“She’s my sister’s best friend; I can’t just give her the cold shoulder. Although it still baffles me that Elizabeth can associate with a person like Henrietta. You know she was gossiping about a poor girl who might be with child?” Jameson placed his hand on his forehead and massaged his temple as if he were nursing a headache.
“Still, you will have to figure out a way to give her the slip. I saw the way she was glaring at the two of you during the final waltz. The daggers she was shooting at your backs could have brought down an armada.” Michael reached into his breast pocket and pulled out two cigars, offering one to Jameson.
“I know I need to find a way to let her down gently. I can’t keep running away from her. It’s just that my mother asked me to be polite to the girl, considering the fact that she was Elizabeth’s friend.
“Then ask your mother to come up with a way to let her down gently,” Michael suggested, puffing on the end of his cigar after lighting the tip.
“She’s harmless other than being a pain in my posterior,” Jameson conceded, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. He’d rather spend his time on more important matters when the matter of Henrietta’s infatuation with him would more than likely fizzle out once she set her sights on somebody else.
There was the family business to take care of, and Lady Charlotte with her infatuating voice and flawless beauty. He hoped he’d be seeing her around again, and if not, he’d make sure that he would.
The men began to settle down again, readying themselves to leave after a full evening of dancing and social etiquette. Jameson couldn’t help wondering about the anomaly that was Charlotte Grey and her hauntingly beautiful voice.
Chapter 7
Charlotte’s fingers rested over the keys on her pianoforte without playing a note; her mind was filled with Jameson and their encounter the previous night at the ball. She wondered if he would be contacting her again or if they would bump into one another by chance. She had never taken much stock in finding a match, but Jameson wandered through her thoughts more than she liked to admit.
“I beg your pardon, My Lady.” The butler cleared his throat in the doorway to gain her attention.
Charlotte turned to see the man in his tails and neatly ironed breeches; the buttons of his coat threatened to give way beneath the strain of his giant belly, and his moustache jiggled whenever he spoke. Yet Charlotte held a fondness for the man who had been in her life since she was born. His kind brown eyes and hooked nose reminded her of her childhood and happier days.
“That’s quite alright, Mr Wilkins, what is the matter?” She turned her body on the bench to face the door with her hands neatly tucked into her lap.
“I did not mean to interrupt your playing, My Lady, but it seems that there is a young gentleman here to see you.” Wilkins bristled his top lip, causing his moustache to jiggle in the familiar manner.
He came to see me.
Charlotte’s heart began to race with anticipation as she thought of Jameson. How was it that he had found out where she lived in such a short space of time?
“Shall I show the young man in, My Lady? Or should I let the gentleman know that you are otherwise engaged this morning?” Wilkins asked cautiously after Charlotte failed to respond after a few moments.
“No, send him in and have a tray of tea with eats sent up.” Charlotte snapped out of her daze and quickly came to her senses. There was no use in panicking now that he was knocking on her door.
“Very well, My Lady, I will have the tea sent up shorty.” Wilkins bowed politely and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.
Charlotte’s heart raced as she stared at the door; she hadn’t been prepared to receive anyone at all, let alone the man who had shown an interest in her music.
My music.
She raised a hand to her throat and clutched the fabric of her light blue day dress. She wasn’t dressed to receive, but there was little to nothing she could do about that. Jumping to her feet, she hurriedly lifted the seat of her pianoforte and rummaged through the sheets of music she kept hidden from her uncle. She’d learned his lesson one evening when he’d returned home drunk and discarded her work out the drawing room window.
The drawing room door opened, revealing Wilkins with his hand keeping the door from closing.
Charlotte quickly made sure that her hair was in place, tucking a few loose strands behind her ears before clutching her sheets of yellowing parchment to her chest.
“Lord Frederick Dunham,” Wilkins announced with his head held high and his chest thrust out.
Her heart sank as the name registered in her mind.
It’s not him.
Frederick’s gangly frame came into view, a broad smile beneath his neatly kept moustache. “I apologize for coming on such short notice, Lady Charlotte. I thought we might continue with our fascinating discussions from last night. I had hoped to garner the final dance, but you seemed to have been otherwise engaged.” His demeanour was cheerful as he held out a small bouquet of white lilies to her.
“Oh, Lord Frederick, I …” her words faltered as she clutched the sheets of music closer to her chest. His sudden presence had caught her off guard when she had been expecting someone else entirely.
“Were you expecting someone?” He lowered his arm with lilies and glanced down at the parchment in her arms.
“No, not at all. I was just busy practising. I’m delighted to see you.” She regained her composure and curtsied politely, recalling her uncle’s threats.
