“Alright, I will go to the ball to keep you quiet, if nothing else,” Jameson answered with a sigh and accepted the hug his mother offered with a smile.
What harm could possibly come from attending a ball in any case? The worst thing that could happen to him was meeting a woman and falling in love. Only time would tell if that was something he wanted or not.
Chapter 3
Charlotte’s eyes drifted to her uncle from across the crowded room. Lady Carter’s ballroom was packed with the esteemed members of the ton, all dressed in their finest ball gowns and jewels. Charlotte, however, found it hard to relax as Reginald narrowed his beady eyes at her, reminding her that he expected her to behave in a certain manner.
He'd made it clear in the carriage ride to the ball that she was expected to dance with whomever he introduced her to, with no exceptions. Her feelings on the matter were of little to no concern to him.
“Where is your head, Charlotte?” Isabella’s voice broke the hold between them as Charlotte averted her gaze and smiled at her childhood friend, trying her best to push the feelings of unease to the side.
“Sorry, were you saying something?”
She tried to focus her attention back on the conversation at hand. The night was hot and humid despite the lightness of the dark green dress she had chosen. Her hair had been pinned into an elaborate bun at the back of her head, allowing her neck and shoulders to breathe. The glass doors had been flung open, allowing a gentle breeze to move between the guests as they eagerly awaited the start of the ball.
“I was just saying that there’s quite a fuss outside. Do you think perhaps that the queen will be making an appearance tonight?”
Isabella craned her neck over the heads of the guests and stood on her toes in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside. A feat that was exceptionally hard given the fact that she was at least a head shorter than Charlotte, who considered herself to be of average height.
“Isabella, dear, don’t make such a spectacle of yourself,” Lady Grace Thornton scolded her daughter and gently pulled her back down, clucking her tongue in disapproval.
Charlotte couldn’t help smiling at the interaction as she watched the way her late mother’s friend scolded her daughter. She had become somewhat of a motherly figure to Charlotte after the accident, giving her guidance and help whenever required.
“I just want to see what all the fuss is about,” Isabella complained and straightened the frills of her white beaded dress made in the same style as Charlotte’s with an open neck and shoulders. Even the girls’ hairstyles matched with tight buns and beaded pins. The late Lady Grey had often commented that Charlotte and Isabella would have looked like sisters if it hadn’t been for their differing features.
Isabella looked a lot like her mother, with black hair, green eyes, and wispish features in stark contrast to Charlotte’s more aristocratic looks. Still, it felt as if they had meant to match in a past life, if not the present. The Thornton family provided Charlotte with the much-needed family experience she craved.
“You will see them soon enough, along with everyone else, dear,” Lady Grace whispered through her teeth.
Their conversation was interrupted by the parting of the crowd as ladies and gentlemen stood aside and bowed. Perhaps Isabella had been right in assuming that the queen would be in attendance.
Charlotte couldn’t help craning her neck in the same manner that her friend had done to see what all the fuss was about. A low susurration of whispers erupted as a family stepped into the room, proving not to be the queen and her family but someone else entirely.
“Who is that?” Charlotte leaned over and whispered in her best friend’s ear, unable to tear her gaze from the door.
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t recognize one of the most prominent families in London?” Isabella whispered back in shock, raising a hand to clutch the string of pearls that stuck to her skin.
“I’m sorry if my life has been a bit preoccupied these past few years, but no, I do not recognize the family that has so clearly captivated the attention of everyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes at her friend, who was just as taken by the newcomers as everyone else. Charlotte seldom concerned herself with news of the ton and who was who in the current season.
Ignoring Charlotte’s tone, Isabella beamed from ear to ear and kept her eyes on the group of people as she spoke, ever the eager one when it came to the gossip of the ton. “That, my dearest Charlotte, is the Duke and Duchess of Eastwick. The handsome young man to the left is their son, and the younger girl is their daughter.”
“And what makes them so special?”
Charlotte couldn’t help staring at the son with his handsome features and dark blond hair. Her breath suddenly caught in her chest as he glanced in their direction, momentarily locking his brilliant blue eyes on Charlotte before turning to Lady Carter and her daughter Henrietta. His crisp blue tails only served to enhance his already prominent blue eyes.
“Honestly, Charlotte, you need to step away from your pianoforte now and then and live a little. The Sinclair family is only one of the most prominent families in London. Their son Jameson is said to be one of the most sought-after bachelors of the season.” It was Isabella’s turn to roll her eyes as she explained to her friend who the people were.
“I see.”
Charlotte let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. There was something utterly captivating and beguiling about the young man and the way he had looked at her. It was almost as if they had recognized something within one another without even realizing what had happened. Her chest had suddenly begun to rise and fall in even rhythms, displaying the electricity she had felt in his gaze.
“Never mind that. Who do you think that absolutely gorgeous young man at his side is?” Isabella bounced with excitement as her mother scolded her to behave like a lady.
Charlotte turned her attention to the man who had joined the handsome blond who her friend had referred to as Jameson Sinclair. While not as handsome as his friend, in Charlotte’s opinion, the dark and gloomy stranger held his own with grey eyes, raven-black hair, and a square jaw. Yet Charlotte couldn’t help glancing at his friend once again.
“I guess he’s also alright.” Charlotte lowered her voice and whispered in her friend’s ear so that her mother would not hear.
“Oh,” Isabella’s mouth puckered as a younger woman who bore a striking resemblance to the stranger joined his side.
