The Captivating Lady Charlotte (Regency Brides: A Legacy of Grace #2)(33)

“Thank you.”

Why didn’t the duke respond in kind? Mama was trying to make him feel welcome, but he seemed so aloof, so removed from anything like sociability. How dull could one man be?

Lord Fanshawe drew to her side. “Lady Charlotte, may I fill your plate?” He leaned closer. “I’m told I have excellent taste in knowing just what a young lady likes.”

Charlotte blinked. Did he intimate something else? She shook her head. How ridiculous!

“No? I assure you, I seek only to be of assistance.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Anything you prefer?”

“I love peaches. They are my favorite fruit.”

“It amazes me how many things we share in common.”

For a few minutes the room was filled with the clatter and bustle of filling of plates, during which she noticed that despite Mama’s insistence he go first, the duke had barely placed a thing on his plate. “Thank you, madam, but I ate earlier.”

Charlotte glanced down at her plate, filled to overflowing with pies, small cakes, and fruit—but no more pastries. She wasn’t exactly hungry either, but Robard cooked so exquisitely, it would be a shame to see his good efforts go to waste. She discreetly removed her gloves and placed them in her lap.

Henry and Fanshawe began a low-voiced conversation, leaving her to follow Mama’s lead and begin eating.

“So, Hartington,” Father said, his plate filled, “tell us what brings you to London.”

The duke returned his forkful of food to his plate. “My coachman remains unwell, and I remain unconvinced the doctor attending him has explored every avenue for success.”

“Ah, doctors.” Father nodded, shoving in a large piece of ham. “Who’d you have?”

“Dr. Lansbury.” The duke lifted his fork.

“Lansbury?”

At her father’s question, he placed the fork down again.

“Never heard of him,” continued Father.

A wisp of a smile crossed the duke’s face. “He is a local man.”

“Never trust local men. What would they know?”

“In my experience, I’ve found they usually know a great deal more than those from the city.”

“Yet you’re here now,” Father said in a tone almost aggressive.

“Yes.”

At the duke’s bland look and quiet word, her father nodded, before finally returning his attention to his plate. Charlotte almost wanted to cheer as the duke finally lifted his fork and ate. His very mildness seemed to have a soothing effect on her father’s sensibilities, and made her wonder how often he employed such meek strategies.

Mama placed her fork down. “Well, that was delicious, if I do say so myself.”

Charlotte smiled inwardly. How typical of Mama to take credit when she hadn’t lifted a finger.

“I cannot believe the poor princess has broken off her engagement. Can you, sir?”

“Constance, don’t bother the man when he’s eating,” Father said, as if he had not done the very same.

“But the talk is all over town, isn’t it, Charlotte?” Mama said, with inclined head.

“Yes, Mama,” Charlotte said obediently.

“Poor thing. Not knowing her own mind. But there have been rumors, you know.”

“I try not to pay attention to rumors,” the duke said, without lifting his gaze from his plate.

“Oh! Well, yes, of course.”

For a moment, the room filled with the unspoken, like a dozen crows circling the room, silently shrieking about the duke and his wife, and that ridiculous rumor about a duel. No wonder he didn’t want to talk about the latest on-dit.

“Mother, don’t tease our guest with thoughts on Slender Billy,” said Henry. “Next you’ll be saying again you’d prefer the princess marry Gloucester.”

“Silly Billy,” interjected Fanshawe, with a grin.

“I beg your pardon, Duke,” Mama said with high dignity. “It is not my desire to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but your conversation does not discomfort per se. Truth be told, I find the situation rather sad.”

Charlotte paused.

Yes. She’d never realized it before, but the princess’s situation was sad. To be forced by one’s father to live apart from one’s mother. To have every move scrutinized and gossiped over in a thousand places. To have your choice sneered at by the very people who then curtsy and smile. She remembered back to her brief glimpse at the Queen’s drawing rooms. The princess was pretty, and by all accounts warmhearted, too. How sad she could not find happiness …

Something whispered that Princess Charlotte’s situation was not dissimilar to her own. That while she might live with her parents, their machinations meant happiness might forever elude her, too. She stifled the thought, lifting her chin, to see the duke’s dark eyes on her again.

She shivered.

“Charlotte, are you finished?”

“Almost, Mama.” Her mouth felt dry, like she needed something sweet, yet not the sickly flavor of the lemonade.

“Permit me.”

Before she knew it, the duke had placed a perfectly peeled peach on her plate. Her mouth watered. She swallowed. Found a smile. “Thank you. It’s just what I wanted.”