Page 95 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Chapter 20
Charlotte passed a tray to Mr. Rostham so he could take another tiny, perfect jewel of a fruit tart. She nodded as he continued talking, but she was only half-listening as he rhapsodized over his newly discovered passion for archery, thanks to her and his cousin.
He was her second caller of the day. Lady Tremaine had called earlier, saying that she couldn’t stay long, but that she’d been so relieved to hear of Charlotte’s shopping excursion with her new husband. She’dtoldeveryone it was a newly married couple’s right to have some private time, but she did hope Charlotte would step out a bit in Society now, just to put some of the more bizarre rumors to rest.
Charlotte had agreed and thanked her for her concern, and when Lady Tremaine asked what they had bought on Bond Street, she’d told her they had purchased a waistcoat. She had not told her it had been the one their lying, thief of a former house steward had worn as he ran out of the shop.
Neither did she mention how . . . differently . . . Gabriel had been acting since then.
She’d waited a long time for him in Mr. Timms’ shop. At last, he and Chester had returned, empty handed and despondent. Gabriel had been severely disappointed at Hurley’s escape. He’d barely said a word, driving them home. Still not talking, he’d taken her upstairs and made quiet, passionate love to her. They’d fallen asleep entangled with each other, but she’d awakened later to find him standing at the window, staring out at the street. He’d said only that he couldn’t sleep, but when she awoke this morning, he’d been gone from the house already.
She didn’t think he was angry with her, but she didn’t like the fleeting glimpse of desperation she’d seen behind his eyes, or the fact that he was closing himself off again.
She had to suppress a sigh. They had been doing so well. He’d relaxed his guard and allowed himself a bit of light and laughter, the relief of shared burdens and the buoyancy of shared joy. But old habits died hard. She couldn’t expect him to change overnight.
This silence worried her though. She’d had a niggling sensation that he was still holding back . . . something. She hadn’t a clue what it could be, but she felt it there, hovering just out of reach. Maybe it was just . . . confidence. In her? He’d had only himself and his friends to count on for a very long time. Did he not fully trust her enough to include her in that count, even still?
The thought stung. She didn’t know what else to do, how to prove herself.
“In short, I had been feeling quite good about my newfound skills,” Mr. Rostham declared.
She thrust aside her worries and focused on her guest again. “Good for you, sir.”
“That is, until I went with my sister and her family to an evening at Astley’s Amphitheatre. What do you think I saw there?”
“An archery act?”
“Would that it had been so mundane! Yes, but it was more than that. There she was, a slip of a girl, shooting her bow with unerring accuracy—while she stood on a moving horse’s back!”
“Oh, dear. How lowering.”
“Indeed. It has only strengthened my resolve, however. I shall persevere.”
“Until you can shoot from a galloping horse’s back?”
He made a face. “No. But perhaps I will keep my mount to a walk. And remain seated in the saddle, of course.”
She laughed. “We will be there to cheer you on.”
They talked a few minutes more, before he rose to leave. Charlotte walked him to the door, bid him farewell, then turned to find two housemaids industriously polishing nearby door latches and Eli running a cloth along the stair railing.
Hiding a smile, she headed upstairs. “Eli, when you finish with the spindles on the landing, come along to my sitting room.” She said, loud enough to be heard. “I have some errands for you to run.”
She didn’t wait long before Elizabeth darted in and leaned against the door as she closed it behind her. Grinning, she heaved a long sigh.
“Mr. Rostham is handsome, isn’t he?” Charlotte asked with a return smile.
“Oh, he is! I’d heard the maids say so, but he quite lives up to all of the gushing.” She crossed over and collapsed onto a chair. “Charlotte, is he the sort of man I’ll meet when I make my come-out? The sort I’ll dance with at a ball, dine with, and take drives in the park with?”
“He is, indeed.” Charlotte eyed her askance. “If we can get you back into skirts and teach you to sit properly again.”
“Oh, I’ll be good, never fear. Especially with such inducements.” Her saucy grin faded after a moment. “Was Mr. Rostham one of your suitors?”
She hesitated. “He might have become one, in time.”
Elizabeth sighed. “How romantic.” She took Charlotte’s hand. “But I hope you won’t mind me saying that I am glad you did not marry him. You are so good for Gabriel. I’ve never seen him so happy as he’s been with you.”
Tears welled, but Charlotte blinked them away. “Thank you for saying so. It is very good to hear.”
