The footmen served fragrant pea soup followed by turbot with oyster sauce, while Nellie discreetly continued to watch her fiancé. Seated on his left, Marian engaged him in conversation. Her sister could bring out the best in any man. At twenty-six, she was pretty, favoring their father with her brown curls and green eyes, while Nellie and Alice were like their mother.
Their brother, Nathaniel, who at twenty-five was between Nellie and Marian in age, flirted with Lady Hattersley. As he leaned his blond head toward her, the lady simpered, while opposite them, Lord Hattersley appeared bored.
Nellie glanced at Nat’s wife, Eliza. She was talking earnestly to the vicar. Did she accept her husband’s flirtatious ways? Or was it something that tore them apart? It was disturbing how a man like Nat, who loved his family, went from flirting to affairs. If the tales which reached them were true. She glanced back at Charles seated beside her father. Could she uphold the pretense if he were unfaithful? Her throat tightened, and she reached for her wine. She must never fall in love with him, for how vulnerable she would then be to hurt.
Whist and faro followed dinner, but the evening ended early, as the shooters were to be up with the dawn.
Nellie mounted the stairs with Marian. “Well, what did you make of him?” Nellie asked. “You seemed to get on well.”
“He has a good sense of humor,” Marian said as if that was of great importance.
“He can be a bit pompous,” Nellie said a trifle unfairly. “One expects that of a duke.” She was still smarting from her thoughts during dinner.
“I didn’t find him so. Is it true of all dukes?” Marian laughed. “The Duke of Wellington might well be arrogant in men’s company, but when asked if he had affairs, he said ‘A lot of that.’” She laughed. “I found him vastly entertaining and an accomplished flirt.”
“We were talking about pomposity, not rakishness,” Nellie said with a frown. “And he is a rather poor example. He is Irish.”
Marian peered at her in the flickering light from the wall sconce. “What bee has got into your bonnet?”
“I don’t think I could bear it if Charles took a mistress. He might still have the French one.”
“It looked very much as if the affair was at an end to me. He might have no intention of taking another mistress.”
“Many men do. Our own brother, for instance.”
Marian’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder if Eliza knows. It’s surprising if she doesn’t. There was gossip last Season about him and someone. Well, whether Eliza does or not, Nat needs Papa to give him a good talking to.”
“Papa doesn’t seem to want to. And anyway, I doubt that would help. Nat has always been so inclined.”
“But it’s time he grew up and realized his actions hurt those he loves,” Marian said. “Not all men are like that, dearest. I am quite sure that Gerald is not. He is too lazy to pursue other women. And too exhausted.”
Nellie giggled.
“You must stop concerning yourself with something which may never happen. At least give Charles the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t know why I fear it so much. I suppose I am of a suspicious nature.”
“No, dearest, you’re not. You’re just nervous, as most brides are.” Worry darkening her eyes, Marian gave her a hug.
Nellie kissed her cheek and said goodnight. She made her way to her bedchamber. Was she wrong to expect him to be faithful?
*
When Charles retiredfor the evening, his valet, Feeley, awaited him in his bedchamber. He assisted Charles out of his coat. “May I offer my congratulations, Your Grace?”
“You may, thank you, Feeley.” Charles thought of his bride-to-be as he pulled off his cravat and unbuttoned his waistcoat. She had been a delightful surprise.
Feeley took the clothes Charles held out to him. “The servants were all aflutter about it in the servants’ hall. Could talk of nothin’ else.”
“Mm? I imagine so.” Charles pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to his valet, then turned his attention to his pantaloons. Seated, he pulled off his shoes and stockings.
“The can of hot water has just been brought up. Shall I fill the bath?”
“Please.”
Charles settled into the warm water. He lathered a piece of soap and washed his hair.
“There was much talk about Lady Cornelia tonight.” Feeley poured water over Charles’s head. “Everyone is very happy for her.”
