The Captivating Lady Charlotte (Regency Brides: A Legacy of Grace #2)(21)
“I beg your pardon, Hartington. We seem to have become distracted. Shall we return? I’m sure Lavinia would have returned from her visit by now.”
“Her father must miss her lively spirits.” He’d met the reverend two days ago at services, followed by a meal, during which he’d come to appreciate where Lavinia got her intelligent humor.
“He’s getting old. I do not know how she will cope when he passes.”
“It is never easy to lose a parent.”
William thought back to when his parents had died. He’d been partway through a lecture at Cambridge when his studies were interrupted by word they had been killed in a carriage accident. The news had instantly propelled him to the dukedom, his title inevitable, but the manner in which he received it still felt a heavy price to pay. So much to remain forever unresolved.
They returned to the Hall to see a carriage unloading.
Hawkesbury muttered beside him, “I didn’t think they would come so soon.” He glanced across, offering a half smile. “Forgive me. It seems the guests we expected next week have come rather earlier.”
A footman helped a golden head alight. William’s heart tingled. He peered more closely. “That is Lavinia’s cousin?”
“Yes. And her aunt. Apparently soon was not soon enough to escape the season.” Hawkesbury drew nearer as the marchioness exited the carriage. “Ah, Lady Exeter. How wonderful to see you again.”
She permitted her cheek to be kissed, dark blue eyes flicking to William before returning to Hawkesbury. “I cannot admit the trip has been to my inclination—”
“And yet you’re here so soon,” the earl murmured.
“Nor has it been especially comfortable. I really must speak to Exeter about ordering a new conveyance. It is beyond time. Oh! Duke. What a surprise.”
William offered a small bow. “Lady Exeter.”
“You know my daughter, of course,” she waved a hand at the young lady whose mulish expression suggested the trip had definitely not been to her liking, either.
“Lady Charlotte.”
His bow was met with a small curtsy and muttered, “Duke.”
“And how is it that we might be so fortunate as to be in your company, sir?”
“How indeed?” The earl smiled, as if through gritted teeth.
“I know we are a trifle earlier than planned, Hawkesbury, but we simply could not stay in London a moment longer. So hot, you know.” She fanned herself vigorously, as if stranded in the deserts of Africa.
Her daughter’s gaze narrowed.
“While it is indeed a delight to see you again, madam, forgive my assumption it was to Hawkesbury House we were to await you,” the earl said, with a curving brow.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh. Well, you must know that for me to stay there when the dowager is at home is simply quite out of the question!” She smiled at William. “You might not be aware of a certain strain that exists between our family and that of Hawkesbury’s.”
“I prefer to avoid gossip, madam,” he said quietly.
“Lady Exeter,” the earl said, his look darkening.
She hurried on. “And Lavinia was so kind to invite us, and I just knew she would not mind us coming a few days in advance. So here we are. And how fortuitous to have the pleasure of your company, Duke!”
“Alas, my visit concludes tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“I have responsibilities in Bristol and at home.”
“Of course.” Disappointment ringed the marchioness’s eyes, though he thought he detected an air of relief around her daughter’s.
The thought that his departure might relieve the young lady brought a disconcerting twist to his heart. And fresh determination to stifle this ridiculous attraction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHARLOTTE FORKED in another piece of delicious venison. If she ate, perhaps she wouldn’t be required to talk. And apart from Lavinia, and possibly the earl, she had no desire to talk to anyone at the table.
Mama eyed her with an upraised brow, forcing her chewing to slow and her gaze to lower. She peeked underneath her lashes across the table to where the duke sat, bemusement on his face as he endeavored to answer the questions Mama thrust at him.
Now she could see him more closely, she noticed the shadows marking his grief from two months ago had lightened. Yet his eyes remained as disconcerting as ever, especially when accompanied by the twist to his lips, which made his expression seem wry and self-deprecating. No, she thought, sipping her lemonade, while holding a manner somewhat sardonic, he seemed rather mild for a duke of the king’s empire, his voice and opinions everything unassuming. How absurd for anyone to believe such a meek man had engaged in a duel!
Her gaze found her mother’s, whose less-than-subtle head jerks suggested she wanted Charlotte to converse with the duke. Her fingers clenched in her lap. She might feel sorry for him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to speak with him!
Her gaze lowered to avoid any more of her mother’s mute messages. How preposterous were Mama’s machinations? Changing their plans to immediately vacate London upon receipt of Lavinia’s letter, a letter containing the news of the duke’s visit to Gloucestershire. What did Mama think would happen? That Charlotte would forget Lord Markham? That the duke would be enchanted by her less-than-sparkling conversation? She had no wish to speak with him; neither did he seem keen to speak with her. The one time he’d addressed her this evening was to say something about how well she looked after the long journey from London, which Mama had quickly responded to by commenting to the effect that Charlotte always travelled well.