“No, not exactly.” Frederica forced a smile. Charlotte could see it was forced in the way her friend struggled to maintain it.
“You should be honest,” Dorothy urged, her tone much more somber and serious than before. “If you have no liking for this man, you do not need to entertain his advances. Brush them aside.”
“I wish I could.” Frederica looked down into her teacup. “My parents are quite keen on him. They must think we’ll make a good match.”
“Or a good financial advancement,” Dorothy said knowingly as Charlotte agreed with her.
“Finance should not matter,” Charlotte added tightly. It felt wrong to counsel Frederica in such a way, when she knew herself, that all she wanted in a match was to be financially comfortable. “Your happiness matters more. Talk to your parents about him. If they know you object to his suit, they will surely retract their blessing.”
“I hope so.” Though Frederica did not sound convinced about it.
“Let us know if he continues to bother you. We shall send Stephen to give him a warning,” Dorothy elbowed Frederica as she spoke. “He will surely scare him off. If only my brother was back.”
“Your brother?” Frederica squeaked, looking sharply around at Dorothy.
“Well, he and Stephen could go together then to warn him off. You know they are the greatest of friends, do almost everything together. If he wasn’t traveling at this time, I’m sure he would have offered his help as well.”
“Oh, yes. I see what you mean.” Frederica seemed to take a rather long time over taking her next sip of tea.
Charlotte stared at her friend. The mention of Allan had certainly changed her manner.
“You will tell us if this gentleman is bothering you, will you not?” Dorothy persisted, laying a hand comfortingly over Frederica’s own.
“I will. I promise.” Frederica smiled. “And you,” she shifted her attention to Charlotte, “just be careful of the Duke of Rodstone.”
“Be careful of him? I think it’s wonderful!” Dorothy declared happily, serving up more slices of cake for them all.
“Wonderful?” Charlotte repeated in surprise. “Whatever for?”
“Well, you are getting some money in order to build up your dowry, and in the meantime, you get to spend a lot of time with a man who drives you quite mad.” She wriggled with delight.
“I still do not have the pleasure of understanding you. You do get the fact I do not like this man’s lack of propriety, don’t you?”
“I used to say I did not like Stephen,” Dorothy paused long enough to put a bite of cake in her mouth. “I still married him.”
“I am not going to marry the Duke of Rodstone.” As Dorothy laughed and Frederica looked even more perplexed than before, Charlotte stayed perfectly rigid.
An image entered her mind of walking down a church aisle ready to meet the Duke of Rodstone. He held out a hand toward her, and when she tripped on one of the flagstones, he swept her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the altar, as he had carried her that night in the garden.
A warmth spread through her and excitement she quickly tried to dampen.
Something is wrong with me.
Charlotte gazed at the gown longingly in the window. It was very beautiful indeed, sage green satin, cinched under the bust on the mannequin, and then it fell to the floor in soft folds. Itwasn’t excessive, there was no wild lace or embroidery, but it was elegant in its simplicity. When she sighed for the want of it, she laughed at herself.
It had been so long since Charlotte had had a new gown, she could scarcely remember the feel of putting one on. The gown shop before her was the modiste’s they had always gone to over the years, not that Charlotte had asked for a gown for some time. The day she had heard of her father’s financial troubles, she lost all interest in buying anything, in the interest of saving her parents some money.
Maybe someday, I could have a new gown again.
She found it hard to shift her gaze from the window as her mother and younger sister stepped outside. Although Rose was old enough to be called a young woman, she pouted like a child as Margaret took her hand and led her out of the shop toward Charlotte.
“It is all we can afford, Rose,” Margaret hissed under her breath, warily looking about the street. Like Charlotte, Margaret blushed madly, out of fear of being overheard by other members of thetonwandering Covent Garden on this sunny day. The good weather seemed to have brought everyone out, and scarcely a soul didn’t turn to look at Margaret as she was heard to chastise Rose. “I am sorry. I wish I could buy you more.”
Rose continued to pout, glassy eyed, as she now realized that she too had caused a scene in the street.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Rose whispered.
“I know.” Margaret laid a hand on her shoulder.
