Page 64 of A Lady's Wager
He needed to be very careful.
Their turn to alight and enter the theater arrived. They stepped inside to find it already overflowing with attendees. The corridor wrapped around, connecting the various boxes of the well-to-dos and upper class, and surged with silks and scented hair powder. The ladies’ dresses were, thankfully, not as wide as they were at court, allowing for slightly more ease when walking more than one abreast. Julian told himself he wasn’t watching for anyone in particular, but he knew his eyes were searching for Lady Charlotte.
He also told himself he would simply keep a distance should he see her, but the moment he did, his feet took him directly to her.
Julian and Franklin offered elegant bows, which were returned with a curtsy on her part and a bow from her father.
“A pleasure to see you again, Lord Wesley,” Lady Charlotte said. “And a pleasure to see you, Mr. Daubney.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Julian answered, one of those rare moments at Society gatherings when the commonplace response was deeply meant.
Lord Tarrant eyed him with a narrowed gaze, his mouth pulled a bit tight.
“I do not mean to impose on your evening’s enjoyment,” Julian said to them both. “I know, were my father here, I would appreciate being able to enjoy his company without disruption.”
The earl spoke for the first time. “Your father was not the sort that most people longed to keep company with.”
“Father,” Lady Charlotte whispered sharply. “That is not a kind thing to say.”
“I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Lady Charlotte,” Julian said. “I also must acknowledge your father’s not wrong. But though there is much that I disapproved of in my late father’s behavior, he was my father. A son is permitted to love his father even after knowing the person he was. Having lost him so young, I do envy those children who have time with their parents, however flawed, however frustrating, however much sorrow existed in their relationship. I know that my father deserves the unkind words that have been spoken of him, but I will say this one thing: he would never have begrudged anyone a moment for grieving a parent. He had a good enough heart for that.” Julian sketched a quick bow to the earl, another to Lady Charlotte, then took a step to leave.
A soft and gentle hand on his arm stopped him. He glanced up to see Lady Charlotte taking a step closer. It was her kind touch that had halted his departure. “Please do not leave angry,” she said softly.
“I am not angry with you, Lady Charlotte,” he said. “I suspect I could never be.”
The tiniest tilt of her lips accompanied her next question. “Is that a challenge, Lord Wesley?”
“Would you like it to be?”
She raised a single shoulder, her head dipping in that direction. It was so coy and playful a shrug. He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face, despite the rather insulting conversation he’d only just endured from her father.
“If we issue a challenge,” he said, “I would rather it not be whether or not you could make me angry, but how pleased I can make you.”
“That is a challenge I will happily accept. But be warned, I would then be on my guard and choose to not be amused by anything you might say.”
Oh, she was delightful.
He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her gloved fingertips. It was a fairly commonplace gesture, one employed between gentlemen and ladies, which could ultimately be either a show of affection or of absolutely no significance at all.
But as he reluctantly released her hand, he knew that simple kiss was, for him, neither a token of mere affection nor insignificant. His heart pounded, his mind spun, and hope bubbled around the possibility of her company. His hand remained warm, tingling where his fingers had touched hers.
He wasn’t merely walking on thin ice; he had fallen through.
WHEN NOT PARTICIPATING IN THEsocial whirl, Charlotte found herself particularly fond of visiting the circulating library to which her family had a subscription. Books were a wonderful way to pass a quiet afternoon—something she was grateful her father appreciated as well, as it meant she was granted both access to books and time in which to enjoy them.
Two days after their most recent venture to the theater, she and her father made the short journey to the circulating library to select new volumes for their enjoyment. They made their way along one of the rows of books, at the end of which was a gathering of chairs placed at a cozy distance from a low-burning fire. The proprietor of this particular library took pride in creating a place where his patrons would linger.
Father found a volume that captured his interest, and Charlotte followed him to the chairs and the warm fireside to see him seated, meaning to search out a volume of her own once he was comfortable. But her father asked her to sit beside him.
“You are nearing the end of your fourth Season,” he said.
She nodded, suspecting with a drop of her heart that she knew where this conversation was headed.
“I believe it is time you were settled and beginning the next chapter of your life.”
Even anticipating the topic, she was still a little surprised. And unexpectedly nervous.
“Have you made arrangements already?” she asked.
