“You are most definitely not a lady,” Mary confirmed, a comment which Clara found hilarious.
“Some would say he isn’t a gentleman,” Charlotte remarked with a teasing rise of her eyebrow.
“Sister, you offend me. ’Tis a shame, as there is nowhere I would rather be than surrounded by ladies. But I suppose I shall be able to find some amusement here,” Edmund said.
“Alfred would be glad of the company,” Mary replied. “Perhaps he might even give you some advice.”
“Advice? Pray tell,” Edmund said, leaning forward as he placed a gravy-soaked piece of meat into his mouth. Mary lowered her voice, indicating that it was a serious matter.
“About marriage. Wouldn’t you like to find someone special?”
“Indeed, but where can someone special be found? I am still searching, still waiting. And I assure you that I will search with all the strength I can muster,” he replied with a rakish grin. “But, as my dear sister will attest, marriage is something that can wait. We must be patient. I would hate to rush into anything before I am ready.”
“I never took you to be the prudent kind, brother,” Charlotte said.
“Then perhaps you do not know me as well as you think.”
“At this rate, even Clara shall be married before the two of you,” Lydia replied quietly. She paused suddenly, as though she hadn’t intended to speak this thought aloud. She was in the process of raising a sliced carrot glazed with butter to her mouth, but the fork was frozen in the air.
But then Mary laughed, and whatever tension Lydia feared was allayed.
“Your tongue is getting sharper by the week, Lydia,” Edmund said in an approving tone.
“For now, the only wedding that should occupy our thoughts is that of our dear cousin and Lord Blackwood,” Charlotte said, hoping to avoid having another conversation about her own plans.
“If we shall have a wedding,” Mary said softly, the amusement fleeing her face as she glanced toward Nathaniel. The Iron Duke’s presence was imposing, looming over the entire table.
Charlotte reached behind Clara’s chair and took Mary’s hand, squeezing it to reassure her.
“I would not fret too much. I’m sure His Grace has the wisdom to grant you his blessing. I’m sure he is just waiting for the right moment. Procedure is important to him after all,” Charlotte said. She wished she could say more about Nathaniel’s guarantee, but that would mean elaborating more about their private conversations.
Charlotte wasn’t willing to go that far.
Mary offered a smile, although there was still doubt in her eyes.
Charlotte considered the concept of marriage. Even when it was desired, it seemed fraught with complications and threats. At this late juncture, all of Mary’s hopes could still be dashed. It must have been so stressful. The love Mary felt must have been worth it, but for Charlotte, it seemed easier to avoid the whole thing completely.
And then her gaze drifted toward Nathaniel. Breath was stolen from her throat, for he was gazing at her at the same time. For those brief moments, the conversation faded, and it was as though only the two of them were sitting around the table.
There were many dishes and many people between them, but somehow it seemed as though she was sitting beside him, alone as they had been in the library. Perhaps it was their secret that bound them, a secret that would never and could never be shared with anyone.
Not even between Nathaniel and his intended wife, for how could she be comfortable knowing that he had kissed another woman in the dark shadows?
Then, the butler opened the door and clipped his heels together. Nathaniel’s attention was taken away from Charlotte.
“Lady Honoria Everstone,” he announced.
The room fell silent at once. The color drained from Charlotte’s face. Her knees trembled. She placed her hands against the table to stop herself from falling. Her gaze was locked on the door.
Lady Honoria entered, her maid trailing a respectful step behind. She was the picture of grace and elegance, wearing a dress that brought to mind the shade of winter frost. Her skin was alabaster and flawless. Silvery blonde hair was pulled back tightly, revealing her striking neck, her symmetrical collarbones visible, adorned with a small locket.
With impeccable posture, she glided into the room. Her hands were clasped in front of her stomach, and she moved directly toward Beatrice, performing a deep curtsy.
“Your Grace, thank you kindly for the invitation to your impressive estate. I apologize for arriving earlier than I suggested. We were blessed with fair winds and clear roads.” Her speech was impeccable. Every word was perfectly formed.
Beatrice inclined her head.
“There is no need to apologize. Please join us,” she said, and a servant quickly pulled a chair toward the table. Beatrice gestured for Honoria to move closer and forced Agatha and the other guests to move down by one chair.
