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Authors: Amy Corwin
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four-and-twenty, I will be free to manage my inheritance. Then I intend to—” Both the Archers stared at her, incredulous expressions on their faces. Suddenly, she felt foolish blurting out she intended to travel to Egypt to excavate the tombs of the pharaohs. How could she tell them she wanted to do something other than get married?
But she could not face a future where her most difficult decision would be whether to have lobster bisque or baked haddock for the fish course at supper.
“You intend t o travel?” Lady Victoria asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“We will see what we can do about an older abigal, then,” Mr. Archer said.
Was it really going to be that easy?
Lady Victoria nodded and changed the subject. “I am disappointed we were unable to introduce you to our nephew, the Duke of Peckham. He was supposedly in attendance, however we did not see him.”
“Well, you were in the card room most of the—” Charlotte said before she caught herself. How her guardians chose to entertain themselves was entirely their own affair. “That is, perhaps he was not there after all,” she amended. They would find out soon enough that Charlotte had met him and proceeded to insult him.
At the time, she thought she was being clever and amusing while saving him from the Lady Beatrice. It was only after reflection that she realized how she must have sounded to him: gauche and ignorant. Lady Beatrice would never have done anything so ridiculous. She was always perfectly behaved—when in public.
Lady Victoria squirmed in her seat, casting oblique glances at her husband. “It was unintentional,” Lady Victoria said. “You know how it is. They needed us to make up a table for whist and the time simply slipped away.” She patted Charlotte’s gloved hand. “We will make it up to you, my dear. Would you like a dinner party, or perhaps a ball?”
“No, really—”
“That is it, Vee,” Mr. Archer interrupted. “What a brilliant notion, a small, select ball, not like this rabble.” He waved his hand past his ear, toward Lady Beatrice’s home.
“No, really….” Charlotte repeated. Her stomach burned with tension. She did not need another opportunity to make a fool of herself or stand around watching other debutants sweat.
The Archers ignored her. Mr. Archer faced his wife. They clasped hands, talking excitedly, and completing each other’s sentences as if they were the only ones in the carriage.
Charlotte watched them, trying not to feel cold and excluded.
“A string quartet—” Lady Victoria said.
“In honor of our ward, of course,” Mr. Archer interrupted. “No more than fifty—”
“Twenty couples would be perfection.”
“And His Grace—”
“No, really!” Charlotte insisted. The Archers stared at her. “I am sorry, but this is entirely unnecessary.” They continued to gaze at her, their mouths gaping slightly in surprise as Charlotte hurried on. “I don’t even like to dance! Really! And it is almost the end of the season—it is May! Surely most of the families are already leaving.”
“Nonsense. There are still scores rattling around London. You are just tired. It has been an exhausting day for you, Miss Haywood,” Lady Victoria replied. “After a good night’s sleep, you will feel differently, I am sure.”
“No.” A flush rush over Charlotte’s cheeks. The carriage was coming to a halt outside the Archer’s town house, and she suddenly felt a sense of urgency. If she didn’t convince them now, they would make their plans without asking her opinion. “ I would much prefer it if I could just, um….” What? What excuse could she give? She just wanted to be ignored until she turned twenty-four and escaped to Egypt.
Most importantly, she wanted to be left alone to forget she had insulted the only man she had ever met who gazed at her with respect, who made her feel special. And he was a duke and the nephew of the Archers to boot.
They’d be furious.
She had done it
But she could not face a future where her most difficult decision would be whether to have lobster bisque or baked haddock for the fish course at supper.
“You intend t o travel?” Lady Victoria asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“We will see what we can do about an older abigal, then,” Mr. Archer said.
Was it really going to be that easy?
Lady Victoria nodded and changed the subject. “I am disappointed we were unable to introduce you to our nephew, the Duke of Peckham. He was supposedly in attendance, however we did not see him.”
“Well, you were in the card room most of the—” Charlotte said before she caught herself. How her guardians chose to entertain themselves was entirely their own affair. “That is, perhaps he was not there after all,” she amended. They would find out soon enough that Charlotte had met him and proceeded to insult him.
At the time, she thought she was being clever and amusing while saving him from the Lady Beatrice. It was only after reflection that she realized how she must have sounded to him: gauche and ignorant. Lady Beatrice would never have done anything so ridiculous. She was always perfectly behaved—when in public.
Lady Victoria squirmed in her seat, casting oblique glances at her husband. “It was unintentional,” Lady Victoria said. “You know how it is. They needed us to make up a table for whist and the time simply slipped away.” She patted Charlotte’s gloved hand. “We will make it up to you, my dear. Would you like a dinner party, or perhaps a ball?”
“No, really—”
“That is it, Vee,” Mr. Archer interrupted. “What a brilliant notion, a small, select ball, not like this rabble.” He waved his hand past his ear, toward Lady Beatrice’s home.
“No, really….” Charlotte repeated. Her stomach burned with tension. She did not need another opportunity to make a fool of herself or stand around watching other debutants sweat.
The Archers ignored her. Mr. Archer faced his wife. They clasped hands, talking excitedly, and completing each other’s sentences as if they were the only ones in the carriage.
Charlotte watched them, trying not to feel cold and excluded.
“A string quartet—” Lady Victoria said.
“In honor of our ward, of course,” Mr. Archer interrupted. “No more than fifty—”
“Twenty couples would be perfection.”
“And His Grace—”
“No, really!” Charlotte insisted. The Archers stared at her. “I am sorry, but this is entirely unnecessary.” They continued to gaze at her, their mouths gaping slightly in surprise as Charlotte hurried on. “I don’t even like to dance! Really! And it is almost the end of the season—it is May! Surely most of the families are already leaving.”
“Nonsense. There are still scores rattling around London. You are just tired. It has been an exhausting day for you, Miss Haywood,” Lady Victoria replied. “After a good night’s sleep, you will feel differently, I am sure.”
“No.” A flush rush over Charlotte’s cheeks. The carriage was coming to a halt outside the Archer’s town house, and she suddenly felt a sense of urgency. If she didn’t convince them now, they would make their plans without asking her opinion. “ I would much prefer it if I could just, um….” What? What excuse could she give? She just wanted to be ignored until she turned twenty-four and escaped to Egypt.
Most importantly, she wanted to be left alone to forget she had insulted the only man she had ever met who gazed at her with respect, who made her feel special. And he was a duke and the nephew of the Archers to boot.
They’d be furious.
She had done it
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