“I had no idea! I feel like a terrible friend.”
Belle clutched Charlotte’s hand. “Please do not. ’Tis something I had to do alone. I know it will be difficult no matter whom I marry, and I needed to be certain I wanted it enough to weather that storm. Turns out, I do.”
“But... not in London?” Charlotte’s lower lip jutted in a pout.
Belle rolled her eyes. “We can visit. Long visits. That pout may work on Puppy”—the nickname for William that Charlotte had made the mistake of sharing with her—“but not on me.”
Her friend giggled. “If you promise. Lots of long visits, please.”
“Right, then. Here’s the rest...” She told her of Bessie passing Luke to her for rehabilitation and her discovery that he was the son of a former benefactor. Not just any man, either—the one she’d nearly stayed with, marriage or no, with whom she’d been half in love.
“Let me see if I understand,” Charlotte replied after the litany. “History aside, you find Luke attractive, compatible, caring, and amenable to marriage and children.”
Belle shot her a withering look.
“Shall we address your concerns?” Charlotte ticked a finger. “An age difference. ’Tis rather hypocritical of you to cite that after all your encouragement that I ignore it.”
“There is not a class difference for you and William.”
“We’ll get to that. I’m dismissing the disparity in age.”
Belle crossed her arms, more than a little fearful of what else her friend would refute.
“You’ve been in love with someone before him.” When Belle opened her mouth to dispute that, she hurried to add, “Or close enough to consider spending your life with that person.”
“That person being hisfather.”
“Seems a close enough parallel to Charles and me.” Charlotte referenced her first husband, who had died suddenly a year before she met William. “Charles was old enough that he could have been William’s father in another realm of reality. He was very supportive of me and my strengths, even when they were not traditional pastimes for a woman. He also would have wanted me to find happiness.”
“You know you are oversimplifying this.” Belle glared at her.
Charlotte grinned, then mock-glared back at her friend. “You know you are over-complicating this. Look, many people fall in love before they find their happily ever after. It does not sound as though Luke and his father have a close familial relationship now. So you would not break any bonds, even if the earl does not accept you as a match for his son. On the other hand, why would he not? If he cares for both of you and he is as kind as you say he is, he’d want you both to be happy.”
Her greatest fear was that Luke would regret marrying her for a myriad of reasons. Estrangement from his father was only one of them. But she wasn’t ready to state that out loud. “What if he rejects it out of hand and demands Luke marry someone else?”
Charlotte twisted her lips. “That is between them. William told me Luke was planning to go home to hash it out with his father. He knows there is a risk he’ll walk away without the earl’s blessing for any of it.”
“I want him to succeed. I know there is some part of the story missing. North was so different with me than how Luke sees him.”
“Then if nothing else, you may be the key to bridging that gap between them. In whatever role you want to go in. Perhaps you take the trip with Luke and see how their conversations go?”
“He has already left.”
Charlotte shrugged. “You can always follow.”
She stifled a shudder, imagining knocking on North’s door and having to tell him she was there to support his son. She had no place as a mediator. They were grown men who had to find their own way.
“But Belle,” her friend’s face was solemn. “None of this addresses the real problem.”
“The class difference.” Belle flattened her lips at the reminder. She was unsuitable, and that would not change.
“No.” Charlotte was shaking her head. “The fact that you do not see yourself as worthy.”
Belle blinked.
“Men marry untitled or lower-titled women all the time for their dowries. Gracious, more and more are marrying the merchant class.” They both gave fake gasps at that and giggled. “You are simply a different kind of merchant. A very successful one.”
Belle snorted. She wished she could think of it that way, but there were too many challenges in the House of Lords, in school for their children, and a myriad of other circumstances.
