Page 53 of The Deceptive Earl

Charity put the fork aside and picked up her tea. She sipped it thoughtfully. “I mean the Poppys are not wealthy and have no titles, but they have a wonderful family that I would love to be a part of, much like I once hoped to be a part of your family, Amelia. We could have been like sisters if things had been different.”

“If things had been different,” Amelia agreed. “Truly, but you will always be my friend, Charity. We cannot choose our family but our friends are always our choice.”

“You say you are my friend, and I believe you, but it is so different now. Now that everyone is married, except you, Amelia, and you will soon be married. Oh what am I to do? I cannot be alone, Amelia. It terrifies me. I cannot be the maiden aunt. I have no brothers or sisters. I will be the poor relation in my cousin’s household and I cannot be a governess. I t would not suit me at all. You know my mother and I barely ever see eye to eye. Can you imagine us sharing an apartment in my cousin’s house?

“Then it is important that you marry,” Amelia said softly.

Charity shook her head.

“I know it is hard,” Amelia said. “Believe me. I know, but a woman alone in the world, even a daughter of a peer, is still a woman alone.”

“There is no one,” Charity said.

“What of the Lord Wentwell. You mentioned he aided you at the concert. He is rich, titled…You always said you would not marry a pauper. He certainly is not.”

“He is a rogue,” Charity said with disparity. She picked up the fork again, and put it down.

“So I have heard,” Amelia said. “But a handsome rogue, if a bit slight for my tastes, and somewhat of a dandy if I understand.”

“He is not a dandy,” Charity interrupted. “And not everyone judges a man by how many stone he weighs nor how strong he is. Just because Samuel Beresford is a behemoth does not mean everyone thinks such a large man is handsome.”

“So you do think Wentwell is handsome,” Amelia said.

“I admitted no such thing,” Charity said. “He is a cad and a reprobate. Despite her harsh words, Wentwell knew the truth of her father’s illness and had kept his own council. Disregarding their quarrel, he had come to her aid at the concert. He had not even accepted thanks for the deed. Instead, her mother had further reprimanded him. Charity reminded herself that despite his kind action the man could not be a gentleman and have thrown over Miss Danbury.

“Lord Wentwell has ruined Miss Danbury,” Charity said, her anger at the man reigniting. “Then once he achieved his ends, he cast her aside.”

“Those are heavy claims to lay at his feet.”

“All theTonknows it,” Charity said as she sipped her tea.

“As they knew the truth of my father?” Amelia asked.

That gave Charity pause.

Amelia sighed. “Ruined or no, why are you so distressed over the state of Miss Danbury? It is regrettable yes, but you seem to take Lord Wentwell’s supposed involvement as a personal affront. My dear Charity, one might think you were jealous of the man’s attentions.”

“Jealous!” Charity scoffed. “Hardly. I am relieved at any distance I can manage,” she said more for herself than Amelia. “I am merely angered at his audacity.”

Amelia gave her a slow, pointed look and Charity quailed under her friend’s knowing gaze and she picked up her now empty cup to hold because it gave her something to do.

“Perhaps I have developed a poor habit,” Charity admitted with a shamed expression. “But it is not what you might think.”

“Oh?” Amelia replied.

”I only meant that I should not allow his misdeeds to plague me so, or allow myself to wish that he might be better.”

“Do you wish him better?’ Lady Amelia did not seem surprised by her friend’s words.

Charity hoped that Amelia might mistake her blush for the effect of the heat of the day. If Lord Wentwell had been a different sort of character, then he had every other attribute that would draw Charity to him. However, his flaws could not be overlooked and so she would try not to imagine a different, more respectable version of the man.

“I always wish the best of everybody, Amelia,” she replied “For his own sake, and Miss Danbury’s at the very least.” Charity sat her cup on the table with an unladylike clink in her saucer. “If Lord Wentwell had any gentlemanly feeling, he would right the wrong and offer for Miss Danbury.” The words dropped into Charity’s heart like blocks of ice.

“But then he would be lost to you,” Amelia said softly.

Charity balled the napkin up in her lap. And there was the rub. Charity realized with a start that she was jealous of Miss Danbury, not of her position, obviously, but of the idea of her as first in Lord Wentwell’s affections. That another woman may have enjoyed the full effect of his wit, his smile, his burning green gaze, his kisses, his touch wounded her deeply. The kiss that Charity had so longed to take back in the streets of Bath taunted her, and she fairly burned in her seat, whether from anger or desire, she did not know.

“It matters not. I am looking for an honest man, and a kind one. I do not think Lord Wentwell is either.”