“Shall we?” Robert said to Dorothea, offering her his arm. He watched her countenance change into a polite smile, and they exited the dining room, followed by Frederick and Charlotte with Lord Gillingham bringing up the rear.
As they entered the grand salon, he heard his brother asking Charlotte to favor them with a performance on the pianoforte. He saw her nod and move to sit before the beautiful instrument, which Robert had just that week had tuned in anticipation of the evening. After steering Lady Gillingham to the chair by the fire, Robert moved to the piano and shuffled through some music.
“There are many pieces here you may find you are able to play, Miss Kendall. I shall happily turn the pages for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morton, but my skill at playing music sight unseen is not all that impressive; I should hate to force you to endure it. I have, however, several pieces which I can perform from memory. I shall play one or two, then retire from this lovely instrument and spare you any further obligation to politely applaud.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “I am a firm believer that one should always stop performing well before the audience begins to ardently wish you to. Do you not agree?”
He bent closer and softly murmured, “Since I never learnt and am therefore unable to make use of our pianoforte, any performance on it by others is received with the greatest of pleasure, Miss Kendall. Certainly, I cannot imagine I should ever tire of hearing music which comes from your lovely hands.”
He caught a fleeting expression on her face—was it showingpuzzlement or was she just uncomfortable? Had he gone too far in his effusive praise? Perhaps he should pull back a bit. He stood erect and cleared his throat. “Do you—” he began.
“Do sit down, Robert, and let Miss Kendall play,” interrupted his brother. “No artist performs to their best standards when someone is hovering about.”
Charlotte laughed and sent Frederick a broad smile. “Indeed, sir, you may have given me the very excuse I need should I stumble tonight. I shall declare it all your brother’s fault.”
Robert laughed tightly and crossed to sit on the settee opposite Frederick. His attention was at first focused upon Charlotte as she took a deep breath, positioned her fingers, and began. But, as the music continued, his gaze drifted to observe his brother. He noted how Frederick sat forward—with his forearms on his knees, rather than resting his back against the settee—and how his eyes never strayed from Miss Kendall. Eyes, Robert realized with a start, that were looking at their guest with much more than polite interest. They were filled with unmistakable adoration.
Good Lord, this is the lady my brother was speaking of the other day—the one he wishes to marry. Frederick has fallen in love with Miss Kendall!
Chapter Nineteen
On the followingSunday morning, Charlotte asked Becca to take particular pains with her hair. The girl rolled her eyes, but complied. “It is just church day, after all,” she said, as she fussed with the thick, auburn tresses. “Dunno why you want to get so fancy. Your bonnet will mostly cover it, anyways.”
“Yes, I realize that, but today is an occasion of great importance. Mr. Frederick Morton is giving his first sermon at his church. I just wish to look my best so that he may know I am taking note of the event and am happy for him, is all.”
“Seems to me you should be working more to impress theotherMr. Morton—he’s the one with all the money and such, right?” She gave a little snort of amusement. “’Course, maybe you think you’ve already captured that one’s affections, so it does not matter whether you flirt a bit with the younger brother.”
Charlotte pulled away from Becca’s combing and turned in her chair to face her. “What do you mean? What have you heard?”
The girl shrugged and made a move to continue her work, but Charlotte held up her hand to stop her.
“Tell me, Becca. What have you heard about Mr. Morton and…and how it may in any way concern me?”
Becca put both hands on her hips and studied her mistress. “Well, I have a friend, see, Polly—who’s an under housemaid over at Brentwood.She says it is common knowledge around that house that Mr. Morton—the elder one, that is—has plans to make you the new mistress there. Polly told me he sent his mother’s wedding ring out this Friday to be cleaned and checked. I cannot imagine why he would do that unless he were planning on giving it to someone…” she smirked, “…and right quick, too.”
Charlotte turned back to the vanity table and clutched it with both hands, her mind whirling. He sent the ring out Friday? That was the day after their dinner at Brentwood. She shook her head firmly, as though to shake the very thought of a proposal out of her brain.
“No. No, that cannot be. I mean, yes, Mr. Morton has been kind and attentive to me these past few weeks, but I cannot believe he would seriously declare himself so soon. We really do not know that much about each other’s characters, our likes, dislikes, and so forth. Marriage is for life, after all, and a couple needs to be much better acquainted with each other before taking such a serious step. I do hope your friend has misunderstood.”
Becca shrugged and continued styling Charlotte’s hair. “I suppose, Miss. Although, many’s a couple been wed with littler acquaintance than you and Mr. Morton have. My own parents knew each other three weeks before taking the plunge and have been as happy as any two people can expect to be, I’ll wager. That is why I say—do not waste a lot of time on that poor curate. I should put all my effort into securing the affections of his older brother, iffn’ I were you. You can be just as happy with him as the other. Plus, you will have such pin money. So, to my way of thinking—andyou being just about to turn one and twenty, after all—probably best to show even more affection for Mr. Morton than you feel, so’s you can get that ring.”
She finished her work and stood back, studying Charlotte’s hair with a critical eye.
“Will that do, Miss?”
Charlotte muttered, “Yes, thank you, Becca—that will be all.” Buther eyes stared off in the distance, not even seeing her own reflection.
*
All during thecarriage ride to the church and throughout the service itself, Charlotte found herself too distracted by Becca’s words to concentrate. While on one hand, after the firm discussion with her brother-in-law, she had finally accepted the idea that shemustmarry, on the other hand, she felt herself nearly in a panic over the idea that a proposal might actually be forthcoming.
He is kind, I suppose, and handsome, too. But, do I want to accept Mr. Morton on so little acquaintance? And, what does it say about him that he might consider proposing to me under the same circumstances? Perhaps he is so eager to marry that any well-bred young lady may tempt him. But, what is the hurry, after all? Should he propose, I shall have to demur without putting him off entirely. I shall say I am simply not ready or that I wish for a long engagement. Yes, that is what I shall do. Oh, but what would Dorothea say to that?
Charlotte felt a sharp nudge in her arm and caught a puzzled look from her sister. To her embarrassment she saw Dorothea and everyone else had risen to sing the last hymn while she still sat in the pew. Charlotte quickly jumped up, fumbling with her hymnal to find her place.
As they moved toward the church doors to depart, she realized with a start that she could not remember a thing of Mr. Morton’s sermon. She felt a surge of shame; she had been so eager to hear it that she might praise his performance and writing, and now she could not think of a word to say that would not immediately be recognized as false flattery. She took a step behind Dorothea, hoping her sister might impart something helpful to her. As always, Lady Gillingham was charming and succinct.
“Our heartiest congratulations, Mr. Morton,” Dorothea enthused. “What a charming concept—to tie the very creation of the world withGod’s everlasting love for us. And, you wrote this yourself? Well done. I am quite in raptures over it.”
