“I shall tell you all in the morning,” Char promised, even as she was starting up the stairs.
Inside her room, she could barely undress herself before falling into the bed. Both brain and body were exhausted; however, sleep eluded.
No, she curled up with her pillow and thought of Whitridge, remembering each and every detail of their conversation. She tried to reword it in her mind, to change his response or hers... and yet, it was done. There would not be a second chance.
The next morning she woke up groggy and out of sorts. It didn’t help that Lady Baldwin was cheery. Char found her and Sarah at the kitchen table rehashing the evening over tea and toast.
“She conquered him,” Lady Baldwin was saying to Sarah as Char entered the room. “Everyone,tout le monde, whispered about them. They were the most handsome couple in the room and the most favored.”
“Well done,” Sarah said to Char as she sat in a chair, still not ready to face the morning.
“And the papers agree,” Lady Baldwin added, tapping the paper in front of her. “They are full of you, Charlene. The ‘Fairest of Them All’ they call you. Don’t you like that?”
“It is a bit nonsensical, isn’t it?” Char answered.
“Let me make you a cup of tea,” Sarah wisely offered, and Char nodded her head.
She asked Lady Baldwin, “You’ve already been out and purchased the papers?”
“Oh no,” Lady Baldwin said. “Sarah started to go out and buy them. We were certain they would say something about the ball last night and we couldn’t wait to read what they wrote. However, these were on the front step. And they were open to the recounts of last night’s ball and your stunning success.”
“On the step?” Char repeated.
“Yes, isn’t that interesting? Opened and folded to the social pages. A neighbor must have thought we should see them.”
But Char knew it was no neighbor. Stirring her tea, she knew Leo was keeping track of her.
After all, he’d learned to read in Newgate prison.
Chapter Thirteen
Char’s days became filled with the duke. She began to know his servants by name. Ambrose was his coachman, Pomeroy his tiger, Henry his butler, and Talbert—well, Talbert took care of everything. He was the duke’s secretary. She learned to distinguish the difference between the duke’s handwriting and Talbert’s. She could tell when the duke ordered a particular arrangement of flowers for her and when Talbert was just following general orders, which was quite often.
Sarah told her not to quibble. A hundred thousand girls would be glad to have such a problem.
Baynton was always busy and this afforded Char the opportunity to become well acquainted with his mother and other family members, including Elin, his brother Ben’s wife. There was no rancor that she could see between the duke and the couple. He treated them with great affection as they did him in return, no matter what the gossips enjoyed whispering.
Whitridge was with their company from time to time. He was polite but formally distant. He was also an outsider. His family included him but even Char could see that a good number of Society didn’t. There were always murmurs when he passed. Char had heard some of the names they mentioned.
However, women still found him attractive. Char had also noticed the looks they gave him, but he didn’t seem open to their obvious lures.
He was focused on his purpose for being in London, his “meeting,” as his family called it, to discuss American interests. A meeting that always seemed to be on the brink of happening and then would be postponed.
She was certain Whitridge was frustrated by the delays. She wondered if his mother and brothers were playing with him a bit. Perhaps they hoped that time with them would give Whitridge a change of heart, that he would realize the error of his ways and denounce his American loyalties.
She could have told them he would not. He was one of the most honorable men she’d ever met. She mourned losing the right to trust him with her confidences.
What Char did have trouble doing was calling Baynton by his given name in private. She’d forget. He would gently remind her, and she would forget again... because it was annoying to have to think all the time if she was in a personal setting or a public one. And because, well, she wasn’t certainexactlywhy she seemed unable to consistently honor his one simple request.
Invitations arrived daily.
She and Sarah were becoming adept at taking her meager wardrobe and changing dresses with ribbons and lace so that they looked different. These moments spent tearing off trim and replacing it were good times between them.
Baynton often asked about her aunt. He was anxious to meet Sarah and would wonder when she was returning from Manchester. Sarah was equally anxious to avoid such a meeting.
“It is too soon,” she would say. “The duke might reject you because he doesn’t want to align himself with an actress.”
“He is always polite to Lady Baldwin and, from the stories she tells, she was rather wild.”
