To Dare a Rogue, Lana Williams [read an ebook week txt] 📗

being with him for an entire evening was rather thrilling. In his company, she wouldn't have to worry about things such as Lord Palmer overstepping or Barbara and her giggling. The excitement she felt was far different than what she’d felt previously. Though a tingle of nervousness danced in her stomach, it had more to do with being with James than doing something she shouldn't be doing. He truly was a fine figure of a man, so handsome and appealing. Even Margaret noticed, and she rarely did so.

Charlotte had the suspicion that James needed more entertainment in his life. He was so serious compared to the lighthearted young man he used to be. If she could lift the shadows from his eyes, even temporarily, she would be happy.

A knock sounded at her door and she sat up against the pillows. “Enter.”

Much to her surprise, her mother came in. “Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning.” Concern fluttered through her. Lady Wynn had a purpose if she was paying a visit.

“Your father and I have been talking...” her mother began.

Charlotte hid a sigh. She knew exactly what that meant. Her father had spoken, and her mother had nodded. Though she loved her mother dearly, she couldn't help but wonder who she'd been before her marriage. Now she agreed with everything her husband said no matter how unreasonable and unfair it seemed.

Charlotte detested her mother’s disinterest but knew firsthand how difficult it was to argue with him. His temper made any conversation uncomfortable and the few times she’d protested, let alone tried to defy him, he had frightened her. Shouting, throwing objects, and making life difficult for the entire household, including the servants. The memory of the last time she disagreed with him had her swallowing hard.

“Oh?” Although Charlotte understood her mother's position, another part of her resented the fact that she didn't stand up for herself or her children. While Charlotte knew her mother had little choice, she still had opinions. Or at least she used to. But living with her husband had slowly smothered those.

More than once, Charlotte had attempted to speak with her about it. How could she not when one look at her face revealed how unhappy she was? Some women became bitter when locked in a marriage such as hers. But Lady Wynn had become lifeless. Charlotte didn't know which was worse.

“Your father would like you to speak with Lord Samuelson at the next opportunity. Tomorrow night at the Washburn Ball should be the perfect time. He would make you a fine husband, and your father wants you to catch his notice.”

Charlotte's stomach tightened with unease. “Lord Samuelson? But he's much older than I am.” Too old in Charlotte’s opinion. An image of the tall, rather unattractive man came to mind with his somber countenance and high cheekbones.

“Nonsense. The two of you will suit perfectly. His title is an old one and his family quite wealthy.” Her mother didn't meet her eyes.

“I disagree.” Perhaps her mother had smothered her feelings, but Charlotte had no intention of doing so. While she hated the idea of putting her mother in an uncomfortable situation, she had no choice. This was the rest of her life they were talking about. “Surely I have some say as to who I should marry.”

“Your father knows best.”

Charlotte reached for her mother's arm and squeezed it gently until she met her gaze. But even then she could see the distance in her eyes. For her vacant expression this early in the morning meant one thing—laudanum.

Though Charlotte had suspected it on a few other occasions, there was no other explanation behind that look. No doubt a conversation with her father had been enough for her to seek something to smother her misery despite the early hour.

Charlotte's best hope was to do everything she could to remove her mother from the middle of the situation. Somehow she'd have to find the strength and courage to ask her father to see reason.

But that was not anything to be done rashly. She needed to plan her approach and find the right moment with the hope she could convince him to see her side of things. The chances of success were slim, but she had to try.

“Mother, what if I found a more appropriate suitor?”

“Your father knows best, dear,” she repeated. “You should allow him to guide you in this matter.”

“The qualities he considers important for a potential husband do not align with mine.”

“What would you know of such things?” Her mother shook her head. “He has your best interests at heart.”

“I rather think he has his own best interests at heart. He doesn't care whether or not I'm happy.”

“You sound like a spoiled child.” She gave a disapproving look. “I expect more from you. Now then, why don't you ring for your maid and decide which of your gowns you should wear for tomorrow night’s ball? Your father is certain Lord Samuelson will be there. You must look your best.”

“But mother—”

“No more.” Her mother smoothed her gown, her gaze already on the door. “We will not speak of this again until after you've had a chance to spend time with Lord Samuelson. Make sure you dance with him.”

“Are you coming to the ball?”

“We shall see. I haven't yet decided.”

Her mother attended few events anymore. Charlotte wondered why, though she had the idea that seeing others happy and content with their lives must make her own life all the more painful to bear. Better to spend the evening in her bedchamber with a good book and a bottle of wine, anything to escape her circumstances.

That was not how Charlotte intended to spend her life. While she knew marriage was a compromise, she at least wanted to like and respect her husband. True partnerships were rare. And she had no reason to hope for something of the sort. She wanted to have children and share her love with them one day, but she also wanted a marriage she could more than endure.

That was all