He began the ascent up the hill towards Seton Hall, feeling a pang of loneliness as he approached the grand house which dominated the skyline. If only his father were there to share a glass of brandy with before retiring for the night. His father had never been a man to speak much of his feelings, and Luke suspected that he would have thought rather poorly of all these goings on, but his father could always be counted on to give him good advice, and he felt sorely in need of it now.
And he could not even talk to Mark, his closest friend, since he knew nothing of the secret arrangement with Charlotte. He was alone with his thoughts and feelings and found that he did not like it. Perhaps it would not be so bad to have a wife to come home to, after all. A wife and a family to fill his home with noise and laughter.
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Now was not the time for sentimental thoughts. He had to think about how to break the news to Charlotte without breaking her poor heart.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Charlotte felt a nagging pang of anxiety as their carriage made its way down the long driveway towards the Smetherington’s home. She wished, ardently that she could be the kind of young lady who looked forward to a ball with simple joy, anticipation of pleasure, and nothing more. But she always felt a hint of dread, and tonight it was worse than ever because she knew that the Duke would have news for her. He had said he was going to seek out Lord Harry and try to find out what was really going on, and she had no reason to believe that he would not have done what he promised. He had always kept his word until now, so why would this be any different?
She chewed her lip as the carriage drew to a halt outside the grand entrance, a lump of anxiety forming in her throat. A footman appeared immediately to hand them out of the carriage. She held back for a moment, allowing her stepmother and stepsister to climb out first. The viscountess would disapprove if the Hervey sisters entered the ballroom before her.
Martha, still inside the carriage with her, glanced at her quickly before moving to the door. “All will be well, sister,” she whispered. “I think you can trust the Duke, more than…” She hesitated. “More than many other gentlemen,” she finished. Both sisters knew they had to be careful when talking about Lord Harry, even when they seemed to be in a private space. The faintest whiff of scandal and the ton would descend like vultures on a dying animal.
Charlotte nodded. “I hope you are right,” she replied before climbing out into the chill evening air. The autumn was rapidly transforming into winter, and she pulled her shawl around her shoulders. It was her favorite time of year, but the clothes that young ladies were forced to wear for social occasions were not exactly practical in the cold weather.
They headed inside, and in a few moments, they were entering the ballroom. Whenever a new party arrived at a ball, everyone would turn and look, but Charlotte knew that the eyes on them were as critical as ever. Their stepmother had stuck to her word and not allowed Charlotte and her sister to choose their own dresses, so they were wearing the usual garish, old-fashioned gowns, and they stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the other more demurely dressed young ladies of the ton.
But Charlotte held her head up high and led her sister across the room to where they would find some refreshments. She did not care what people thought anymore. She had nothing to lose now after Lord Harry’s announcement of his engagement. And she found herself, amongst all the angst and anxiety, looking forward to the opportunity to spend a little time with the Duke, whatever news he had to break to her about his meeting with Lord Harry. She glanced around the room a little nervously. She could not see him. Surely he would be there, though? He had promised. And he had never yet broken a promise to her.
Just at that moment, she felt the lightest of touches on her arm. She turned around, and there he was, the Duke of Seton, at her elbow, with two glasses of wine in his hands, his piercing blue eyes sparkling as they met hers.
“I have been waiting for you, Miss Hervey,” he said with a broad smile. “And Miss Martha, too, of course.” He handed them the glasses of wine with a flourish. “A ballroom without the presence of the Miss Herveys is a dull room indeed.”
“Your Grace, you do talk such nonsense,” Charlotte said, surprising herself as she let out a giggle. She had gone from being tense and anxious to relaxed and happy in a matter of moments, simply because he had appeared next to her.
“Indeed, Miss Hervey, I must protest. I was just saying to Lord Miller that the ball cannot be considered to have started until the two brightest jewels of the ton have arrived.” The Duke scanned the room. “I wonder where Miller has got to. I know he was most keen to claim the first dance of the evening with Miss Martha.”
Martha blushed furiously but said nothing. Charlotte allowed herself a smile in the Duke’s direction. She could tell that he was trying hard to make both herself and her sister feel comfortable, but she had a sense that he was trying a little too hard. He must have bad news for her. She wondered how long it would be before he was able to break it to her.
* * *
Luke could tell that she didn’t really believe him, but he had, in fact, been waiting for Charlotte to arrive, feeling her absence most keenly. He’d had to work quite hard to avoid the advances of the various matrons of the ton, keen to get their daughters’ dance cards filled up with eligible names. He knew that his name was top of their list of most desirable partners, but he did not want to play along tonight. He was too consumed with worry about how Charlotte was going to take the news about Lord Harry.
And then she had appeared with her sister. As usual, they had entered the room following behind Charlotte’s stepmother and stepsister, who smiled and simpered at everyone as they arrived. Charlotte and Martha held their heads high as they entered, but he noticed that Charlotte did not make eye contact with any of the people who were staring at her. She had led Martha straight over to the corner of the room where refreshments were being served. Charlotte obviously had her methods, her proven strategies, to get through events such as this. And perhaps she was even more anxious than usual tonight.
And now he was by her side, trying to make her smile, to make her laugh. He realized with a jolt that her smile was the thing he most wanted to see in all the world. But the moment he told her about Lord Harry, he knew that it would vanish.
He was relieved when Lord Miller finally reappeared, all affable smiles. He led a blushing Martha off to the dancefloor, leaving him alone with Charlotte.
“Would you like to dance, Miss Hervey?” he asked her.
He saw that her eyes were scanning the room. His heart twisted a little at the thought that she was standing next to him, yet looking for another. But, of course, she would be seeking out Lord Harry.
She turned to him after a moment. “I do not wish to dance just now. Thank you, Your Grace.”
He decided then and there that he needed to get it over with.
“Charlotte, I am going to step outside into the garden for a moment. I need some fresh air,” he said in a low voice, looking at her intently. He hoped that she would understand his meaning. They could not be seen to be going outside together, but they also could not have the conversation that they needed to have within earshot of the gossips of the ton, those vultures who were always circling overhead, on the hunt for tidbits of information, the slightest hint of a scandal.
She dropped a curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. He knew, then, that she understood.
He turned on his heel and crossed the room, slipping out of the ballroom and down a corridor that he knew led toward a sheltered garden at the back of the house. He hoped that she would follow him and be able to work out where he had gone. It was risky, meeting up outside, but he did not feel that he had any other choice. He had to speak to her alone.
He paced the shrubbery anxiously for a few minutes, waiting for her to emerge from the house. He did not have long to wait. She appeared through the door, her shawl around her shoulders, and walked across the lawn towards him, looking somewhat furtively around her as she did so.
He thought he saw her shiver and cursed himself for not thinking of the cold. These poor young ladies had to wear such ludicrously impractical clothes in the colder months! But still, he had not been able to think of an alternative. If they were caught alone together in some corner of the house, that would be disastrous for both of them.
“Miss Hervey, you are cold,” he said. “I am sorry, I cannot even offer my cloak for you to refuse, as is your usual response.”
