Page 43 of Charming Sir Charles
“My mind is made up.” Sally turned away to find her bonnet. She tied it on, then opened the door, letting the moonlight flood in. “Shall we go?”
Feeling like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, Charles collected his hat. He’d experienced such extremes of emotion since he’d come into this house. Right now, he hoped to God he never saw the lovely little hunting box again. He had a bloody good mind to demolish it, so it lay in ruins along with his every hope of happiness.
With the grim awareness that once they leftSans Souci, Sally was lost to him forever, he lifted the lantern. As Sally headed outside, he offered his arm to Meg.
“Sir Charles, I wanted…” Meg muttered under her breath, as she hooked her hand around his bent elbow.
“So did I, Meg,” he said in a bleak voice. “But I made a complete mess of everything.”
She looked up at him hopefully. “But surely you can fix it?”
He watched Sally trudge across the gravel to the carriage. She usually rushed at life with a verve he found irresistible. But tonight he couldn’t mistake the slump of her shoulders and the way every step seemed an effort.
“No,” he said in a flat voice that concealed the rage and devastation in his heart. “No, some things are broken forever.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sally sighed and put aside her embroidery. She’d never been much good at needlework, and she’d only picked it up this afternoon because every other distraction had failed to…distract her. She lifted the cup of tea her butler had poured half an hour ago.
“Ugh.” It was ice cold. She blinked back tears. Over the last week, everything made her cry, even something as trivial as a cold cup of tea.
“For pity’s sake, you look as down in the dumps as Meg does.” Wearing a disapproving expression, Morwenna appeared in the drawing room’s doorway. “This house has turned into a dratted mausoleum lately.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little blue-deviled,” Sally said, mustering a smile for her friend. “You, on the other hand, look marvelous. Is that a new dress?”
She struggled to sound the way she used to, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Even in her own ears, the attempt was an abject failure.
Still, it was cheering to see Morwenna in such fine fettle. Tonight her friend wore a rich azure taffeta gown that matched her lovely eyes, and her silky, ruler-straight black hair was dressed with pearls and roses and ribbons. Sally recalled the grieving wraith from last November who had reluctantly agreed to join in the London adventure.
“Yes, it is. Lord Garson is taking me to the opera.”
“Lucky you.” Sally glanced out and noticed that twilight had crept in. She must have been sitting in here brooding alone for hours.
Another gray day had passed, with her barely aware of anything beyond her own wretchedness. Every day lately was gray, whatever the weather was like.
The worst of her unhappiness over losing Charles would fade with time. That was how life worked, wasn’t it? Nothing lasted forever. They could now get on with forgetting each other.
In the meantime, she just had to endure. She’d endured a disagreeable marriage. Surely her love for someone she’d known a mere matter of weeks would eventually change from present anguish to wistful memory.
Morwenna came into the room and sank into a brocade chair opposite the sofa where Sally sat. “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”
“I’m not dressed to go out.” She indicated the sprigged muslin she’d put on this morning.
“Garson won’t be here for another half hour. You have plenty of time to change.”
“No, thank you. I feel like a quiet night.” At the opera, she’d have to pretend she was still witty, sparkly, insouciant Sally Cowan. Worse, at the opera, she was likely to see Sir Charles Kinglake. She’d rather take her embroidery needle and poke out her eye than risk that.
Impatience lit Morwenna’s eyes to sapphire. “You’ve felt like a quiet night ever since you got back from Shelton Abbey a week ago.”
Sally shrugged. “Now I’m not chaperoning Meg to any parties, there’s no great necessity for me to dance the night away.”
“Do you really mean to send her home tomorrow?”
“She’s lucky I didn’t send her home the day we returned to London.”
Sally had relented enough to let Meg stay to say goodbye to her friends. Sally had even allowed her to attend the theatre, a musicale, and a ball – although not the one given by the new Duchess of Sedgemoor. She didn’t want people commenting on the girl’s sudden withdrawal from society, and perhaps seeking some scandalous reason to explain it.
Like a coward, instead of accompanying her niece, she’d made sure Fenella or Helena kept her on a short rein. But given Meg’s continuing flood of apologies, she was almost sure the girl had learned her lesson and wouldn’t do anything outrageous.
