Waltzing With The Earl. Catherine Tinley

all moved to the door. At the last, the Earl turned to look at her, and his expression was strangely uncertain.

      ‘Come, Lord Shalford!’ Henrietta’s tone was imperious. ‘You shall travel in our carriage, for I must tell you more of my visit to Oxford.’

      Then they were gone.

      * * *

      Charlotte hoped they didn’t pity her. She imagined them all, travelling to Lady Cowper’s townhouse. Henrietta would be enjoying her triumph, while Aunt Buxted would be focused on gaining every possible advantage for her daughters. Mr Buxted would already be thinking of meeting his cronies in the card room, and wondering what would be offered at supper.

      Faith, with her kind heart, would not feel fully comfortable with Charlotte’s absence, but would be ably distracted by the charming Captain Fanton—and by the gentle Mr Foxley. As for the Earl—no doubt his attention would be fully claimed by the beautiful, wilful Henrietta.

      Charlotte went to the library, then to the salon. She was at a loss as to what to do. She felt strangely flat, which surprised her, for she had not thought herself so shallow that the loss of a ball should so affect her. She was not ready to sleep, and reading could not hold her attention. She tried to write a letter to Papa, but the words would not come, and she sat down her pen in frustration.

      After almost two hours of achieving nothing, she went to her room.

      Priddy helped her prepare for bed, and expressed her opinion on balls and Court presentations and on. ‘Old women who have forgotten what it is to be young. Mark my words: she only did it to keep you away from the young gentlemen!’

      ‘Oh, Priddy! You must not say such things. It will make me even more angry, for I fear you are right. But we may be wrong. Why, when Henrietta was angry about my riding with them Aunt Buxted did not support her.’

      Priddy snorted. ‘She’s a clever old bird. She has plans for her daughters and she will not brook opposition.’

      ‘But I am no opposition for her daughters. I have no wish for a husband, and I cannot match my cousins’ beauty.’

      ‘I do not understand how you can say you are not beautiful. You are no insipid yellow-haired milkmaid, it is true, but that is just a fashion. You have countenance, Miss Charlotte, and your good looks will last longer than Miss Buxted’s, mark my words.’

      ‘Oh, Priddy, I know your regard for me deceives you, but I thank you nevertheless.’

      Priddy shook her head. ‘That’s not it. And as for not wanting a husband—it is every girl’s wish to get a nice husband.’ She stared into the distance. ‘To have a proper home of your own and little ones.’

      ‘Even you, Priddy?’ Charlotte was curious.

      ‘I confess when I was young there was a man.’ Her eyes softened. ‘We were to be married. But he was carried off by a fever. It was not to be.’

      ‘Oh, Priddy! I’m so sorry.’ Impulsively, she hugged the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother to her since she had lost her own mama.

      ‘Now, now,’ said Priddy gruffly. ‘It was a long time ago. But if you get the chance at happiness you must take it. We none of us know how long we have on this earth.’

      Charlotte pondered Priddy’s words as she lay wide awake, listening to the sounds of the city at night—carriages rumbling, dogs barking, in the distance, some drunken singing. She knew better than most how easily lives could be snuffed out. Growing up as a war child, she had known many people to die—officers, foot soldiers and their wives—more often from illness and disease than from the heat of battle. She wondered if Captain Fanton, like many of the young men she had known, had felt the trauma of war and of loss.

      Her mind moved on from the Captain to his brother. The Earl had been kind tonight. Not arrogant at all. She remembered his cool grey eyes fixing upon hers and felt a strange warmth in her chest. It was altogether confusing, for he held young ladies in disdain, and the squabble between Henrietta and herself would only have strengthened his prejudice.

      Yet, surprisingly, her view of him was changing. Where she had seen arrogance and prejudice, she now saw warmth and compassion. Even more strange was this new feeling he had stirred in her. It was something like...affection, though there were other, stranger colours in it. It was a good feeling, though somewhat overshadowed by imagining them all at the ball.

      She pictured them all, dancing, laughing, talking, and felt...alone.