Should she tell her aunt now?
Keeping their betrothal a secret for the moment made it feel special, like a delicious secret for just the two of them. Much like all those stolen kisses and more.
“You look equally lovely this evening, Auntie,” she said instead of sharing her news.
It was too soon.
She wanted the secret for just a bit longer.
“Thank you, darling.” Auntie Louise delivered a quick buss to each of her cheeks. “However, it was not praise for my appearance I was searching for. I know all too well that I am the raisin rather than the green grape. No, dearest. What I wanted to know from you is whether or not you have come to an understanding with Lord Wilton.”
“You are hardly a raisin,” she told her aunt, for it was true. Auntie Louise wore her age with grace and inimitable style. And she was most certainly not as ancient as it pleased her to pretend she was.
Auntie Louise waggled her fingers at her. “No attempts at distracting me, if you please. The viscount suggested he would seek you for an audience today. Has he?”
When her aunt was asking her so directly, Charity could not dissemble. “He has.”
Auntie Louise emitted an excited squeal that was quite unlike her, then pressed a hand to her lips to stifle it. “And how have you chosen to answer him, my dear?”
“I have said yes,” she admitted.
Her aunt’s hand went to her heart, and there was no denying the tears glittering in her eyes. “Oh, my darling girl. You are going to be married. I can scarcely credit it.”
She had not expected such a strong reaction from her aunt. “You are happy, then? I will own, I was not sure whether you would be pleased.”
In truth, whilst Neville had told her he had sought out Auntie Louise, he had not related much of her aunt’s response. Auntie Louise was spirited and she loathed rules and propriety every bit as much as Charity did. And there was no denying that Neville was proper and staid—at least, he had been until he had allowed his battlements to fall. Charity liked to think she was responsible for breaking down some of his walls, much as he had chipped away at some of hers.
“I am more than pleased,” Auntie Louise enthused. “I am thrilled. Thrilled? How ineffectual. Heavens, I am overjoyed! I have wanted nothing more than your happiness from the moment you were born. Lord Wilton does make you happy, does he not? I have seen the way the two of you looked at each other, and he reminds me ever so much of your father.”
“Father?” Confusion settled over her, nettling her like the prick of a needle in the thumb when one was attempting needlework. “I hardly think Lord Wilton is like him at all.”
Her father was stern. He would never tell a silly pun. And whenever he looked upon Charity, all she saw reflected in his eyes was grim disapproval. He had scarcely any time for her, already having a daughter and son who pleased him. Charity was a constant source of disappointment. It had been him who had sent her away to Twittingham Academy, after all.
Auntie Louise’s excitement drained away, her smile slipping. “Of course Lord Wilton is not like my brother. Sandrington has not a charming bone in his body.”
There was something strange and heavy in the air. Auntie Louise’s demeanor had changed. The glittering in her eyes had turned into tears, which spilled down her cheeks in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.
“I do not understand,” Charity said, struggling to comprehend the moment, the mood.
It seemed suddenly much larger than her new betrothal.
“I misspoke.” Her aunt attempted a smile as she sniffed, then dashed at her tears with the back of her hand. “That is all. In my excitement, I was not making sense. And oh, how foolish of me. I shall have to return to my chamber now to make certain I am not a terrible mess. You have made me so happy, dearest. I hope you are happy as well. You are, are you not?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I am. Lord Wilton is…”My heart.
But she kept that to herself. Because it was fresh and new and wonderful. And she was not ready to share that yet either. It felt like something she ought to reserve for Neville alone.
“He is a wonderful gentleman,” Auntie Louise said on another sniffle. “He is in love with you. I am so glad he and I had our talks.”
“Talks?” Further suspicion rose. “You spoke to him on more than one occasion, aside from today?”
“I did encourage him in his suit,” Auntie Louise said, her gaze slipping away from Charity’s. “You must forgive me for intervening, but the outcome has been exactly what I wished.”
“What you wished? I thought we were traveling to the Continent together,” Charity said, trying to understand the missing portion of this deucedly difficult complication. “We made plans.”
“Of course I did, and we would have done.” Auntie Louise met her gaze once more, giving her a sad smile. “But neither did I wish for you to remain alone all your life, as I have been. I had determined to find a proper match for you.”
“Do you mean to say you were playing the matchmaker?”
