“She cannot return fast enough for me,” he admitted, “as I believe you know.”
Char smiled her answer. She couldn’t speak. The duke was a fine man. He would not be happy with her confession. She was anxious for the evening to be done. However, first, she must speak to Jack.
“How did the meeting go today?” she asked the duke.
His gaze slid away from her. “Not as any of us planned.”
Now she understood why he was so subdued. Char was even more anxious to see Jack.
The dowager received Char and Lady Baldwin in the family quarters. She was there with her great friend Fyclan Morris, who also acted quiet.
“You are looking well this evening, Your Grace,” Char said in greeting. The duchess appeared regal, poised, and a bit distant. Her smile did not reach her eyes... or Char could have been mistaking the matter.
“As are you,” she answered, nodding to Lady Baldwin, who had gone into a deep curtsy and always had difficulty rising when she did. Baynton held out a hand for her.
“Let me tell Henry we are all here,” the duke said and left the room.
“We are small party tonight,” the dowager said. “Elin is not feeling well so she and Ben have sent their apologies.”
“Where is Lord Jack?” Char asked. “I am anxious to hear the results of his meeting.”
For a second, the duchess’s careful composure seemed in danger of cracking. Her mouth tried to smile and yet failed.
Alarmed, Char said, “I am sorry, Your Grace. Did I say something to upset you?”
“It is not you. I’m just weepy this evening. Jack is leaving for the United States on the morrow and I have no idea when I shall see him again. In fact, he has already left Menheim. He is staying at the Horse and Horn with his American friends. Here, don’t let Baynton see me upset. It would make him angry.”
Char’s mind reeled at the information. “Did he tell you he was leaving?”
“Yes.” The dowager smiled bravely. “I can’t believe he would run off again but that is the way he is. We did have good conversations. I had thought there was an understanding between us, a forgiveness...” Her voice trailed off.
Stunned, Char murmured, “I am surprised as well. He spoke of enjoying the time he spent with you.”
“So the duke said. We are both rattled by the matter and yet, Jack has made up his mind.”
Dinner was announced then. Char was seated next to the duke. He was as attentive as he could be. Lady Baldwin carried most of the conversation at the table.
Char struggled to eat the carefully prepared dishes. Her appetite had deserted her. Jack had left. He’d abandoned without a farewell.
Or had that almost kiss on her step last night been his way of saying good-bye? It would have been her first kiss. He had been the one to pull away. She had been eager and ready.
Perhaps she had misread everything. Perhaps he had not returned her regard? She tried her best to be present at the dinner table but she found it difficult to smile, to be polite... and to breathe.
This was what poets meant when they spoke of a heart breaking... she’d always thought it a figure of speech. Now she knew it was real.
And she was not the only one distraught. The dowager was very reserved. No one at the table appeared to notice, not even Mr.Morris. He and Baynton became quite involved in a conversation of differing political opinions.
This news also explained the air of distance around the duke. He was probably as sad as his mother was and Char couldn’t help but feel some empathy for him. How tragic it must be to have a brother, a twin no less, reject the family twice.
In fact, the more she thought upon Jack’s desertion, his selfishness in leaving—her heartbreak evolved into anger.
She had not imagined there had been a connection between two such strong emotions. Between the soup course and the cheese, she found herself boiling with anger. She coped by being as attentive as she could be to the duke.
And he was pleased. He even, at one point, took her hand. It was an unusual gesture for him. He was always right and proper, but then, they were around family. Why should he not take her hand?
She just wished Jack were here to see it.
The evening came to an end at eleven.
