“Now, now, a lady does not make remarks like that, Charlotte. It’s unbecoming of you. You’re never going to find a husband with manners like that. You should be more like Lydia. She’s perfect. Look at her, sitting there minding her own business.”
“Hm, did you say something, Grandmama?”
“You can call her Grandmother. We’re no longer children,” Charlotte pointed out.
“She’s just being affectionate, dear. I don’t mind at all. I’ve certainly been called worse things in my day. I once knew a very rude man. Lord Sinclair was his name, and…”
Charlotte shifted her position as best she could, although it was impossible to move enough to ease the ache in her legs. She gazed out of the window, tuning out a story she had heard countless times before, even if this time she found it to be applicable to her life.
There was an uncomfortable prickle on the back of her neck as she thought about the haunting gray eyes. Her throat became incredibly dry, and her tongue seemed to swell. She reached up to brush away an itch that she felt on her lips before suddenly thrusting her hands down again, not wanting to draw any attention to that area of her face.
For the past two weeks, Charlotte had been wracked with guilt and fear. Every time a letter was delivered, she feared it would be an aggressive accusation of a violation of social norms. Every time there was a visitor, she felt an urge to be swallowed by the ground, just in case it was him.
The man with whom she shared a secret.
The man to whom she offered something she should have kept for herself.
She had danced with the devil, and the music had not stopped playing yet.
The carriage jolted again, interrupting Agatha’s story.
“Someone really should do something about these roads. They’re in a terrible state. You can tell a lot about a country from its roads. Imagine what our foreign visitors must think of us? Edmund, would you remind me where we are traveling?”
“Winthrop estate, Grandmother,” Edmund said through gritted teeth. He glanced toward Charlotte, who shrugged. She had lost count of how many times they had reminded Agatha of their destination.
“Oh yes, of course. Well, I shall have to have a word with the Duke of Winthrop about the roads. If anyone can do anything about it, I’m sure he can.”
A pang of fear flashed in Charlotte’s mind. She could just imagine Agatha approaching the Duke and making this inappropriate request, offending him in the process and causing him to break off the engagement between Mary and Alfred.
“Perhaps Edmund should mention it to him after the wedding. Men have a way of sorting these things out after all,” Charlotte suggested. Edmund glared at her, but Charlotte tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. It was a tactical comment, and it soon succeeded.
“Men? I’ll tell you a thing or two about men.” Agatha adopted a harsh tone, just as Charlotte knew she would. Agatha proceeded to offer her opinion of the capability of men for the rest of the carriage ride. Her words were not complimentary at all, but at least they did not fall on any ears outside of the family.
Charlotte breathed a little easier, although she knew the tension was not going to leave her until Mary and Alfred were married.
“It is jolly kind of him to open his house to us,” Edmund said after Agatha had finished her diatribe. Charlotte wore a disbelieving smile.
“Let’s just remember to be on our best behavior. We are here to support our dear cousin after all.” She looked at Edmund in particular.
“I’m always on my best behavior,” Agatha muttered. The carriage came to a halt, and the door was opened for them by a porter. Agatha alighted from the carriage first and stumbled as she missed the step. She blamed the driver, who was helping her.
Charlotte sighed with relief now that she had room to breathe. She slid across the seat and joined her grandmother, quickly followed by Lydia. Edmund then bent his head and climbed out, clapping his hands together and looking toward the house.
The porter took their names and then presented them to the butler. He clicked his heels together and gestured toward the house. Other servants buzzed around them, fetching the luggage from the carriage. The butler measured his pace to match the guests.
The manor stood before Charlotte, imposing and intimidating. The courtyard was wide and expansive, with small buildings peppered along the perimeter. The stables stood beside thehouse. A majestic horse was currently being led away, its coat as black as coal.
“I hope that we have an opportunity to ride through the countryside,” Lydia remarked upon seeing the horse.
“I’m certain we’ll have the opportunity to do many things, but don’t take that as an invitation to go chasing after roots and weeds,” Edmund called over his shoulder.
Charlotte’s cheeks burned, but she did not take the bait of his comment. However, a thought passed through her mind that she would much rather have been with her plants. They were much safer to be around, and she knew what to expect with them.
High walls extended around the estate, and a large iron gate creaked ominously behind them and then clanged as it was shut.
Charlotte’s heart trembled, as though a cold wind blew right through her.
“Are you as nervous as I am?” Lydia whispered, leaning into Charlotte.
