I laughed. “I don’t wish to ruin my sister's reputation. We shall call the plan 'Rosemary.' It is completely discreet, unrelated to love, and there is no significance to it.”
James leaned his head down, lowering his voice to a whisper. “But rosemary is one of the most significant scents in my opinion.”
“Why?”
“It never fails to remind me of you.”
My cheeks burned. I had a rosemary perfume from home that I used almost daily, but there were only a few drops left. The idea that James had noticed my scent, had even named it, made my heart race. “You must be mistaken. My perfume smells of lavender.” I quickly moved away before he could catch my scent again, trying not to enjoy the sound of his laugh that followed my reaction.
I recovered my thoughts and cooled my cheeks. “Before we begin, you must know the rest of the story. Several nights ago, Clara wrote a letter declaring her feelings to Thomas. We slipped it through his door, and he has not acknowledged it at all. I worry he didn't receive it, but I don't see how that can be possible.”
James listened carefully, then paused before speaking. “It may not have been enough.” He scowled. “He has been hurt before. It may be difficult for him to believe someone could love him. His wife never did.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“His late wife married him for the sole purpose of obtaining a title and his estate.” His voice was bitter. “She never loved him, but he loved her more than anything. I fear he has never recovered.”
A thread of guilt stitched through me, and I crossed my arms to contain it. “How awful,” I mumbled.
James’s gaze focused on me, but I refused to look at him. The guilt would be too much. The late Lady Trowbridge had obtained the objective I had always dreamed of. Was I also capable of doing such a thing?
“What else can Clara do to convince him?” I asked in a quiet voice. “Is it hopeless?”
“She must try to tell him her feelings aloud,” James said.
I glanced over at Clara and knew it was impossible. “She's too timid. Delivering the letter nearly made her ill. We cannot ask such a thing of her.”
James seemed to consider this, darting his gaze between the two of them, thinking. Before he could speak again, I saw Mrs. Abbot rushing toward us. “Charlotte! I am sorry to interrupt, but will you assist me for a moment? We need to usher the guests toward the music room for the performances.”
Mrs. Abbot caught James by the arm. “Mr. Wortham, would you favor us with a performance as well?”
I had only seen it once or twice before, but his confidence faltered. Then his eyes met mine and he smiled. “Only if Miss Lyons will accompany me.”
My breath caught and I tried to protest, but Mrs. Abbot gasped too loudly to compete with. “Yes! Please.” She turned to me with wide eyes.
I couldn’t possibly refuse, so I gave a hesitant nod.
Mrs. Abbot pressed a hand to her chest. “Now I am most eager to begin. Will you usher the north guests toward the music room?”
I smiled despite how nervous I felt. “Gladly.”
With another smile and squeeze of my arm, she left, leaving me alone with James again. I gave him a hard look, myheart racing with sudden nerves. “Why did you say that? Now everyone will know of my injury.”
His look was a gentle reprimand. “I told you not to be ashamed.”
“I would still prefer that the entire town not suspect there is something amiss. If they discover the truth…they will despise me for it.” I took a deep, shaking breath, and a tear slipped from my eye. James reached for my hand with a reassuring look.
“They will not.”
I scowled. “How do you know?”
He swiped away my stray tear with his thumb. My heart pounded, and I tried to ignore it, but I was too aware of James's closeness and comfort and safety. “Because it is fairly impossible to despise you. Most of the time.”
I couldn't stop my smile. Perhaps it didn’t matter if people knew the truth. In that moment it seemed that the only opinion that mattered was his. If James was the only person in the world who didn't despise me, it would be enough.
I pulled away from James, wiping away my own tears and taking a deep breath. “I will meet you in the music room then. But first I must see to the guests.”
I helped usher my assigned guests, and when all the seats were full in the music room, people still stood around the outskirts of the room and in the corridor surrounding it. I wiped the sweat off the palm of my hand—the hand that would play the keys beside James. Mrs. Abbot had added us to the program, the last performance of the night. I wished I could sit back and enjoy the music, but my stomach fluttered too violently.
