I would be honored if you would join me this Saturday at my townhouse in London for a soiree. It shall be an intimate dinner with a few friends, including the Viscount Crampton, and the Duke and Duchess of Stotbury, who I believe are good friends of yours, too.
Please do come. It would mean much to me if you did.
Your friend,
Gerard
He had not signed the letter with his title, though the Duke of Rodstone’s emblem was clearly visible at the top of the page.
“He’s in London,” Charlotte whispered, certain for a moment this was completely impossible. “But he has only just left for Scotland. He has only been gone a few weeks at most. Perhaps a month.”
“It seems he cannot stay away from London,” David remarked, lifting his champagne to his lips. “I wonder why.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw her mother make a wild hand gesture in the air. Clearly, she was telling her husband to be quiet, but by the time Charlotte had turned back to face her mother, she was smiling, her hand casually scratching the side of her cheek.
“We cannot go,” Charlotte said at once. Her gut argued against it. How could she possibly go to a dinner at Gerard’s house? How could she smile and make easy conversation, sat in the very room that the two of them had kissed? The very room where he had told her he would never marry, and that she was not the woman who could ever change his mind?
“Why not?” Margaret said, the smile falling flat from her face. She took the letter from Charlotte’s grasp. “The duke pleads with us to attend. In fact, he is almost insistent about us being there if you read the letter carefully.”
“He is a man who is always insistent in tone, but he can’t always be given what he wants.” Charlotte was dismissive, reaching for her own champagne.
“Charlotte,” David said with a small smile. “You speak like the Duke of Rodstone is a child that needs to be reprimanded.” He cast a glance toward Rose and Harry. Rose looked indignant, sitting tall in her seat, and Harry just shrugged, hardly minding being reprimanded at all.
“I just do not think it wise if we abide by his demands all the time.” Charlotte was quite determined not to go. She would go back to Cornwall if it came to it, racing all the way there in a carriage just to avoid coming face to face with Gerard again.
“It would be rude if we do not go,” Margaret pointed out. Charlotte flinched, angling her head around to face her mother. Clearly, her mother knew exactly what to say to pull at Charlotte’s weak points. “Think of what people would say if wedid not go after such a particular invitation? He has even invited your good friend Dorothy to go. He clearly wishes for you to feel welcome. Could you really refuse and have it not look rude?”
Charlotte didn’t answer but chewed her lip. Slowly, she took the letter back from her mother. Her stomach felt like it somersaulted in her body as she looked down at Gerard’s handwriting. The last time he had written to her, he was asking for her to come to another lesson. There was no sign of any such familiarity now in the letter before her, though her mother was right. Gerard had shown quite clearly in the letter that he was very keen indeed to have them there.
“I could unfortunately have a headache that night,” Charlotte whispered. “I might not be able to go.”
“Then we shall have to make sure you don’t drink anymore champagne between now and then,” David said, swiping her glass out of her grasp. “To reduce the chances of such a headache.”
“Father.” Charlotte tried to get the glass back, but he put it well out of her reach.
“What would your aunt say? Oh, think of it,” Margaret exclaimed with a dramatic tone. “I’d have my sister here tomorrow outraged that I had turned down the dinner invitation of a duke, would I not?”
“You were just saying we shouldn’t listen to all of Aunt Susan’s lessons,” Charlotte reminded her mother coolly.
“Perhaps not, but some of them are important,” Margaret said with a small smile. “So, Charlotte, shall we be rude and turn down the invitation?” She tried to take the letter from Charlotte’s grasp, but involuntarily, Charlotte held onto the invitation tighter, refusing to let it go.
Gerard wrote this. He wrote it to me as much as my parents.
“No, we shall not be that rude,” Charlotte relented, her shoulders slumping a little.
“Sit straight dear, you’ll make your back sore.”
Alarmed at the change in her mother, Charlotte whipped her head around so fast, she cricked her neck. Rose and Harry fell about laughing as David clapped his hands together warmly.
“Wonderful. I shall write to the duke and tell him we’ll join him for dinner on Saturday.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Gerard was restless as he stood in his drawing room, constantly looking about the room.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” the Duke of Stotbury asked, leaning toward him. “You look like a man ready to run at a moment’s notice.”
“Och, do I?” Gerard said uncertainly.
