Wilde was right. She was the very definition of momentum. “Is she well?” he asked, apprehensive of the answer.
Edward shook his head. “Today was the first time she has left her room in almost a week. She looked like hell when she did. Her heart is broken.” His hand tightened around his glass.
The news made John ill. He’d hoped that somehow it had only been his heart that had been crushed. “I love her. I know you thought we were too different and that we would never suit, but truthfully, she was everything I needed. She showed me I was wrong, that mankind is better than I assumed, that society was worth being a part of. When I get to Boston, I’ll remember that.”
Edward twisted his glass. “You’re still determined to go to America?”
There was nothing left for him here. “I’ll lease a house in the city, at least close to it, and I’ll attempt to have more people in my life. To trust a few more people.” He would not allow the time he spent with Charlotte to be wasted. He would be a man she could be proud of, even if she never knew it.
Wilde leaned forward, hands clasped, very duke-like, as though he were negotiating a bill in parliament. “Is there any way I can convince you not to go?”
The mere suggestion of his staying rattled John’s determination. He didn’twantto leave. Hehadto leave. “I can’t stay. We can’t be together, and I certainly cannot be in England without her.”
Edward sighed and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed between his brows, looking years older than he was. “I was wrong,” he said finally. “I thought she would be miserable. But Charlotte was happy while the two of you were spending time together. She used to flit from thing to thing, from person to person, and nothing was ever enough for her. She was always looking for more, something no single person could give. Whatever that something was, I think she found it in you.”
John closed his eyes, wishing for all the world that Wilde would take those words back. “I don’t want to hear that. I want to hear that I’m replaceable. That while she’s sad now, someone else is going to come along and she’s going to forget me. I want to hear that she’s going to find happiness here in London with someone who can give her what I can’t.”
That was all he wanted—her happiness. The thought of her with someone else caused actual physical pain, but that pain was preferable to her misery.
Edward shook his head. “I don’t see that happening. She’s had four years out in society to find that person. I hardly believe I’m saying this, but I think she was waiting for you. And I don’t think she’ll evernotbe waiting for you.”
Nausea bubbled up his throat. He tugged loose the ribbon that tied his hair back. “I have nothing, not a cent to my name. I can get work, but does she truly want to be married to a man in trade? Where would we live? Where would she receive her friends?”
Edward sighed. “You can live with us. There’s plenty of room. Nothing would have to change.”
Wilde would suggest that. He didn’t understand that Charlotte had grown as much as John had during their relationship. “No. It’s time Charlotte stop hiding too. Being your hostess has been safe for her. She could focus her energies on you and William and fool herself into thinking she’s living her own life. But she needs to move on.”
Wilde grunted, obviously displeased with John’s assessment.
“The problem is not just where we’d live,” John added. “She needs someone who can provide for her better than I can.” He hadn’t meant to yell, but his frustration was boiling over. Nearby tables turned their heads and he lowered his voice. “Surely you want that for her?”
Wilde’s fingerstap, tap, tapped on the table as he considered John’s words. Eventually, he stopped. “I don’t think you’ve got the right of it. Charlotte needs her family and needs her friends and yes, I think she needs London society. But that doesn’t equate to her needing riches. She’s never been a girl to only wear a dress once. And while I’m not sure she could ever do without a cook, since none of us can boil water, she could do without a butler or a footman.”
Wilde made it sound so simple, and it was infuriating, but it also gave him hope. “Would society accept her like that? Can you see the Duchess of Camden coming to a tiny two-bedroom apartment to pay a call?” Society might not be as cruel as John once thought, but it was certainly stratified and only a fool thought differently.
“Her dowry will absorb the worst of it. You won’t have the riches she’s used to, but you won’t be paupers. You’ll have a home. And you underestimate the strength of Charlotte’s relationships. She is beloved. She won’t be turned away from anywhere regardless of how small a life she lives. Society would rather see her happy than rich.”
“You truly think so?” It seemed beyond comprehension to John. He could rely on a handful of people—literally six—to look beyond his flaws and accept him. To think that all of society could look past a lack of money and title, the two things they valued most, beggared belief.
But Wilde knew these people. He’d spent his life among them. If he thought Charlotte could be happy here in London in reduced circumstances, then perhaps there was a chance.
And if there was even the slightest chance that he could be happy with the love of his life, he would take it.
Chapter 30
Have you ever seen such a crush?” Miss Ashby said, leaning close to Charlotte to be heard over the orchestra and the gossip and the sound of shoes tapping on the chalked marble floor.
“This is always the most popular ball of the season,” Charlotte explained. “Lord Ashworth stocks the gaming room with many foreign delicacies. It’s one of the few nights that the men dictate where the fun is to be had.”
Attending had seemed like a good idea that afternoon. Now that she’d fully resolved to remain in London, going to what was usually her favorite ball had seemed a surefire way to break out of her doldrums.
Instead, she was surrounded by two hundred of her closest friends and felt totally alone.
“We do so appreciate your finagling us an invitation,” Miss Portsmith said.
“It’s nothing,” Charlotte replied. Helping the American girls had given her a reason to get out of her bedclothes. “I’m glad for the opportunity to help.”
Miss Ashby stood on her toes to better review the crowd. “Is Lord Harrow coming tonight? That is, the previous Lord Harrow? Lord John Harrow? He’s been missing for weeks now.”
