Page 73 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“Oh?” Henry sat up.

“Bobby McCale,” Oliver said, his smile triumphant. “He’s agreed to talk to you.”

“You’re joking?”

“I would never.”

Bobby McCale was Henry’s most important tenant. He leased more land from Henry than anyone else, and from what Henry had learned, he was looked up to and respected by the majority of his other tenants. So far, he’d avoided Henry like the plague, which was why Oliver had been out tonight, a final effort to track him down and talk him around.

“How?”

“Because I’m that charming.” Oliver shrugged. “And why are you surprised?”

Henry grinned as he rose. “Mother, dinner was lovely, but I’m afraid I have to?—”

“Not tonight,” Oliver cut him off. “Tomorrow evening. I’m waiting for him to confirm an exact time and place, but my feeling is it’s going to be somewhere remote and out of sight. You might not be surprised to hear that he doesn’t want word getting out that the two of you are talking.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “You would think that he doesn’t work for me.”

“That’s not the way he sees it.”

“Set it up,” Henry said to Oliver, feeling himself grow excited. If this worked, which he was certain that it would, come this time tomorrow, all his problems might be behind him. Finally. “Anywhere, anytime. Whatever he needs.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” his mother pointed out.

Henry turned to her and frowned. “What?”

A raised eyebrow. “Your wife. The ball. A promise you made to attend it with her. It’s tomorrow night, yes?”

“Oh…” Henry’s stomach twisted. “That.”

“You can’t postpone,” Oliver said quickly before Henry had a chance to suggest it. “You have no idea how hard it was to convince McCale to agree to this meeting. You try and postpone, and it’s as good as slapping him across the face. You’ll be done.”

“Your wife, dear,” his mother said.

Henry groaned and rubbed his eyes as he considered what to do. What he had to do. The thought of canceling on Charlotte wasn’t one that appealed to him, and he felt sick just imagining how she might take it. After all they had been through, after how far they had come, it would destroy her.

But on the other hand… this meeting wasn’t something he could simply pass up. He’d have time to make it up to Charlotte. He’d have time to explain to her and make her see reason. The same could not be said of Bobby McCale.

“I’ll see him tomorrow,” Henry said to Oliver, who sighed with relief. “And, Mother.” He turned to his mother, who had fixed him with a look of disbelief and just a little bit of disappointment. “If you might find me a quill and parchment? I have a letter to write.”

Charlotte would forgive him. Surely, she would. This was just one ball missed, and it wasn’t as if it was the event of the Season. Truly, she would have no reason not to forgive him.

He told this to himself over and over again. But still, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that he could not ignore, one that told him that the consequences of this action weren’t to be solved with something as simple as a letter. Likely, he’d be paying for this for some time to come.

ChapterTwenty-Four

The grand hall was even more beautiful than Charlotte could have imagined. Walking into it for the first time, taking in the splendor and majesty and opulence of its design, she found her mouth hanging open, even if she had tried to prepare herself mentally in advance not to do so. The colors of the gowns that the women wore, a veritable rainbow before her eyes. The sharp suits of their male counterparts, each looking smart and collected and dapper in their own right. The scores of footmen wearing white jackets, the wreathes and floral arrangements and silk banners hanging from the walls and ceilings, crystal chandeliers, ice statues, marble colonnades, music that was soft and enchanting and had her hips swaying as if on compulsion. Oh yes, it was a sight to behold.

For five days, Charlotte had looked forward to attending tonight’s event. For five days, she had counted the hours and minutes, unable to sleep at times, such was her excitement. For five whole days, she had prepared for it, choosing an outfit, deciding on a hairstyle, and checking to see who was coming while making sure to inform everyone that she and Henry would be there. Five days of anticipation, and it was all for naught.

“There she is!!

Charlotte heard the voice call to her and recoiled at the sound. Her first instinct was to ignore it. Maybe to even turn and run? Anything was better than suffering through what she knew was about to come.

“Charlotte!” Agnes cried again. Dressed in a light pink gown, she swept across the hall, waving ecstatically as if the two were the best of friends. “I knew you would make it.”

With no choice, Charlotte put on a brave face. She beamed with delight at the sight of Agnes coming for her, standing tall, fluttering her eyelashes, doing her best to look the picture of happiness. “Good evening, Agnes.”

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