Page 1 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
Chapter 1
Sometimes, secretly, Miss Charity Standish wished she could be like everyone else.
She sat in front of a small mirror while her maid, Lily, pinned extra jewels in her hair, gifts from the Duchess of York, who waited downstairs for her so they could attend the first big ball of this season. Typically, Charity would have balked at such an extravagance and such an obvious attempt to shop her womanly wiles around the ton; but as she turned her red locks this way and that, she couldn’t resist the pinpoints of light as they reflected off the candles. Was she vain after all? Certainly not. Appreciating the effect did not mean she valued her looks above all else.
After the Duchess of Sussex sponsored Lucy, and things went in a completely different direction for Charity’s sister, and happily so, the Duchess of York determined to outdo her age-old rival, the Duchess of Sussex, and marry Charity off to someone truly renowned.
Charity humored the effort because it gave her another Season in London, access to anyone she would care to know, and the chance to build her reading salons and philanthropist activities. Come to find out, the Duchess of York was a secret bluestocking. She had been for years, since the days it was à la mode to do so.
She studied herself in the mirror, something she rarely took the time to do.
Lily sighed. “I wish you’d notice how stunning you are, miss.” She laughed. “Everyone in the room is going to be watching just to have a look at you.”
For the briefest moment, Charity let her maid’s compliment have its way inside, boosting her vanity, but then she just laughed. “Perhaps I should wear a ‘votes for women’ sign as well then? Use the attention to garner some suffrage support?”
“Perhaps. That would certainly be something, wouldn’t it?”
Charity studied her maid. “Do you think I should take all of this more seriously? Be about the business of getting married?”
Lily made a pretense of touching Charity’s dress here and there before responding. “Now, it’s not my place to say.”
“When have I been a stickler for a person’s place?”
“All the same, I remember my place. But here’s what I think, plain and simple.”
Charity smiled. Lily could rarely resist what she thinks.
“I think there’s a reason you’re so beautiful, and it isn’t just so that you can march around in your intellectual ways, telling all the men what they should think.”
Charity’s eyebrow rose ever higher on her brow.
“I told you it’s not my place.”
“And what is the reason for feminine beauty then? You too are beautiful. And you are not parading about the ton trying to catch a husband.”
“Those opportunities aren’t mine.” She laughed. “As if, the likes of me, parading about as you do.” She shook her head. “I just think that you could keep doing all you do and be happily married while you do it.” She curtseyed. “But that’s all I’ll say about that. You’re ready and looking as beautiful as you ever have, if I do say so.”
“Thank you, Lily. I couldn’t do any of this without you. Nor would I try. If I do marry, it will be all because of your efforts, and that of Her Grace, of course.”
The gown Charity wore sparkled to match her hair. The modiste had been instructed to outdo any other debutante that Season. And she had. Charity was certain of it.
Charity hadn’t been looking forward to such a to-do about her clothing, but when she saw the gowns, she was admittedly pleased. They were beautiful in a manner she had not expected. They made her look strong and feminine at the same time. And she was infused with a new confidence.
She gathered her reticule and a fan to dangle at her wrist. She’d found the fan particularly useful if she wished to pretend not to see someone.
None of her sisters would be present at this ball, and none of her bluestocking friends. She was free to be and do whatever she wished if she liked, and a part of her wondered what it would be like to simply enjoy a ball. Must she always attend with a goal to spread important truths to the influential people in the room? Surely she’d done so enough; at this point, they all understood her standing on most things.
She tapped the fan into her hand. But there was that upcoming bill to consider. Logan, her sister Kate’s husband, had sponsored it, and where they assumed it would pass without problem, a few of the Tories were up in arms.
She stopped her thoughts. Perhaps she would just simply attend the ball sponsored by one of the most influential women in London. If the bill came up, she would offer her opinion.
And Lord Lockhart might be there.
Her insides twisted up in excitable knots at the thought of that handsome and attentive friend. She couldn’t stop the rise of color to her cheeks as she descended.
The Duchess of York stood at the base of the stairs as Charity descended, and the dear woman raised hands to her face. “I am enchanted. You, Charity, have far exceeded evenmyexpectations.” She turned to her husband who had just joined her. “Don’t you think?”
He took a moment to glance her way. Then nodded. “Yes, she will be a credit to your name. Well done, my dear.”
