I did not appreciate what he was doing to my heart.
It needed to stop. Mama expected an advantageous match from me, and I expected that of myself. I had grown too weak and careless. Even if I was not going to catch a husband here in Craster, I could find one somewhere else.
And I was most certainly not going to fall in love.
My new endeavor was clear, and after bidding Mrs. Abbot farewell, I hurried home with determination in my step. When walked into my room, I closed the door behind me and sat at my writing desk. My right hand would not suffice, so I wrote with my left. The words were sloppy and painstaking, but it didn’t matter. I blew the ink dry and looked at the title of my newest list:
How not to fall in love with Mr. James Wortham: Charlotte’s list of requirements.
1. Never spend time alone with him.
2. Never laugh with him.
3. Never look at his face for more than three seconds.
4. Never admire the color of his eyes.
5. Never think about kissing him.
6. Never let him make me blush.
I finished the list with that for the moment, and sat back in my chair, feeling much stronger and more in control than before. I studied the words, silently praying that I would be able to decipher them tomorrow.
My left-handed penmanship was atrocious.
Chapter Sixteen
“So shines a good deed in a weary world.”
Lord Trowbridge walked Clara home the next afternoon, and I watched from the window as they approached our cottage. Half my face was concealed behind the dusty curtains when I sneezed, and I had to duck out of sight. Had they heard me?
I stifled a laugh and peeked above the windowsill, straining my eyes to see their expressions.Heavens, were Clara’s cheeks pink. Lord Trowbridge wore an adoring grin. He reached for her hand and kissed the top of it in farewell.
I gasped, covering my mouth to stop the sudden giggle that bubbled from my chest. It came out anyway—loud and girlish.Well, that was certainly uncalled for.
When Lord Trowbridge walked away, I threw the curtains back over the window and bounded down the creaking, narrow staircase. I met Clara at the front door just as she pulled it open.
She shrieked in surprise.
“What on earth did I just witness?” I planted a hand on my hip with a grin. “Are youcourtinghim?”
The shade of her cheeks made the scarlet shawl she wore look pink. “You were watching us?”
“Of course. And I have seen enough to know that he adores you. He could very well be in love with you.”
She slumped down on the sofa with a skeptical look. She fanned her hands around her face in a dramatic fashion. “‘Love is not real.’ ‘Love is a weakness.’ ‘Men do not love, they only desire.’ What has happened to you, Charlotte?” She gasped and grinned knowingly. “You have fallen in love.”
My hand flew to my chest in dismay. “Me? That is an absurd idea, and you know it.”
She leaned forward. “Do not deny it. I saw the way you looked at Mr. Wortham at Clearfield House.”
I panicked, but refused to admit any feelings I had toward that man. Acknowledging it would only worsen the problem. It had been several days since we had played the pianoforte together, and I had been doing well in my attempts to forget it. I frowned, trying to appear nonchalant. “How exactly did I look at him?”
“Like he was happiness personified.” She waved her hands in the air and laughed. “Like he was an expensive gown. Or a lemon tea cake.”
I gasped, sitting beside her and swatting her arm. “I did not!”
She was still laughing, but caught her breath. “And the way he looked at you…I daresay he adores you as well.”
