“Before we get to that,” Elizabeth interrupted the conversation while still chewing her mouthful of fruit.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Helena gently scolded her.
Swallowing her food, Elizabeth placed her knife and fork on her plate. “Apologies, Mama. I was merely excited to inform Jameson that Lady Henrietta was thrilled with the dance they shared last night.”
Jameson felt his hopes sinking again as he listened to his sister speak of Henrietta’s excitement. They had been so close to avoiding the subject that he had thought he was in the all-clear. Yet there were none as enthusiastic in life as the friend of a hopeful young woman.
“In fact, she was so thrilled that we were both a little disappointed with the fact that you were roped into a dance with a lady that none of us have even met.” She waited patiently for him to reply, her intent clearly written on her face.
Clearing his throat, Jameson prepared himself for the battle he knew was coming. The conversation about Henrietta had never led to an argument before, but he had also never asked a lady to dance out of his own free will.
“May I remind you, sister, that no dances were promised to Lady Henrietta other than the one that I unknowingly promised her. And I was not ‘roped’ into dancing with Lady Charlotte as you so poignantly stated the matter. I asked her to dance after a conversation we had. It just so happens that Lady Charlotte Grey and I share an affinity for music.”
Jameson stated the facts as clearly as he could in the hopes that it would deter his sister without further argument.
Elizabeth shook her head and rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh.
“Will we be seeing more of this Lady Charlotte in the future? It’s not often that you take an interest in a lady of your own accord.” His mother’s eyes sparkled as she continued to sip her tea, holding the cup with both hands.
“Mama, do not encourage him; Henrietta was devastated last night when she couldn’t have the final dance. I had to console her and turn down the invitation to dance from a lovely young gentleman.” Elizabeth pouted slightly with a visible look of disappointment.
“Then perhaps, dear sister, you should concern yourself with your own affairs instead of ensuring the emotional well-being of your friend. Lady Henrietta is old enough to fight her own battles,” Jameson said, taking his chance to broach the subject with his sister.
“I will have you know that Henrietta is a very delicate soul; she needs me to reassure her when things go wrong. You may realize just how sensitive she is if you give her the time of day. She may not be as proficient as you with the pianoforte, but she is a lovely person.”
Elizabeth came to her friend’s defence with a gallant look in her eyes.
“That ‘delicate soul’ as you refer to her spent the better part of the evening gossiping about some poor girl who had the misfortune of finding herself in the family way,” Jameson countered with a pointed look of his own. It still baffled him that someone as gentle and kind as his younger sister could be friends with such an odious gossip.
Elizabeth was about to reply when Lady Helena cut her off. “I will not have such talk at the table while we are eating. In fact, you should not be talking of such things at all, Elizabeth; if one of the young ladies of the ton has found herself in unfortunate circumstances, then she is in need of our sympathies and not our ridicule,” she reprimanded her daughter sternly.
“It was not I that spoke of the lady, Mama. All the other young ladies know about it, but I have refrained from the gossip,” Elizabeth said, defending herself with a hurt look in her eyes.
“Be sure that it stays that way, and your brother is right. You may want to rethink your friendships if they centre around gossip. We are attending a soiree tomorrow evening, and I expect you to think about what I have said.” Lady Helena shook her head in disgust and placed her empty cup back on the table.
Jameson held his tongue and turned back to his plate, finally able to eat. His mind wandered to the Soiree at Lady Thornton’s mansion and if Charlotte would be in attendance. He wanted nothing more than to see her again, and possibly, just possibly, they would find a moment to themselves.
Chapter 8
Sitting opposite her uncle in the moving carriage, Charlotte clenched her fists over her knees. Her palms were beginning to sweat as the anxiety set in; it had been three years since she had played the pianoforte in public. Not since her parents had perished in the unfortunate accident.
Isabella and Grace had talked her into playing again, stating that it would be good for her to get back to things as they once were in her life. Not that anything could go back to where it had been before … A vice-like grip took hold of her chest as she let out a breath and thought of her parents.
“How did the visit with Lord Frederick go yesterday?” Reginald suddenly spoke up, making her jump in her seat.
Turning her attention back to the interior of the carriage, Charlotte nervously wiped her palms on the fabric of the seat at her sides. “Quite well, we spoke of many pleasant topics.” She forced a smile and lied, not wanting to anger her uncle with the fact that she felt nervous in the man’s presence.
“Good, I expect you to make a good match and not disappoint me,” Reginald grumbled, seemingly troubled by his own thoughts.
Charlotte had noticed his withdrawal over the past few weeks, not that he had ever taken an overenthusiastic interest in her life. Yet he seemed more distant than usual, barking single-syllable instructions and leaving her to her own devices even when suitors such as Lord Frederick visited her.
“Why is it that your curls are out of place? Does your lady’s maid not know how to do her duties? God knows I pay her enough to do them,” he barked at her through narrowed eyes, scrutinizing the strands of curled hair that hung down her shoulders.
Running her fingers through the auburn locks, she self-consciously tried to pin them back into place. “Anna was not feeling well this morning. I told her that I would dress myself for the soiree,” Charlotte explained after making sure that her reflection in the carriage window was presentable.
“Yes, the butler did say that some of the servants were feeling under the weather. I’ll have to rethink their positions if matters don’t improve in the very near future,” he snarled with his nose in the air.
“I hardly think that the servants can help it if they are all feeling ill,” Charlotte spoke up before she could stop herself.
