“I am going to write to Lady Hayward,” she responded, with a small smile. “I wish to thank her for keeping my daughter safe from Lord Telford’s advances last evening, and to inform her that such a thing will never happen again.”
Charles nodded, but said nothing more, waiting until his mother had closed the door behind her before he allowed himself to flop back in his chair, a long and heavy breath escaping him. Closing his eyes, he recalled all that had occurred last evening. He had been most displeased with Amelia’s conduct from the very beginning, finding her looking all around her with an air of dislike.
When Lady Selina and Lady Hayward had come to join them, there had been such a curl of disdain on his sister’s face that he had wanted to drag her to one side and berate her furiously. It had been all the more irritating to see her so changed when she realized just who Lady Selina was, for she had immediately become eager to be in her company, glad to converse with her and doing all she could to further their acquaintance – although Charles suspected that Lady Selina herself was not particularly eager for such a thing.
Opening his eyes, he reached for his coffee and finished it quickly, trying to find the force of will needed to remove himself from the table and continue on with all that he had to do but, for whatever reason, he could not harness the impetus to do so. Instead, he found himself weary and deflated. The look on his sister’s face had been one of utter dismay, but Charles did not regret what he had said nor what his mother had said either. It was a relief to have Lady Barrington agreeing with him, for he had feared that he would have both his sister and his mother fighting against him.
“Mayhap I should write to her,” he mused, tilting his head as he considered.
If his mother was to write to Lady Hayward to thank her for all she had done last evening, then mayhap his duty was to do the same for Lady Selina. From what Amelia had said, it seemed that Lady Selina had been the one to notice both herself and Miss Newington from the first, who perhaps had alerted Lady Hayward, who had then hurried to join them. Regardless, he felt as though she was deserving of his thanks.
Forcing himself from his chair, Charles made his way from the dining room to his study, finding a great sense of peace wash over him as he closed the door tightly behind him, leaning back against it for a moment. Quite how he was to continue helping Amelia when she was so determined to do as she pleased, he did not know. He could only hope that this would be the moment she realized that she could not continue to behave in such a manner.
Making his way to his desk, he sat down heavily and looked blankly at the papers in front of him. When he had looked all about him last evening and realized that his sister was gone from his company, he had felt such a rush of fear that he had been unable to move for a moment or two. Having no wish to upset his mother, he had made his way through the ballroom, looking all about him in as surreptitious manner as possible. When he had seen her in the music room, his heart had slammed hard against his chest, noticing Lord Telford stepping back from them at once. A mixture of relief, gratitude, anger and disappointment had warred within his heart and he had been forced to use every last part of his resolve to keep his voice steady as he spoke to his sister.
Lady Selina had watched quietly, her expression serene and yet her eyes filled with an awareness of what might have been. He certainly owed her a great deal.
Pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, Charles picked up his quill and found his ink bottle. And then, he began to write.
“Good gracious!”
Charles looked up from where he had been sanding his letter to Lady Selina, seeing his friend standing in the doorway.
“Ah,” he replied, a little awkwardly. “Do come in, Banfield. Ignore this mess, I beg you.”
Clearing his throat, he glanced at the tray to his right, where nuncheon had been set for him. He had forgotten to eat even a single thing, such had been his concentration on the letter.
Jamison, who was holding the door open for Lord Banfield, made to come in, clearly eager to help Charles tidy the mess that he himself had created, but Charles waved him away.
“It is but a few sheets of parchment,” he said, as the butler’s eyes remained fixed on the floor. “I am more than able to place them in the fireplace. Please, attend to your duties.”
Jamison nodded and stepped away, pulling the door closed behind him and leaving Lord Banfield staring at the many crumpled up sheets of paper that littered not only Charles’ desk but also the floor around it.
“I have been attempting a letter,” Charles said, by way of explanation. “It has been proving difficult to put my thoughts into words.”
“I can see that,” Lord Banfield replied, as Charles folded up his letter, ready to seal it. “It must be a letter of great importance.”
Charles nodded, rising from his chair and collecting up all of the other letters which he had started and then thrown aside.
“Indeed,” he said, without giving any further explanation. “I shall burn these at once. You will not mind?”
Lord Banfield chuckled and shook his head.
“Might I ask to whom you are writing?” he asked, a slight gleam coming into his eye. “A young lady, mayhap?”
Picking up the strewn pieces of paper that lay across his desk, Charles let out a bark of laughter.
“You are correct,
