“Oh Henry, how could you let our family come to this?” his mother asked in an anguished voice. “Did you see her? How can you ask Victor to marry such a common girl?”
“I am not any more happy about this than you, Margaret. I tried to get Thompson to agree to the girl marrying Marcus, but he is too set on the title.”
“If only you could have controlled yourself then our son would not have to make this sacrifice.”
Victor grimaced. The girl in question was listening to every word.
“Did you notice how red and splotchy her face was from crying?” his mother complained. “If anyone should cry it is us. She is being given a grand chance to improve her circumstances, which suggests that she might also be an ungrateful chit.”
“It is Victor who will suffer, not her,” his father agreed.
“I suppose we will just have to make do,” his mother said finally. “I will take her under my wing and see if we cannot find the right cosmetics, a style of dress that is flattering, and do something with that hair.”
“She will also be married and won’t need a Season,” his father offered. “It is likely Victor will keep her in the country and away from the eyes of theton. It is what I would do.”
“We must encourage him to do so,” his mother insisted. “Especially when it comes time for Maria to be presented. We cannot have that girl being a distraction and ruining any chances of a good marriage for our beautiful daughter.”
As the couple moved on, so did the girl. Victor had been watching her as he listened to his parents, but she had barely reacted other than a slight shake of her head, then the rise and fall of shoulders as if she had sighed or come to terms…could that have been Charlotte?
A servant may have eavesdropped on a conversation, but they would not be wearing a pale, silvery blue gown that reflected the moonlight.
Victor set his brandy aside and sprinted from the chamber. Once outside, he avoided the gardens, thus avoiding his parents, and found the path the girl had walked, catching up to her quicker than he had anticipated.
Yes, the dress she wore was a rich material and much too fine for a servant. He then noted the black curls that cascaded down her back in a tousled and haphazard manner. She was also slight of frame. Almost too slight. Victor had always preferred women who were fuller in hips and breasts. But it was also difficult to tell how one was shaped from behind given the fashions of the day.
She finally stopped on a grassy hillside and sank down to the ground. Beyond her was a picturesque lake lit by the moon. Victor prayed she wasn’t thinking of throwing herself in, though he may have after enduring so much belittlement in one day. Except, he still didn’t know if this was his future wife. Perhaps there was another guest that he had not met, though it was unlikely.
Victor took a step, his foot snapping a small branch that echoed through the silence.
Charlottesanktotheground and glanced out to the lake and sighed. If it were a river, she’d board a boat and take it far away from here. Unfortunately, she was stuck with nowhere to run.
Oh, she knew she should be happy to be marrying one such as Victor Hawthorn and if she were older, prettier and chosen by him, then she would be. But none of those reasons were the case. He was being coerced. Her father had purchased him as he would a stud and she couldn’t think of a worse way to start off a marriage.
Tomorrow, she would be his wife.
Good Lord, the entire thought made her ill.
The snap of a limb brought her head around.
“Are you Charlotte?” he asked with concern.
Could this day get any worse?
Charlotte quickly scrambled to her feet. “Mr. Hawthorn,” she stammered, lowering her face so he could not see her.
“Are you Charlotte?” he asked again.
If only she could deny the fact, but he would learn the truth soon enough. “Yes.”
Mr. Hawthorn approached. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Such a polite phrase, often murmured without thought, and without honesty because it was expected when introductions were made.
Charlotte dipped her chin and wished the world would swallow her whole. She wasn’t prepared to meet her future husband, not that she ever would be. But what she truly wished to avoid was yet another person having a reaction to her common appearance, as if she had any control over her features or form. She’d already heard enough for one day.
He placed a finger beneath her chin and forced her face up. At first, she fought him, but finally gave in as she’d have to face him sooner or later and it was best to get it over with.
His eyes were as green as the papers reported and he also possessed firm lips, high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. What she hadn’t expected was the sudden desire to paint him. He was too beautiful not to be memorialized on canvas.
