Page 23 of Charming Sir Charles
It was all very well for Meg to counsel pouncing. But a man needed to get within arm’s length of the lady before he could take action.
He’d led a fortunate life. Everything he wanted fell to him without undue effort. Born the only son to an adoring family with four older sisters. An assured and extravagant fortune. Clever enough to thrive at school. Strong. Athletic. Cultivated. Confident in society.
The only prize that hadn’t tumbled into his hands merely for the asking was the only person important enough to make every other blessing seem insignificant. Damn it all to hell and back.
When he’d decided he wanted Sally Cowan, he’d assumed getting her would be quick and uncomplicated. Now several months into his pursuit, he could almost laugh at his delusions. If he wasn’t so devilish unhappy, and thwarted, and bewildered.
And time, which had seemed so plentiful a couple of months ago, became his enemy. The season had only a few weeks left to run. Then as most of the ton did, Sally returned home for the summer.
The house party was at an end. Charles stood with Sally and Meg on Shelton Abbey’s front steps, waiting for the carriages to be brought around. West and Helena stood arm in arm behind him, ready to farewell the last of their guests. Caro and Stone and the children had left an hour ago. Brandon and Carey had just ridden away to another house party, a county away in Northamptonshire.
But instead of Sally’s carriage rolling into view, her coachman rushed up.
“What is it, Barton?” Sally asked, stepping down to the gravel to meet him. The small group of servants waiting to return to London craned their necks to see what was happening.
“My lady, I’m sorry, but the right front wheel has splintered. Be blowed if I know how it happened. I checked everything last night, and it was right as rain.”
“Oh, dear,” Sally said in dismay. “How dreadful.”
“It will take most of the day to set it right, which means we won’t make London tomorrow, even if we get off this afternoon.”
“Sally, you’re welcome to stay until it’s fixed,” Helena said.
Meg’s annoyed glance at her hostess strengthened Charles’s conviction that she’d taken the matter of her aunt’s future into her own hands. “But I’m engaged for the Sedgemoors’ ball the night we get back, and I do so want to wear my new blue gown.”
“If we don’t make it, it’s not the end of the world,” Sally said.
Meg looked sulky. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“Then you’ll hear all about the ball afterward anyway.” Sally sent Meg a quelling glare, then turned to Helena. “Thank you, but you’ve had your fill of guests this last week.”
“Not at all,” Helena said.
West smiled at Sally. “You’re no trouble.”
Meg shot Charles a meaningful look, confirming his suspicion that the broken wheel was no accident. A long trip back to London? Sally couldn’t avoid him if they were on the road together, and he’d be on the lookout for his chance to get her alone.
He seized his moment and stepped down to stand beside Sally. “Why don’t you both come with me? I’d appreciate the company. That way, your coachman can make his repairs and leave when he’s ready.”
Meg’s “Oh, how delightful that would be,” clashed with Sally’s “We couldn’t put you to such trouble.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Charles said smoothly.
When Sally turned pale, he moved to catch her arm. For a sizzling moment, he touched her. How could she be so cold to him when she felt so warm?
After these last frustrating days, his patience with her skittishness was rapidly running out. It was time she understood what he wanted of her. Somewhere on this trip, he’d say his piece, and if she sent him away, at least he’d know where he stood.
“How kind of you to offer, Sir Charles,” Helena said, with a glint in her eye that hinted she was awake to Meg’s strategems and meant to promote them.
“Helena, you said it would be all right to stay until the repair is made,” Sally said with a desperation that made Charles grit his teeth.
“Of course you’re welcome, but what a pity for Meg to miss the Sedgemoor ball,” Helena said. “It promises to be the highlight of the season.”
“Aunt, please?” Meg looked as deprived as a pretty girl wearing a traveling dress in the first stare of fashion could manage.
“It would be no inconvenience, Lady Norwood,” Charles said. Unwilling admiration at Meg’s cheek vied with curiosity about what she planned.
“Aunt, it makes the most sense,” Meg said. “What can possibly be your objection?”
