Charlotte murmured her thanks, relieved that Mrs Wilberforce did not insist upon accompanying her, and immediately turned her horse back towards the mansion.
Upon her return, she searched the usual rooms—the drawing room, the library, the morning parlour—but Lady Boulton was nowhere to be found.
When she questioned the maids, she learned that Lady Boulton was taking a walk in the pleasure gardens.
Charlotte smiled inwardly.
So much for being too delicate to ride.
She hurried outside and soon found her quarry smelling the roses and looking the picture of health. Lady Boulton spotted her and waved her over, appearing positively serene.
‘Lady Boulton.’ Charlotte smiled pleasantly as she joined her upon the gravel path. ‘I abandoned the ride rather early, though I found myself still desirous of a little fresh air.’
She felt compelled to justify her presence, though she hoped she did not sound too deliberate.
Lady Boulton appeared not to notice.
‘The grounds are particularly lovely at this time of year,’ she said gently. ‘I have always admired Mrs Wilberforce’s pleasure garden—she cultivates such a remarkable variety of flowers.’
‘I had no idea you possessed such a keen interest in gardening. Do you have gardens of your own at Boulton Hall?’
Lady Boulton’s expression dimmed slightly.
‘Once, before my marriage, I kept several hothouses at my parents’ estate. I grew herbs and flowers there constantly.’ A wistful note entered her voice. ‘But Lord Boulton considers such pursuits a frivolous waste of time. Though I still indulge in them occasionally when he is away upon business.’
Charlotte bit her lip to stop herself from voicing precisely what she thought Lord Boulton ought to do with his opinions.
A fierce wave of indignation rose within her.
‘I cannot imagine any genuine passion being a waste.’
Lady Boulton gave a faint, amused laugh. ‘You are kind to say so. And I must thank you again for the other evening. Lord Boulton can be... particular. It is often easier simply to endure his displeasure in silence.’
Charlotte felt sympathy swell within her chest.
Poor woman.
Lady Boulton waved a hand at Charlotte’s visible concern. ‘Think nothing of it, child. One learns to manage.’
‘And how does one manage such a husband?’
That earned her another small laugh.
‘I doubt you shall encounter the same difficulties with Lord Stanley. The man seems quite besotted.’
‘Oh no, I—’ She broke off, then, remembering her purpose, forced herself to continue with studied carelessness. ‘Though I confess he can occasionally be rather... overbearing.’
Lady Boulton patted her arm. ‘Oh, my dear, Lord Boulton is something else altogether, trust me. You shall do very well with Lord Stanley.’
‘Still,’ Charlotte said gently, ‘forgive me if I speak too plainly, but you do not appear particularly happy.’
Lady Boulton’s face clouded.
‘He travels a great deal—which, in truth, is something I encourage. We spend very little time together, save during this annual house party.’ A faint, rueful smile touched her lips.
Charlotte could not blame her in the slightest.
‘Then perhaps your arrangement is not wholly intolerable,’ she said carefully.
