“It’s not a judgment on her character; it’s just that, well, she only wants to get married for all the boring reasons like duty, safety, and the rest.”
“Isn’t that why anyone gets married?”
“No, people get married for love.”
Edmund leaned back and regarded Charlotte with a surprised look. He grinned and chuckled to himself.
“Well, well, Lady Charlotte, if you aren’t suddenly showing your romantic side. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Charlotte scowled. “Just because I don’t want to get married myself doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in love. You only have to look at Mother and Father to see that.”
The smile fell from Edmund’s face. He hung his head, and a shade of melancholy shadowed his features.
“Yes, well, people get married for all sorts of reasons. I don’t know why you’re letting it bother you so much. Let her at it, I say.”
“But would you want that for yourself?”
“Me?” he placed a hand on his chest and adopted a foppish expression. Whatever anguish plagued him was swept away with ease. “I am the most romantic of all the romantics. I am in love with love itself. When I choose to marry, it will be the grandest wedding there has ever been, but that’s me. Do you honestly believe the Iron Duke would want such a thing? Duty and obligation are romantic to him.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Everything must be orderly with him. Traditional notions of romance have no place in his mind. Look at what he’s doing to poor Alfred? He could just give his blessing, but no, he has to go through all the proper procedures. I can imagine his wedding will be an entirely grim affair.”
“I imagine you’re right,” Charlotte agreed, although inside she had a feeling that Edmund was very, very wrong. She had seen the fire in Nathaniel’s eyes. She had seen him light up when he spoke about Brutus, when he engaged in discussions about classical literature. She had felt the tension that rose between them. It wasn’t something that could be ignored.
But she was.
Honoria was going to be his wife. That was an absolute fact.
Edmund then tapped his nose.
“The less said about this, the better; it’s not our concern anyway.”
Charlotte plodded along, trying to take Edmund’s words to heart.
When they entered town, Mary suggested that they buy some fabric and accessories for an upcoming ball. The shop was small, and the proprietor was pleased to receive such a large group of guests. They spread out across the store, although Charlotte’sinterest was performative. If this were an apothecary, then she might have shown more enthusiasm.
Mary and Lydia split off, leafing through various ribbons and fabrics. Charlotte moved to a corner of the store where she could be alone. She pretended to look at some brooches, although none of them were as well-made as Agatha’s.
There was a modest-looking glass where she was standing, intended to allow people to see how well the brooches suited them. Charlotte used it to look at Nathaniel, who was hovering near Honoria.
In some ways, they seemed the perfect match, but looking at them together… Charlotte couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something off about them. They were looking everywhere but at each other. Nathaniel came close to her but then stopped, as though there was an invisible barrier separating them. There was no attempt made at casual conversation either.
They were more like strangers than anything else.
Perhaps that would all change as they got to know each other better. However, Charlotte thought about how ferocious things had been between her and Nathaniel during their first meeting.
“Cousin, would you come here and help me choose a fabric?” Mary asked. Charlotte blinked and quickly turned away from the mirror, fearing that someone might discover her secret. She approached Mary, who was now by herself. Charlotte could see that Lydia had moved away, looking at bracelets.
“Are you feeling well? You look rosy,” Mary cooed.
“I’m just a little warm.” Charlotte brushed away Mary’s concern. “What assistance can I offer?”
“I want to pick out a fabric for my dress. I’m just undecided.”
“You’re undecided about everything,” Alfred teased.
“Everything apart from you,” Mary fired back, and this kept Alfred quiet. They shared a warm look. The affection shared between them was infectious.
