“I don’t want anything to jeopardize Mary’s chances of marriage.”
“You will tell me if I do anything improper, won’t you? I want to ensure I make a good impression. I fear that I may cause offense somehow.”
“Believe me, Lydia, you are not the sibling I’m worried about,” she said, looking toward Edmund. However, shame burned deep inside because she was the one who had acted inappropriately. She was the one who had kissed a stranger.
She glanced back at the heavy iron gate. There was no escape now. She clasped her hands together, trying to quell the feeling of dread that spiked within.
“What do you think he’s like, the Iron Duke?” Lydia asked.
“I’m unsure. I pray that he is more forgiving than his reputation suggests. And I hope that I am wrong in thinking he has an ulterior motive for hosting us,” Charlotte replied.
“What other motive could there be? It’s only right for the families to know each other.” Lydia’s voice rose with intrigue.
“I’m worried he’s using this opportunity to test us, that he’s watching like a hawk for any offence, and when one is committed, that will be that for Mary.”
Lydia gulped, and her face paled. She began tugging at her gloves with more severity.
“Oh, dear.”
“Oh, dear indeed. I must ask something of you, dear sister. With Edmund’s way of indulging himself and with Grandmother’s tendency to say whatever thoughts cross her mind, it mightbehoove us to remain close to them. We must put our best foot forward. I don’t want anyone to associate the Hartley family with negative qualities.”
“Of course. We must ensure that Mary gets married. She is like the princess of the story, and we need to help her,” Lydia said firmly.
Charlotte nodded. She wasn’t about to debate the merits of those stories now. She hadn’t actually intended to ask Lydia for help, but after listening to her grandmother’s stories during the carriage ride, she knew she needed as much help as she could get.
The entrance to the manor was grand. Wide carved doors depicted scenes of a hunt. A large knocker hung in the middle of the door. Charlotte took a deep breath. This was it. This was the test, and if they did not pass, then Mary’s hopes of marriage would be dashed.
The butler opened the door with a practiced motion and then held it open, announcing the guests as they entered. His voice was a deep baritone, and their names echoed through the house.
The foyer of the manor was large. A wide, carpeted staircase greeted them opposite the entrance, rising to the second floor. A large window allowed sunlight to pour through. On either side, hallways led to other rooms. Charlotte could hear the movement of the servants.
Paintings hung on the walls, displaying members of the Blackwood family. There was something oddly familiar about some of the men, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
She did not have the time to study the paintings in any great detail, as the Blackwood family arrived to greet them, as did Mary. They gathered at the foot of the staircase after the butler’s announcement.
Breaking social norms, Clara was the first to greet them. She scampered from her mother’s side and rushed toward Charlotte. Charlotte bent down and hugged her tightly. The butler looked aghast at this but said nothing.
“I was watching the gates, waiting for you to arrive!” Clara said.
“Then you must have seen our carriage.”
Charlotte breathed a little easier in the company of Clara. There was something unthreatening about the child. However, when she lifted her gaze and looked at all the other people waiting to greet her, she felt her heart quail with trepidation. These weren’t new friends to make; they were new people to judge her and find fault with her family.
The butler cleared his throat and introduced the guests, speaking more quietly than when he had announced them upon entry to the house.
Charlotte placed her hands on Clara’s shoulders, keeping her close. Mary stood between the two families and introduced her side first. Then, she moved on to the two people standing beside her.
Charlotte’s gaze did not settle, for she was searching for the Iron Duke. Thoughts of his absence swam through her mind. Had he somehow heard about the forbidden kiss? Was he punishing her already? She reached up to scratch an invisible itch on the back of her neck.
It was as though she was being watched.
“It is our honor to host you, and I look forward to our two families becoming one. Mary has often spoken of the closeness between you all, and I hope that soon you will consider me your cousin as well,” Alfred Blackwood said graciously.
Beatrice Blackwood, the Dowager Duchess, was thin and refined. Her skin was pale and flawless. Her hair was impeccable, not a strand out of place. She had a thin, long nose and two piercing eyes that seemed unblinking and inscrutable.
“Please make yourself feel welcome in our home for the duration of your stay. Once you are settled, we shall feast.”
Her tone was far more perfunctory than Alfred’s. While he radiated warmth, she was cold. Her posture was perfect. Charlotte felt a wave of tension running across her skin. Suddenly, she was aware of all her imperfections.
