Page 7 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
He pulled a letter from his pocket. “I received this yesterday.”
And now Charity began to realize that he might be well and truly in earnest. “Who proposes to a man, and by letter?”
“I too am most confused.” He cleared his throat, then opened the letter with unsteady hands.
My dear Wilfred,
Charity placed a hand on his arm. “That bears a moment of silence.”
“What?” His mouth curved up, just at the edge.
“Your name.” She shook her head. “You may proceed.”
“Thank you. I don’t know why my name is inciting this reaction.”
“Oh just stop. Read on. I apologize.”
My dear Wilfred,
Mother and I were just reminiscing this morning on that lovely afternoon when you and I were standing in the flowering trees. Well I remember the smell of the air with its hint of sweet and earth. And you earnestly declaring yourself. I have awaited anxiously the day when I can join you in London when we can show the world our long-held attachment, when I can at last be in all respects your intended as we once professed under the boughs of that tree. It sits outside my window and I think of you every day on my walks underneath it.
His hand dropped in his lap, letter still clutched. “She goes on, but that is the gist.”
Charity at first did not know what to say. Did Lord Lockhart hold feelings for this woman? What was his declaration? Should she point out what she felt was obvious, that the woman seemed to be stretching the relationship and laying hold of a claim that might not be totally there? She watched his emotionless expression, uncertain what to say.
“For two years I’ve considered she and I a young flirtation, a time of great happiness between youths; at times I’ve even wondered what might occur between us. We did share expressions of the most amorous kind, as youth might when caught up in things. Neither were out in society. Neither of us anything but youth barely out of the school room. And I have felt some sense of responsibility toward her, to clear things before moving on, so to speak.” His eyes flitted to Charity and back.
“But now. What am I to think? That I have inadvertently proposed to the girl?” He closed his eyes and for the first time, Charity noticed the pain that rested in their depths.
“Lord Lockhart, I hardly think—”
“And it doesn’t signify does it, because if she’s spoken of this? If there is an understanding? Won’t she be quite ruined if I back away?”
Charity began to shake her head but then stopped. She didn’t know. She was not privy to all the rules of ruination in the ton. She found half of them ridiculous.
“And so, that is why I feel unable to do much of anything to further my own happiness.” The eyes he turned to her were full of hurt, sorrow, regret.
“But can you not simply reply with a brief, to the point letter explaining you are not under the same understanding as she?”
He turned away. “I do not know what to do. I have no one to advise me.”
“And what about me? Am I not advising you now?”
“Of course.” He placed a hand over hers. “But as you’ve said, you know as little as I about such things.”
“Perhaps Gerald, or Morley.” Both men in her life, a duke and an earl who had been her constant advisors. “Or the Duke of York. He has proven to be remarkably forward thinking.”
“And do I need forward thinking? What if she is well and truly without recourse? We have been friends. We did in fact share a young relationship of sorts.” He sighed.
“And this is why you did not ask me to dance?”
His gaze flickered to hers, in surprise. “I should never expect you to merely keep things unspoken.”
“Of course not. What would be the point in that?”
“I don’t know, to ease the way for others.”
“Is this a difficult conversation? Is it not easier to simply say the truth and be done with it?”
