The Captivating Lady Charlotte (Regency Brides: A Legacy of Grace #2)(13)

“Charlotte, sit here.” Mama motioned to a seat at the small table. With space for twice as many as their family numbered, she hoped the extra places meant the guests she had suggested would arrive soon.

A waiter drew near, bowed, then offered the selections: chicken cooked in a chafing dish in front of them, wafer-thin slices of ham, salad, custards, cheese cakes, fresh fruits, and punch. As a concession to her birthday, a large cake was placed on the center of the table.

“Charlotte!”

She turned. “Lavinia! Lord Hawkesbury, you made it!”

After a round of bows, curtsies, and kissed cheeks, Lavinia said with an apologetic smile, “Forgive us, we were inadvertently delayed.”

“We head north tomorrow,” the earl said.

“To your estate?”

“Yes, but Lavinia was determined not to miss her favorite cousin’s birthday.”

“Favorite?” Henry said, with a mock glare at the countess. “You always told me I was your favorite.”

“Not all is as it appears, brother dear.”

He chuckled.

Lavinia and the earl were seated, the conversation soon picking up in pace and volume. Lavinia smiled across the table. “Does Vauxhall live up to your expectations?”

“It is like a dream!”

Lavinia laughed. “Have you seen the statue of Handel?”

“Trust my wife to notice the musicians.” The earl kissed Lavinia’s hand. “I’m afraid, Lady Charlotte, we shall be most fortunate if we can get her to leave, she loves her music so.”

“I have only been here once before,” Lavinia confided.

Sounds of merriment rippled from the boxes nearby, as waiters rushed from one party to the next. Beyond the supper box strolled a myriad of people, all intent on enjoying themselves, if their smiles and laughter were any indication. Charlotte soaked it in: so many different people from so many different walks of life. At a distance, the sounds of the orchestra continued, familiar English melodies such as “Sally in our Alley” and “Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill.”

“I know another sweet lass who might be described as a rose without a thorn,” a deep voice drawled.

Charlotte turned, joy coiling within. “Lord Markham!”

“The very same.” He bowed to her parents, the earl, Lavinia, and Henry, before picking up her hand. “May I say how lovely you appear tonight?”

Heat shivered at his touch. Words refused to form. She hoped her smile said enough.

He chuckled. “Never tell me I have robbed the beautiful maiden of her tongue?”

“Markham, if you are joining us, sit down. If not, then please return my sister’s vocal cords to their rightful owner.”

Lord Markham sat beside her, then offered a small posy of pink roses. “I trust this offering will appease and return your powers of speech?”

She drank in the delicate scent. “They’re beautiful.”

“Which is why they are apropos for you.”

Delight danced around her heart as the night progressed. This was excitement! This was glamour! Lord Markham was everything she’d ever dreamed: charming, romantic, exciting, and so, so handsome.

Partway through the meal, a whistle sounded.

“What is happening?”

Lord Markham leaned close, eyes glinting. “Wait a moment, dear heart.”

Her heart fluttered. Dear heart! Oh!

A second whistle sounded, then, as if in a magical dream, all the lamps adorning trees and colonnades were set aglow, hundreds of red and green and golden sparkling stars. “Oh …”

“It is breathtaking, is it not?”

Lord Markham’s voice behind her stirred her hair, sending another delightful shiver up her spine. Oh yes, her breath was well and truly taken, and not solely by the illuminations.

Not long after finishing their meal, a bell rang, and they followed the crowds to the Rotunda. The concert had concluded, and a dark curtain covered part of the structure. Around them, the cooling air and dusky shadows filled with whispers and soft laughter. Lord Markham stood nearby. Anticipation thrummed within. What other wonders could tonight possess?

The curtain lifted, revealing a miniature country tableau of waterfall, mill, and bridge. As various wagons and carriages passed across the stage, the cunning simulation of the sound of the wheels and rush of waters reinforced the appearance of veracity.

Charlotte was mesmerized. “It is all so marvelous!” She glanced over her shoulder. “Have you ever seen anything so pretty?”

Lord Markham smiled. “I believe so.”

The look in his eyes sent fire rushing along her cheeks, and she quickly returned her gaze to the rural scene. Surely he must hold her in some regard to say such things, to look at her that way. Her heart thrilled. Was this feeling akin to the love Lavinia felt for the earl?

The curtain descended, and the music recommenced. Mama murmured something and exchanged positions with Lord Markham, before saying something about needing a stroll. Placing Charlotte’s arm in hers, Mama led her along a path. “I trust you are enjoying your evening?”

“Oh, it has been everything wonderful!” Not just the spectacles she had witnessed, but this delightful, fluttery feeling—no, certainty!—that tonight would lead to something yet more magnificent.

Mama’s brow puckered. “I’m glad. But I cannot help feel Lord Markham is being a trifle obvious in his attentions. Do not encourage him too much, my dear. We do not want people getting the wrong impression.”