Charming Sir Charles (Dashing Widows 5)

Fenella, always more inclined toward peacemaking than conflict, said calmly, “You know your niece better than I do, of course.”

“Yes, I do.”

But she wasn’t totally convinced. She and Meg got along, and she loved the girl. But Meg was unusually independent and even at this age, tended to play her own game. She and her aunt didn’t indulge in intimate cozes, where Meg poured out her heart and sought her elder’s advice.

In fact, although Sally would never admit it aloud, she sometimes wondered if her niece was more worldly wise t

han she was.

Ridiculous.

But as she moved back into the bustling crowd and checked behind her to make sure Meg was following, she pondered. Did Meg love Sir Charles? He was all that the world admired in a gentleman. And the girl had never expressed any dislike for him.

But did she love him?

Surely she did. If Sally had been an eighteen-year-old girl, and such a wonderful man expressed an interest in her, she’d have been in alt.

But Fenella understood people. And Fenella had sounded so certain when she dismissed the idea of Sir Charles and Meg making a happy match. Sally’s responsibilities as an aunt had never weighed so heavy.

From the first, she’d done her best to promote Sir Charles’s suit. But if there was no hope of it reaching its proper end, had she neglected the girl’s other matrimonial chances?

Meg was only eighteen, and her parents weren’t desperate for her to wed yet, especially when Sally bore the season’s expenses. But still…

If Sir Charles wasn’t Meg’s choice, did she prefer another suitor? She liked Brand and Carey, but Sir Charles was right when he’d said the boys were too young to marry. Sally’s instincts were that the trio were friends, rather than anything more romantic.

But now it seemed her instincts about her niece were radically opposed to Fenella’s.

She looked ahead to where Sir Charles and Anthony waited near the entrance. The light shone down on Sir Charles’s rich brown hair and illuminated his classic profile. With a strange little shiver, Sally thought again how attractive he was. Dressed formally for the opera, he was a man to take a girl’s breath away.

Meg must want to marry him.

As if he sensed her attention, he glanced up and smiled. She loved watching the way his features softened and those dimples appeared in his cheeks. How could Meg resist him?

Despite her disquiet, she returned his smile and felt her certainty flow back. Good heavens, she was worrying about nothing. There was no reason to doubt herself.

Fenella was wrong. Meg liked Sir Charles. Sir Charles liked her. Sally knew that, if for no other reason than that he took the trouble to be nice to her aunt. Within the next few weeks, he would propose, and Meg would end her season in triumph.

Which meant Sally, free of her responsibilities to her niece, could go on to fulfilling a few plans of her own. Perhaps buying a permanent home in London. Taking a lover. Returning to her charity work.

The fact that, right now, all of those things seemed vilely empty was neither here nor there.

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

Since meeting Morwenna on the committee of a naval charity in Portsmouth, Sally had stayed several times at Shelton Abbey, Lord West’s beautiful estate in the Leicestershire countryside. In recent years, her friendship with Morwenna had expanded to encompass all the Nashes and their circle. She loved each of them, especially the original Dashing Widows, Silas’s wife Caroline, gentle Fenella, and sardonic, brilliant Helena, her hostess this week.

When Helena invited Sally and Meg to stay as a brief respite from the whirl of the season, she’d been quick to accept. Even more delightful, Helena included Meg’s suitor, Sir Charles Kinglake in the party.

Perhaps in a smaller, intimate gathering away from London’s distractions, he’d finally offer for her niece. He must have courtship in mind, or else why accept the invitation? While he got along well with Helena and West—she’d observed he got along well with most people—they weren’t particularly close.

Sally had approached the house party, anticipating both her own enjoyment and a happy outcome for Meg and her beau.

But so far, four days into the visit, Shelton Abbey’s charms had failed to work their usual magic on her spirits. Sally felt discontented and unsettled. And the worst of it was that she wasn’t sure why.

Oh, the causes behind some of her grumbles were obvious. Sir Charles hadn’t yet proposed. Even if he did, he’d need to seek Meg in the stables, because the girl had devoted much more attention to Lord West’s thoroughbreds than to her future husband.