The Truth about the Rogue (Whispers of the Ton #2)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

“ I do not feel as though this mask is adequate enough, Mama.”

Charlotte said nothing, looking away as her sister fussed with the ribbons of the mask. Ever since the previous afternoon, she had lost herself in a pool of sorrow, embarrassment, and upset, made all the worse by the knowledge that Lord Kentmore had left the gardens the moment that she had looked at him, and had chosen, thereafter, neither to write to her nor come to call. She could not imagine what it was that he had thought upon hearing her speech. She could not bring herself to consider what he had thought of her statement about him. She had said so many things and yes, all of them were quite true, but all the same, she could not imagine what it was that he had felt in hearing her say them all so bluntly.

“Are you quite well, Charlotte?”

A little surprised, Charlotte looked at her mother as they waited in line to greet the host of the masquerade ball.

“Yes, Mama.”

“You have been rather quiet the last two days.”

Charlotte offered a vague smile.

“I have had something weighing on my mind, Mama, that is all.”

Lady Morton leaned closer to her.

“Might it be that Lord Kentmore is the one you think on? I have noticed his attentions to you becoming a little more determined, my dear.”

“I am sure that Lord Kentmore wishes to propose,” Lillian interjected, making Charlotte look at her sharply, though most of her expression was hidden from her sister, given the mask she was wearing. “And once he does, I think that Lord Glenfield shall also.”

“Lillian!” Their mother’s voice was a low hiss as she took hold of Lillian’s arm and pulled her closer. “Do keep your voice down! There are many nearby who would like nothing more than to whisper about all that you have said. Please, be a good deal more considered in your speech, whether it be true or not.”

“But it is true,” Lillian protested, albeit in a much quieter voice. “Lord Glenfield has told me as much, though he has not yet spoken to Father. I know that he means to do so very soon.”

“Once Lord Kentmore has proposed?” Lady Morton whispered, sending a look towards Charlotte which made her tremble inwardly. “Then that must mean that he desires very much to betrothe himself to you, Charlotte! Has he made any indication of that as yet?”

Charlotte did not know what to say. Ought she to state that yes, she knew of Lord Kentmore’s intentions, even though it had not been spoken of between them as yet, or should she remain silent on the matter?

Her mother squeezed her hand.

“I shall not press you, my dear. I can see that there is something on your mind, but you do not wish to speak of it as yet. That is understandable. What passes between a gentleman and a lady he is courting ought, sometimes, to stay private. Though,” she continued, a bright smile spreading across her face, “if that is to be as your sister hopes, then I do hope that you will accept, Charlotte?”

“Of course I shall, Mama,” Charlotte answered, a little dully. “I have no reason not to.”

Her mother beamed at her, but there was no time for them to say anything more. Instead, they greeted their hosts and stepped into the ballroom, and Charlotte caught her breath at the beauty of it. There were garlands and wreaths of white roses and laurel leaves positioned all around the room, the many candelabras making the walls appear as though they were burnished gold. There were mirrors on every wall, interspersed with pieces of magnificent art, and the floor itself bore a chalked piece of art, which, from where Charlotte stood, looked to be more roses and laurel leaves, to match the arrangements on the walls. Despite her own inner turmoil, Charlotte could not help but smile at the beauty of it, at the splendor that lifted her spirits from the doldrums.

“Good evening to you all!” It was Lord Glenfield’s jovial voice that made Charlotte recognize him immediately, even with the mask that covered both of his eyes and a good deal of his forehead. “How splendid to see you here this evening. Is not this ball truly magnificent?”

He beamed at them all and Charlotte could not help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“But how did you know that this was Lillian?” Lady Morton asked as Lord Glenfield chuckled.

“Ah, because she informed me of the very mask that she was to wear, and told me that there would be a single peacock feather to the right of her head,” Lord Glenfield said, as Lady Morton smiled. “Now, Miss Hawick, might I ask you to dance? Given that we cannot use dance cards this evening, I believe I shall try my luck and steal more than one dance from you, if I am permitted?”

His gaze went to Lady Morton, who smiled and nodded, clearly delighted with the prospect of having both daughters wed very soon. Charlotte, however, sighed softly as she watched her sister take her leave with Lord Glenfield, seeing the bright smile on Lillian’s face, and knowing that it came from a heart that was full simply because of being in Lord Glenfield’s company.

Would that I could have the same.

“My dear?” Lady Morton touched Charlotte’s arm. “What is it that troubles you so?”

Charlotte shook her head, trying to smile.

“It is nothing, Mama.”

“Tell me the truth.” Lady Morton’s expression softened. “I know that you think of Lord Kentmore. I have not pressed you on the matter, but you must be truthful with me, my dear. It is the only thing that will bring you relief from whatever it is that you have been contemplating for so long.”

Releasing a long breath, Charlotte turned her gaze to her mother.

“I have… feelings for Lord Kentmore which are not returned.”

Her mother’s smile became fixed in place.

“What do you mean, they are not returned?”

“That is what I mean.” Charlotte let out a slow breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “Mama, I have not told him of my affection, and I dare not even admit it to myself, for fear of the injury which will follow.”

“Injury?” Her mother frowned gently. “Why should you be injured?”

“Because,” Charlotte replied, tears catching in her throat, “as I have just now told you, he does not return my affections.”

Her mother tilted her head.

“Why would you say such a thing as that? What is it about him that makes you believe that there is no interest there?”

A little confused, Charlotte took a moment before she answered.

“Because he has not said any such thing to me.”

“But you have not said anything either,” her mother replied, making Charlotte’s brows furrow. “You have not told him of your interest, you have not said a word to him, but now you are concerned that he does not feel anything akin to your own heart? How can you be sure if you have not asked him?”

Charlotte closed her eyes.

“Because he is a rogue, Mama.”

“No, he was a rogue,” her mother insisted, albeit in a tender manner. “I have seen him as he has been in your company, I have watched as a tenderness has grown in his gaze as he watches you.” She smiled and took Charlotte’s hand again. “Do not lose heart, my dear. Urge yourself to speak the truth to him, and you may be surprised by just how much is returned to you.”

Listening carefully, Charlotte took a slow breath and then let it out again, hardly daring to believe that anything her mother had said was true. Had there really been a tenderness in Lord Kentmore’s expression towards her, or had her mother simply been mistaken?

“Now, why do you not take a few minutes to compose yourself and then return to me?” Lady Morton shrugged lightly. “No one will know who you are, so it will not matter if you take a short while at the side of the ballroom to regain yourself. I will stay here.”

Charlotte nodded, not trusting her voice as a wave of emotion crashed down over her. Making her way to the side of the ballroom, where the shadows hid her a little more, she took off her mask, pulled out her handkerchief, and wiped her eyes delicately.

I am falling in love with a rogue, she thought to herself, her tears beginning to burn afresh, though Charlotte did her best to keep them back. I do not know if I can dare permit myself to believe what my mother has said. A sense of joy began to fill her, forcing her tears away and instead, replacing them with a small smile. But if there is hope, then that changes everything.

“Miss Hawick, is it?”

Charlotte lifted her head, pushing her handkerchief back into her pocket.

“Yes, it is I, though with my mask off, I am certain anyone would be able to recognize me.” She searched the face of the lady in front of her, but the mask was much too ornate, the feathers too many to make it clear. “Forgive me, I do not know who you are and–”

“That is not important. What is important is that you end your courtship with Lord Kentmore.”

A sudden whoosh of breath rushed out of Charlotte, leaving her feeling a little weak and off-balance.

“I – I beg your pardon?”

“I know that this courtship is nothing but a falsehood. Lord Kentmore has spoken to me only recently and informed me of his disappointment and frustration in being so caught up in a match that he has no real interest in. I am sure that you must feel the same, though mayhap part of you is pleased that you are connected to a Marquess?”

Charlotte swallowed tightly, lifting her chin.

“I do not have any need to explain myself to you.” The words the lady had spoken ran right through her, however, wrapping around her like barbed thorns. “Now, if you will excuse me, I–”

“No one else in London is aware of what happened,” the lady interrupted, coming to stand a little closer to Charlotte. “There have been no whispers, no rumors of any sort, have there? So why, then, would you insist upon your courtship? He is a gentleman with a particular… way of living, is he not?” Her eyes glittered behind her mask, making Charlotte’s stomach twist. “He spoke to me only a few days ago, when we stood alone together in the gardens. We spoke intimately, you understand, and I heard him say very clearly that he had no interest in marrying, how he wished he was free of it, how he wished he was free of you .”

Pain seared Charlotte’s heart, and her eyes began to flood with tears, all hope fading away.

“You have the power to end this ridiculous courtship before it turns into something that you cannot step back from,” the lady continued, sniffing lightly as though Charlotte ought to recognize that she spoke nothing but sense. “It is your own foolishness which makes you linger, is it not? Why would you tie yourself to such a gentleman when you know the very sort of character that he is?”

Closing her eyes, Charlotte tried to steady herself.

“There is no saying what the future might bring,” she said hoarsely, echoing Lord Kentmore’s words, only for the lady to laugh aloud and so harshly that it made her wince.

“As though a rogue would change,” she laughed, as tears began to fall to Charlotte’s cheeks. “You are not speaking sense! You know as well as I that any scoundrel will remain just as he is, no matter who he is connected with. They will speak kind words, gentle words, even sweet words to you, but none of them hold truth. Given that I shared a kiss with him very recently, it makes it quite plain to me that he will never commit himself to you - which is, I presume, what you were hoping for?”

It was as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Charlotte could barely breathe, her hands gripping together as dizziness overwhelmed her.

“Ah, Miss Hawick, there you are. Your mother said… oh, excuse me.”

Charlotte’s vision blurred as she looked straight at the gentleman who had come to greet her, recognizing Lord Kentmore’s voice.

“I – I was…”

“Miss Hawick was just coming to the realization that she wanted to end your courtship,” the lady said, her words firm and decisive.

“End our courtship?” Lord Kentmore did not sound pleased, as Charlotte had expected, shock filling his voice and his expression as he reached up to take off his mask. “Whatever can you mean, Charlotte? Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because she knows that you are a rogue and that you are not inclined towards marriage,” the lady said again, as Charlotte fought to find enough strength to answer. “Given what we have shared of late, it makes sense for her to bring it to an end. After all no one from society thinks that there has been anything untoward happen, so why should you continue towards matrimony? There is no reason for it.”

There came a short silence and, as Charlotte blinked to clear her vision, she saw Lord Kentmore take a step towards the lady, his shoulders lifted, his head lowered but his face flushing.

“What we shared ?” he repeated, his anger evident in every syllable, his voice rasping. “I hardly think–”

“It is probably for the best.” Charlotte closed her eyes tightly, swaying slightly as she spoke. “I understand now. I should never have believed that there was any hope of a future where you thought only of me.” Her voice broke, tears beginning to dust her lashes again. “Excuse me.”

She turned to leave, only for Lord Kentmore to catch her hand.

“Charlotte, wait, please! This is not as it sounds. I–”

Shaking her head, Charlotte pulled her hand away and, without another word, without so much as another glance towards him, hurried away. She did not even look where she was going, her vision clouded with her tears. Finding herself outside, she put one hand on the doorframe and breathed in great gasps of cold air.

“Miss Hawick?”

She dared not look up for fear it was Lord Kentmore.

“It is Lord Glenfield. Are you quite all right? I came out for a breath of air after my dance and…” He leaned closer to her, then caught his breath. “Goodness, you are not all right, are you? What can I do?”

Charlotte shook her head, her handkerchief already sodden.

“I just want to go home.”

“Then take my carriage.” Lord Glenfield leaned towards a nearby footman and directed him sharply, before returning to Charlotte’s side. “It will be here in a moment. Shall I fetch your mother or sister?”

“No, please do not.” Her words punctuated by sobs, she shook her head again, not able to look at him. “Just inform them that I have a headache and choose to return home. I have made that excuse before, and it has been accepted.”

Lord Glenfield put a hand to her arm for a moment, though Charlotte knew it was meant only as a kind gesture.

“Is this because of Lord Kentmore?”

Charlotte looked up at him. There was understanding in his eyes and Charlotte could not help but nod, not trusting herself to speak anything more.

“Then I will talk to him, will berate him for whatever it is that he has done,” came the reply, just as the carriage drew up. “I do wish you well, Miss Hawick. Lord Kentmore is not worthy of you, not worthy in the least.”

There was no strength within her to reply, though she did accept his arm and permitted him to help her up into the carriage. Whispering a thank you, she closed her eyes again and leaned her head back, more than ready to make her way home and as far from Lord Kentmore as she could.

“My courtship is at an end,” she whispered, brokenly. Her heart cried out as she spoke those words, telling her that she did not want such a thing to have happened. She did not want to have separated from the gentleman who had begun to steal her heart but, at the same time, recognized that she would never be happy should she remain with him. Her tears began to flow in earnest and Charlotte let them fall, finally giving in to all of her sorrow and pain, her heart broken beyond repair.