The Suitor List (12 page)

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,"
he murmured in her ear while close to her during the
dance.

Charlotte glanced at Augusta and her partner Sir
Samuel Pruitt, as they were the second couple in their
foursome. Her elder sister did not seem to have heard
Lord Paul's declaration.

"I am afraid I have forever lost my heart to you," Lord
Paul uttered on the breath of a sigh before they parted for
the final bow. "I must see you alone," he pleaded when
the set had ended and he was leading her back to the
edge of the dance floor.

"Alone? How can I-I suppose I could slip away ..
She glanced at his dark, hungry eyes and replied, "If you
could manage to-in ten minutes-find the Music Room.
Go down this corridor and turn-"

Lord Paul nodded. "I know where it is." If he did not
stop, it was entirely likely his head might fall from his
shoulders.

"You must not be alarmed if you hear me stumble, for
I am a bit clumsy and it will be dark, but rest assured
I shall find you. Now we must part" Charlotte cast
her gaze downward. She should not be making such arrangements. "We must step away from one another
and no one should suspect that we have behaved in any
type of inappropriate manner."

Oh, she did feel wicked.

"Richard, have you seen Char-Char?" Augusta had
the good fortune to come upon him standing among the
guests and she could secure his assistance in finding her
wayward sibling.

"Were you not standing next to her in the last dance
only moments ago?" Being taller, Richard could easily
look above the crowd to spy the blond-haired Charlotte.
"Where could she have gone?"

"I cannot imagine." How could Augusta have lost
track of her sister so quickly?

"Richard, what are you doing?" Miss Skeffington
joined in the conversation.

"I am trying to locate Lady Charlotte, pet" His head
bobbed around, weaving to and fro as he continued his
search.

"Oh. I see," Miss Skeffington remarked rather curtly.

By the obvious coolness of her tone, Augusta wondered what objection she could have regarding her sister.

"I do not see why you need locate her. I cannot like
her, Richard," Miss Skeffington continued. "She is all
that is false. , '

"What do you mean?" Augusta thought it was quite
rude for Miss Skeffington to speak ill of her beloved
Charlotte before her own family.

I mean no disrespect, Lady Augusta. I will admit that
she is a diamond of the first water-a diamond beyond
compare, even" By Miss Skeffington's remorseless tone, Augusta could tell she had no intention of apologizing.
"I cannot believe that anyone possessing that amount of
beauty could possibly be both thoughtful and accommodating. One normally finds ladies with those positive
qualities quite ... How shall I put it kindly? They are perhaps on the vain side and think well of themselves, very
well, indeed."

Augusta felt her anger rise. How dare she speak
about Charlotte in such a manner! Her fiance may have
close ties to the Worth sisters and speak freely about
them at times, but that largess did not extend to Miss
Skeffington-especially before her marriage.

"Oh, but I must disagree," Richard interceded before
Augusta had a chance to vent. "Lady Charlotte is every
bit the divine angel she appears. There is not a soul she
does not think of before herself. She is everything that
is generous and kind."

"Then where has she gone off to without notice?"
Miss Skeffington replied in an effort to sound curious. "I hope she has not stolen one of your beaux."

Augusta displayed her superior deportment and
manners by not responding.

"It seems she has quite disappeared." Miss Skeffington gestured, turning up her palms in surrender.

"She cannot have disappeared," Richard remarked
and glanced at Augusta, who successfully restrained herself. "Charlotte must be somewhere."

Charlotte waited in the Music Room. The time, one
minute until midnight.

A soft rustle of fabric indicated someone moving
about in the back of the room.

Charlotte had done precisely as her father had asked,
following his instructions to the letter. Her heart beat in
a tempo that would have been too rapid to play on the
pianoforte or harp that sat at the front of the room.

A dull thump sounded from the right.

There was no entrapment involved. What Charlotte
had done was simply given the gentlemen what they
had asked for. However, the outcome might not be what
they expected.

A scrape from a piece of furniture pierced the air before a strike flared, bringing much needed light to the
Music Room. The single source of illumination wasn't
enough to see anyone but the person seated, lighting the
candle.

"Welcome to my gathering, gentlemen" The Duke of
Faraday lit a second, then a third taper. Finally the last
two, making five in all, revealed all the parties in attendance. "Please come closer, if you will."

Charlotte stood next to her aunt and together they
flanked the Duke sitting at a small round table. The three
gentlemen, Lord Perkins, Sir Thomas Granville, and
Lord Paul Bancroft, reluctantly inched forward.

Lord Carlton, the fourth gentleman, was missing from
their number. He had pressed her hand as he led her into
supper, insisting they must meet alone, and she had instructed him to enter through the glass doors leading
from the back garden.

"Unfortunately, for you this is a farewell party," His
Grace informed them. "You three are each in the regrettable position of approaching my daughter Charlotte for
what I would consider a most inappropriate meeting."

The gentlemen looked very uncomfortable, shifting their weight from foot to foot, glancing about the room
as if looking for a quick escape, and clearing their
throats as if they could find their voices to refute the accusation.

"Without assassination to your characters, I shall
merely say that the three of you have proven yourselves
to be unsuitable, and I will ask you to leave Faraday Hall
immediately."
"

With an expression of compliance, Lord Perkins
replied, "If I may, Your Grace, I shall take my leave at
first light."

I mean immediately, my lord," Faraday insisted in a
clear and forceful expression, a tone which Charlotte
knew meant he was not to be disobeyed.

"But, Your Grace, it is the middle of the night," Sir
Thomas protested.

"Let me be clear about this." The Duke stood, and
Charlotte took a small step back, bracing herself, should
her father choose to exhibit his anger. "I do not wish to
see any of you at my breakfast table tomorrow morning."

"Ladies, Your Grace" Lord Paul dropped into an immediate bow and left. Sir Thomas and Lord Perkins followed his example and took their leave.

Their final leave.

Even after attending the ball until the early morning
hours the night before, Charlotte was up and about before nine. She had breakfast in the privacy of her own
room, and when she finally left, it was for the express
purpose of seeking Muriel.

After checking Muriel's bedchamber and the Specula Alta, Charlotte thought for certain her sister would
be in the Librarium. The small second-floor library was
a place where, as children, they had spent many hours
together, studying with their governess and Frederick's
tutors before he reached the age when he could attend
Eton.

As Charlotte understood it, Muriel could still be found
in the Librarium, where she took comfort in being surrounded by her books. She usually sat in the far corner,
where the sunlight poured in over her right shoulder,
with her back against the rear bookcase that contained all
her favorites.

Charlotte knew at once her search for Muriel had come to an end upon entering the Librarium and seeing
an open book held at head level.

"There were three of them last night, Moo," Charlotte
reported. "Papa asked them to leave that very instant.
He would not allow them to wait until daybreak."

The book lowered and a young, slender lad with
straight hair, wearing spectacles, stared back at her. He
stood, in fright, Charlotte guessed by the suddenness of
his action, when he realized she had entered the room.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon" Charlotte felt very bad that
she had disturbed him. "I thought you were my sister."

"Moo?" his voice cracked, as was common with a
boy of his years.

"Her name is Muriel. Lady Muriel. Moo's a family
nickname." Charlotte smiled. The young man must
have been twelve or thirteen and stood no taller than
her shoulder. "Who are you?"

"Sherwin Lloyd, my lady" He inclined his head just
slightly, removed his glasses, and blinked back at her.
"My brother James is here to-"

"Your brother is ... Lord Marsdon, is he not?"

"Yes, that's right." He folded his spectacles and
slipped them into his jacket pocket.

"I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance last
night at the ball. I believe I danced with him. Were you
also present?" Charlotte did not recall seeing him.

"No, I ... I.." He tugged at his jacket, straightening the left side first, then the right.

He was far too shy even to admit he had not attended.

"You should have, you know."

"I couldn't possibly. I hope it is all right that I am
here"

Young Mr. Lloyd sounded quite nervous and his
prominent Adam's apple moved when he tried to swallow. "I was told that I could-"

"I beg you to please remain." Charlotte smiled, trying
to put him at ease. "You are exactly where you should
be"

"Here you are, Char-Char. Who is that you are talking to?" Muriel silenced when she saw the young man
in her room with Charlotte.

Charlotte thought Muriel, upon spotting Mr. Lloyd in
her domain, might have felt a bit territorial.

"Muriel, this is Lord Marsdon's younger brother, Mr.
Sherwin Lloyd." Charlotte was happy to make the introduction. "Mr. Lloyd, my sister, Lady Muriel."

"Lady Muriel." He inclined his head, making her acquaintance. He shifted the book in his arms, adjusting
his hold. His index finger held the place where he'd
stopped reading.

"I have news for you," Charlotte whispered, then
glanced to Mr. Lloyd. "I'll wait for you in your bedchamber." She looked from one to the other. "Perhaps
you two should talk. It seems you have at least one thing
in common-books" Then she left.

"Books!" Muriel groused. "She says it as if they were
all the same. What are you reading there?" She indicated
the book in his arms.

It so happened that Mr. Lloyd was reading her book.
Muriel wanted to know exactly what subject he found
interesting in her study.

"Ah . . " He cleared his throat and turned the tome to
see its cover. "The second volume of Publius Vergilius
Maro's Aeneid."

"That edition is not translated. You read Latin?" She
ventured carefully, feeling excitement bubble up inside
her.

"Yes, and Greek. My main course of study at Eton is
Classics." His voice sounded stronger now.

"You attend Eton?" How Muriel envied him. This
young man was about her age, and if she'd had the freedom to attend Eton, they might have been classmates.

"I've just finished my first year."

"My brother is a third year. Fredrick, Earl of Brent."

"I'm afraid I don't know of him." He shook his head.

"I've been writing to Headmaster Keate. Here's his
latest reply." Muriel tapped the sealed missive she held
and raised her chin in defiance. "I'm petitioning to have
female students admitted."

She knew the majority believed her request was futile, that the school should remain all male as it had for
hundreds of years.

"No!" he said, more in astonishment than disapproval.
"Have you had any luck swaying their opinion?"

"No, but I'm not about to give up. There is no reason
why girls should not attend. They need formal education just as much as boys."

"I heartily agree," he replied with stern conviction.

It gratified Muriel to have someone, albeit one no
more than a lad himself, not even as tall as she, share
her opinion.

"I sat in on Freddie's Latin instruction when he was at
home. I study the best I can now, but my father will not
allow me the benefit of my own tutor." Muriel stiffened.
"He does not wish to encourage me to follow what he
considers male pursuits."

"I do not think acquisition of knowledge is foolish."
He laid the book on the table and stepped forward to
better address her.

"Thank you" Even the opinion of a stranger, a new
acquaintance, caused Muriel to feel vindicated.

"Latin is quite fascinating." He somehow lost that air
of awkwardness he had so firmly possessed when she
first entered.

"I think so too." Muriel smiled at him. Young Mr.
Lloyd was a fair companion ... for a boy.

"To read Aeneid in its native text is a phenomenal feat.
Some think Homer's Odyssey is a much better story.
Odyssey is, of course, a longer journey, whereas Aeneid
is only twelve volumes." He moved along the table, coming closer to her.