Charming Sir Charles (Dashing Widows 5)

“Yes, it is. Lord Garson is taking me to the opera.”

“Lucky you.” Sally glanced out and noticed that twilight had crept in. She must have been sitting in here brooding alone for hours.

Another gray day had passed, with her barely aware of anything beyond her own wretchedness. Every day lately was gray, whatever the weather was like.

The worst of her unhappiness over losing Charles would fade with time. That was how life worked, wasn’t it? Nothing lasted forever. They could now get on with forgetting one another.

In the meantime, she just had to endure. She’d endured a disagreeable marriage. Surely her love for someone she’d known a mere matter of weeks would eventually change from present anguish to wistful memory.

Morwenna came into the room and sank into a brocade chair opposite the sofa where Sally sat. “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

“I’m not dressed to go out.” She indicated the sprigged muslin she’d put on this morning.

“Garson won’t be here for another half hour. You have plenty of time to change.”

“No, thank you. I feel like a quiet night.” At the opera, she’d have to pretend she was still witty, sparkly, insouciant Sally Cowan. Worse, at the opera, she was likely to see Sir Charles Kinglake. She’d rather take her embroidery needle and poke out her eye than risk that.

Impatience lit Morwenna’s eyes to sapphire. “You’ve felt like a quiet night ever since you got back from Shelton Abbey a week ago.”

Sally shrugged. “Now I’m not chaperoning Meg to any parties, there’s no great necessity for me to dance the night away.”

“Do you really mean to send her home tomorrow?”

“She’s lucky I didn’t send her home the day we returned to London.”

Sally had relented enough to let Meg stay to say goodbye to her friends. Sally had even allowed her to attend the theatre, a musicale, and a ball—although not the one given by the new Duchess of Sedgemoor. She didn’t want people commenting on the girl’s sudden withdrawal from society, and perhaps seeking some scandalous reason to explain it.

Like a coward, instead of accompanying her niece, she’d made sure Fenella or Helena kept her on a short rein. But given Meg’s cont

inuing flood of apologies, she was almost sure the girl had learned her lesson and wouldn’t do anything outrageous.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened at the house party?” Morwenna’s expression was concerned. “I’ve left you alone so far, because it was clear you were in a state when you arrived back. But you’ve been in a funk for a week now, and it might help you to talk about what’s upset you. I’ve asked Caro and Helena, but they claim ignorance.”

Sally rose on a surge of temper. “You have no business prying.”

“I do when you’re so unhappy, and Meg’s going back to Hampshire.” Morwenna remained calm under Sally’s glare. “And Sir Charles Kinglake, who has been a constant presence in our lives since he came to London, hasn’t been seen in public for a week, and now the word is that he’s closing up his house and going to Italy.”

“Italy,” Sally said on the ghost of a sound, forgetting all about her squabble with Morwenna.

“That’s what people are saying.”

“Oh,” Sally said shakily, turning away toward the window so Morwenna wouldn’t see her silly tears.

It was the height of capriciousness to regret that Charles was leaving England. She’d said no to his proposal. She’d sent him away. He’d been gentleman enough to heed her. And so far no whisper of scandal had emerged about their dalliance. Apart from the jagged wound in her heart, the matter was concluded.

But something about the thought of him so very far away made her want to cry her eyes out.

“Sally?” She felt Morwenna’s cool touch on her arm. “Did Sir Charles and Meg do something terrible in Leicestershire?”

“No.” Although they had. Meg had played a stupid, childish trick, and Charles had lured Sally into finding a pleasure she’d never known. Worse, he’d said he loved her.

Right now, that seemed the cruelest cut of all.

Morwenna’s tone remained gentle but uncompromising. “Then why are you sending Meg back to her father, and why have you turned into a hermit, and why is Sir Charles moving to the Continent?”

Sally fumbled for her handkerchief and avoided Morwenna’s gaze. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Obviously there’s lots to tell, or you wouldn’t be crying. Don’t you trust me?”