“…acquired taste?” Mary replied. They both laughed.
“Indeed, but she has been in far more situations like these than we have, and she has forgotten far more about social etiquette than we have ever learned.”
“Forgetting is what I fear most,” Mary observed.
“Everything will be fine,” Charlotte said in her most reassuring tone. “What’s most important is that you are not alone.” Charlotte leaned across and hugged Mary.
By this point, Clara had gotten bored and wandered back to the window, catching the last part of the conversation.
“She’s never alone. I’m always here.”
Mary broke away from the hug, but when she went to embrace Clara, Clara was already moving in the opposite direction.
The door had been left ajar by the maid, who brought in fresh blankets. Clara slipped over to investigate, for an open door might always lead to an adventure. Charlotte observed a shadow moving outside. Clara nudged the door open, and a proud, preening cat strode in. He had a gray coat and white paws with a sleek tail that wagged like a slow pendulum.
“Greetings, Hector,” Clara said, stretching out her hand. Hector bent his head, allowing Clara to stroke his back, but nothing more. He bent low under her hand, his body an inverted arch, before righting himself to his normal posture as he spotted Charlotte.
He tilted his head to the side and looked at her with wide, glassy eyes. He came right up to Charlotte’s feet and studied her for amoment before rearing back on his hind legs and jumping into her lap.
“Oh!” Charlotte cried out in surprise as Hector pressed his paws into her lap and settled, curling his body around.
“He likes you; he likes you!” Clara beamed excitedly as she bounded toward Charlotte, giggling.
“I assume he isn’t a stray,” Charlotte said.
“Oh no, technically he belongs to His Grace, although I’m not sure His Grace cares for Hector all that much,” Mary replied.
“He does,” Clara said defiantly. “He just hides it. I’ve seen him stroke Hector.” Clara wore a proud look, as though she were privy to a secret that nobody else knew.
Charlotte was eager to dismiss this as the fantasy of a child. She couldn’t imagine anyone as hard as the Duke showing affection to something so soft and cuddly. He was unyielding and cold, qualities that no animal who craved affection would be drawn to.
However, Charlotte was glad of Hector’s company. She idly stroked the cat, her fingers swimming through his fur, running around scratching his chin, and it wasn’t long before Hector was purring happily.
“He definitely likes you,” Mary said.
“Why doesn’t he do that for me?” Clara pouted.
“Because you don’t stroke him as gently. You poke him,” Mary said with kind admonition.
Charlotte breathed heavily, the tension in her body slipping away. The cat seemed to absorb it, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
“Forgive me, Charlotte, but are you well? I have been so focused on my own state of mind that I haven’t asked about you. Is there anything troubling you?”
Aside from the fact that I kissed the man who would be your brother-in-law, inviting scandal and perhaps ruining your chance at prosperity, happiness, and love? That I insulted a man notorious for his intolerance of ill manners? No, cousin, everything is perfectly fine.
Charlotte did not give voice to these thoughts, of course. She spent a moment gazing upon Hector, wishing that life could be as simple for herself as it was for the animal.
“Nothing at all, I am just anxious for matters to proceed as we both wish and as they should. I want the wedding day to arrive as swiftly as possible.”
“You and I both,” Mary said, relieved, and then bent down to pay attention to Clara.
Meanwhile, Charlotte continued stroking Hector. Her mind drifted as she did so, and she was unable to prevent her thoughts from settling upon the man who brought her so much discomfort.
The image of his face loomed large in her mind. Being of a scientific mindset, she was unable to dispute the truth that he was a handsome man. His features were symmetrical, his jaw strong, his hair thick. But such looks were wasted on a man as infuriating as he.
Clara must have been mistaken. Charlotte couldn’t imagine Nathaniel ever petting Hector with a gentle touch. The man was cold as ice.
Except she knew that wasn’t entirely true, and she knew it better than anyone else.
