, which, when combined with his fascinating hair, seemed to her a terribly unfair combination when one was attempting to keep one’s head.
“I did not realize I had dropped it,” Charlotte said. “I thank you.”
She held out her hand. As if his eyes and hair and alluring scent weren’t enough, the light brush of his fingers on her hand as he placed her handkerchief there, even through both their gloves, sent a shiver through her. Ladies of her station in life were told from childhood that marriage was a matter of business, yet gentlemen had the ability to upend them like this. It was yet another utterly unfair combination.
In an attempt to regain her composure, Charlotte dropped her eyes to her handkerchief. The shift in focus provided not only a distraction but also a new topic of conversation. “Please do not think that this will diminish my appreciation of your kindness, Lord Wesley, but this is not my handkerchief.”
“Is it not?” He glanced at it himself. “I do believe those are your initials. That is, in fact, the reason I assumed it to be yours.” He did not move to retrieve the handkerchief but did begin glancing about the room. “I can think of no one else here who shares your initials.”
“True though that may be,” she said, “it is still not mine.”
“We had best all do what we can to find someone else who would embroider a handkerchief with a C and D.”
But he did not go in search of such a person. He simply stood where he was, looking quite comfortable, while at the same time, somehow, making things a bit awkward.
“The evening promises to be a fine one,” Mr. Vernon said. “The Bowens always arrange for the most talented of performers.”
“They do indeed,” Papa said.
“Indeed,” Mr. Vernon added.
“Indeed,” Lord Wesley repeated with emphasis. “I hope you will let us hover around your chair, Lady Charlotte. A great many of the gentlemen will be standing, and it is far more pleasant to be standing near someone one already knows.”
Lord Wesley knew Charlotte but not overly well, which made his declaration both accurate and inaccurate. Mr. Vernon also didn’t seem to know quite what to think. The four of them stood about in slightly uncomfortable silence. This was not likely helping Mr. Vernon make a positive impression on Charlotte’s father. She knew he was not an ideal choice, but he was a good one. Perhaps there would be time at the interval or after the evening’s performance was concluded for the guests to mingle.
Utilizing her skills for navigating away from uncomfortable situations, Charlotte offered a little bit of a curtsy to Lord Wesley before turning her attention to her father and Mr. Vernon. “I do believe the evening is set to begin soon enough. We ought to find a place to sit.”
Before either of the gentlemen to whom she actually addressed the question could answer, Lord Wesley said, “Excellent suggestion, Lady Charlotte.” Then he walked alongside them as they sought a place to sit.
In the end, they were situated with Charlotte seated and her father in the chair next to hers. Mr. Vernon stood to one sideand Lord Wesley to the other directly behind her. It was not an unusual arrangement. Truth be told, it was quite unexceptional. Charlotte’s only objection was that this arrangement would make it difficult for her to facilitate a direct conversation between her father and Mr. Vernon. Was it truly so much to ask that if she were required to accept an arranged marriage, then she might have some ability to influence the arrangement?
A soprano the Bowens had arranged to perform for the evening began the offering. She was remarkably talented, her voice rich and clear, and her presence as she performed was dramatic without being overpowering. A person could simply relax and enjoy. Or a person might, if she did not have Lord Wesley standing so nearby, smelling wonderful.
As the gathering applauded the end of the first selection, Mr. Vernon leaned forward a bit, enough to offer a quiet comment near Charlotte’s ear. “How lovely it is to hear an Italian aria performed by an Italian speaker. The pronunciation is so much more precise.”
“I especially liked the way she pronouncedlanguisce,” Lord Wesley said, leaning forward enough to whisper into her other ear. “Languisce.” He repeated the word a couple of times, his pronunciation a bit too precise.
“These settings offer such a nice alternative to hearing the same pieces that one hears performed in the large concert halls,” Mr. Vernon observed.
“Languisce,” Lord Wesley repeated again with the same ridiculous emphasis on every syllable.
Mr. Vernon looked confused, and well he might be. Charlotte felt a little confused herself. She didn’t think Lord Wesley was actually so inept at social interactions. Either he was acting the part of being rude or … perhaps had indulged a bit too much in the offered beverages. The best way she could think of to describe his presence in that moment was awkward.
One glance at her father told her he was feeling the same thing. He shifted a bit on his chair, his brows pulled in uncertainty. This was not how she’d expected the night to go. Not terrible, not horrendous, just not what she’d expected.
“Do you suppose the entire evening will feature selections in Italian?” Mr. Vernon asked.
“Possibly,” Lady Charlotte said. “Though I suspect she can perform in many languages.”
“Languisce.” And for reasons Charlotte could not begin to explain, she found herself struggling not to laugh.
As the evening wore on, it was all she could do not to toss the word out herself in the same ridiculous way, though he eventually stopped doing so himself. He offered comments now and then and always seemed to be hovering about, but her impression of him being mostly harmless did not change. He was handsome and likely could have been remarkably rakish if he’d chosen to be. But overall, he was acting odd, a bit lacking in the social graces, which was not the impression she’d ever had of him in the past.
Mr. Vernon, who had also remained stalwartly at her side, offered his farewells after the evening’s performances had ended.
