And worse still, whether he might lose Charlotte entirely if he continued doing so.
* * *
Charlotte sat between her sisters in the carriage as the Brown women prepared for their outing upon Saville Row, and thenoise within the coach nearly rivalled the chaos of the London streets outside. Joan insisted upon visiting a modiste first, while Penelope declared that bonnets were of greater importance because a poor bonnet could ruin an entire appearance. Harriet fluttered her hands dramatically between them and declared that she would perish before noon if her daughters continued quarrelling at such volume. Charlotte leaned back against the squabs and tried not to smile at the familiar disorder of her family.
The morning sunlight spilled through the carriage windows in pale ribbons as they rolled through Mayfair. Irene sat opposite Charlotte, carefully adjusting her gloves whilst listening to the others argue over fabrics and ribbons. Charlotte watched them all with quiet affection, though a strange ache pressed against her chest when she remembered how she had invited Elizabeth to accompany them on this excursion. The Dowager Duchess would have laughed at Joan’s dramatics and pretended to scold Penelope for vanity before promptly buying the girl two bonnets instead of one. Charlotte realized with painful clarity that she missed Elizabeth terribly.
And worse still, she missed Victor.
The thought arrived with such force that Charlotte turned her face toward the carriage window at once, as though London itself might distract her from it. Crowds moved along the pavements in thick streams of color and noise, merchants shouted over one another, and elegant ladies swept past beneath feathered hats. Yet none of it truly occupied her mind because all she could think of was her husband pacing Mulford Manor with that sternexpression upon his handsome face. Her stomach twisted with longing so sudden that she almost pressed a hand against it.
“Charlotte,” Harriet said sharply. “You have gone silent again, and I know precisely what that means.”
Joan gasped theatrically. “Oh heavens, she is thinking of the duke again.”
Penelope collapsed against the carriage cushions with exaggerated despair. “Our sister is hopelessly devoted.”
“I am not,” Charlotte protested at once, though her cheeks betrayed her with warmth. “I merely have much upon my mind.”
Irene smiled knowingly. “Which is another way of saying she misses him.”
Charlotte huffed softly and folded her hands in her lap. “I have been away from Mulford Manor only a short while.”
“And yet you stare out windows as though awaiting a tragic sailor’s return from war,” Joan said. “If I had a husband as handsome as the Duke of Mulford, I should never leave his side.”
Harriet nodded in agreement. “Indeed, daughter. That man looks at you as though he wishes to devour you whole.”
“Mama!” Charlotte whispered in horror.
Penelope burst into laughter. “It is true, though.”
Charlotte tried to maintain a proper expression, but her face grew warmer still as memories of Victor crowded her mind. His hands upon her waist. His deep voice murmuring against her ear. The wicked smile he wore whenever he teased her until she forgot her own thoughts entirely. She pressed her gloved fingers together and silently begged herself to stop thinking about her husband in such a manner whilst seated beside her mother and sisters.
Harriet peered at her curiously. “There, look again.”
“What look?” Charlotte asked weakly.
“The look of a woman remembering kisses,” Joan declared.
Charlotte nearly choked on nothing at all. “Joan!”
The carriage erupted into laughter so loud that even Irene failed to remain composed. Charlotte covered her face briefly with one hand and groaned softly whilst her sisters delighted in tormenting her. Though mortifying, their teasing filled the carriage with warmth and life, and she found herself laughing despite herself. Her thoughts drifted to Victor.
Perhaps I had been cruel to go? Can I not overlook his fear of having children for now?
Eager to redirect both the conversation and her own thoughts she changed the subject. “I do not wish any of you to overspend today,” Charlotte said firmly. “The season will soon end, and I shall not see Victor ruined merely because you all desire silk every other week.”
Joan snorted inelegantly. “Ruined?”
Penelope waved a dismissive hand. “Charlotte, I believe your husband possesses more money than the king.”
“He does not,” Charlotte said automatically.
Harriet shrugged. “Close enough.”
Even Irene laughed at that. Charlotte tried to appear stern, but amusement tugged at her mouth despite herself. Truly, her family possessed no proper fear of dukes whatsoever. Victor himself would likely be scandalized by how casually they spoke of him, though secretly she suspected he enjoyed their boldness more than he admitted.
Outside, London bustled louder as the carriage moved deeper into the crowded streets. Vendors called out prices for flowers and fruit whilst carts rattled over cobblestones in endless lines. The air smelled faintly of smoke, horses, and fresh bread from nearby bakeries. Charlotte watched the chaos through the window whilst her sisters resumed debating which shop deserved their custom first. The movement of the carriage had grown slower now due to the packed roads ahead.
