Nellie moved forward. As she took careful aim, she was aware of his eyes and those of the gathering upon her. Her hand shook. When released, the arrow struck the outer rim of the target. She cringed, and her cheeks grew hot.
“Oh, bad luck, Nellie. Nowhere near your best,” Marian murmured, fitting an arrow to her bow. Her aim was better, but her arrow still struck well left of the bull’s eye.
Charles placed his arrow into the bow. It twanged as it left the bow and hit the center target right beside Alice’s.
Everyone clapped.
Charles and Alice were well in front by the last round. When his final shot failed to find the bull’s eye, and as everyone else taking part had not come close, Alice was declared the outright winner. They all trooped back to the house for afternoon tea.
“Charles deliberately let Alice win after her second shot fell a fraction short,” Marian said as they went to their bedchambers to tidy themselves. “I thought it exceedingly generous of him.”
“If he did, it was indeed kind of him,” Nellie admitted. “I’m pleased Alice is no shrinking violet and has firm opinions for one so young. But her lessons in grace, deportment, and conversation haven’t brought about a significant change in her demeanor. Perhaps I should have a talk with her.”
Marian raised her brows, a slight glimmer in her green eyes. “Are you sure, dearest? When she is so very like you at that age?”
“Men are not the enemy. One does not have to outsmart them or better them at every turn,” Nelly said firmly. But hadn’t she been eager to beat Charles when they galloped?
“She won’t feel that way in a year or two,” Marian said. “Men are such fascinating creatures. One tends to grow fond of them.”
Nellie couldn’t suppress a grin. “Did you hear Alice tell Charles she would allow him to win next time?”
Marian paused, a hand on her bedchamber door. “Yes, he was still chuckling when he entered the house.”
Nellie approved of his laugh, which was deep and rich, although she saw no reason to mention it. Marian needed little encouragement to sing his praises. And while she was tempted to agree with her, she didn’t want to chance fate. “He is bound to have habits I dislike.”
“Like Sir Michael Kettering, who sucks his teeth?”
“Oh, Marian, I wish you could take this seriously.”
With a glance down the corridor at a maid with fresh linens over her arm, Marian took Nellie’s hand and drew her into her room. She shut the door. “Are you afraid to risk your heart?”
“What? No! This will not be a marriage like yours, Marian. Charles is not in love with me. Nor I, him.”
“Because of that business with Kealan Walsh?” Marian persisted. “You were in love with him and very unhappy when Papa warned him off.”
“And he went away like a lamb,” Nellie finished for her. Walsh was better at writing poetry than fighting for what he wanted. Or hadn’t he wanted her enough? That possibility had hurt her deeply at the time. They had been quite close, penning verse together, and writing that article for the journal.
“More like a dog with its tail between its legs,” Marian said. “In this, I am in full support of Papa!”
“I didn’t love Walsh. I know that now.” She had never felt true passion for the man himself, only his words.
“Yes, thank heaven. He’s returned to Ireland, has he not?”
“I believe so.”
“Good riddance.”
*
The evening followed much like the last, with an excellent meal, good conversation, and a game of billiards. Little time to speak to his betrothed, however. It was still early when Charles made his way to his bedchamber. The ladies wished for their beauty sleep, and the gentlemen, after several glasses of port, found their way to bed.
As he undressed, Charles thought about his newly acquired family. He had yet to warm to Nathaniel. He seemed an arrogant fellow with a shy little wife. But he liked Nellie’s youngest sister. Lady Alice was an outspoken woman, already displaying a good deal of charm. He hoped she wouldn’t be taught to behave like the debutantes he’d met. Most of them simpered, and were too flirtatious, while seemingly afraid to express any opinions that had not been schooled into them. Marian, Lady Belfries, was a good soul. He enjoyed her company, and she was obviously very fond of her sister. Her husband was a companionable, good-natured fellow.
Charles looked forward to spending more time with Nellie in London. Tomorrow, their engagement was to be announced at the ball. The pressure he’d been under since his father demanded he make good on this family obligation, eased. No turning back, now. His mother would be happy. She had been urging him to marry and produce an heir.
Chapter Five
The morning of the ball dawned fine, but dark clouds hovered some miles away on the horizon, and Nellie could smell rain on the breeze blowing through her bedchamber window. She hoped the bad weather would hold off on this special day. Charles and the evening ahead loomed large in her mind. Their engagement was the first step toward their life together.
She looked forward to the freedom marriage would give her. She doubted Charles would ask much of her. So far, he had not said or done anything to give her pause. Was he the unflappable man who deposited his mistress in the hackney? Or the brutish fellow who punched a journalist? He was certainly the man who had loved a woman and suffered heartbreak when she married another. Maybe Nellie would never know him well. They might not see much of each other after the honeymoon. He was, as Marian said, extremely attractive. Trouble was, other women thought so, too. They would have a busy social life together, but apart from that, they could pursue their own interests.
Smoothing her hair, she hurried downstairs to have breakfast.
Nat had already ridden out with
