Charming Sir Charles (Dashing Widows 5)
“Oh, dear,” Sally said in dismay. “How on earth can that have happened?”
“I’m at a loss, my lady. But it will take most of the day to set it right, which means we won’t make London tomorrow, even if we get off this afternoon.”
“Sally, you’re welcome to stay until it’s fixed,” Helena said.
Meg’s annoyed glance at her hostess strengthened Charles’s conviction that she’d taken the matter of her aunt’s future into her own hands. “But I’m engaged for the Sedgemoors’ ball the night we get back, and I do so want to wear my new blue gown.”
“If we don’t make it, it’s not the end of the world,” Sally said.
Meg looked sulky. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“Then you’ll hear all about it afterward anyway.” Sally sent Meg a quelling glare, then turned to Helena. “Thank you, but you’ve had your fill of guests this last week.”
“Not at all,” Helena said.
West smiled at Sally. “You’re no trouble.”
Meg shot Charles a meaningful look, confirming his suspicion that the broken wheel was no accident. A long trip back to London? Sally couldn’t avoid him if they were on the road together, and he’d be on the lookout for his chance to get her alone.
He seized his moment and stepped down to stand beside Sally. “Why don’t you both come with me? I’d appreciate the company. That way, your coachman can make his repairs and leave when he’s ready.”
Meg’s “Oh, how delightful that would be,” clashed with Sally’s “We couldn’t put you to such trouble.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Charles said smoothly.
When Sally turned pale, he moved to catch her arm. For a sizzling moment, he touched her. How could she be so cold to him when she felt so warm?
After these last frustrating days, his patience with her skittishness was rapidly running out. It was time she understood what he wanted of her. Somewhere on this trip, he’d say his piece, and if she sent him away, at least he’d know where he stood.
“How kind of you to offer, Sir Charles,” Helena said, with a glint in her eye that hinted she was awake to Meg’s strategems and meant to promote them.
“Helena, you said it would be all right to stay until the repair is made,” Sally said with a desperation that made Charles grit his teeth.
“Of course you’re welcome, but wh
at a pity for Meg to miss the Sedgemoor ball,” Helena said. “It promises to be the highlight of the season.”
“Aunt, please?” Meg looked as deprived as a pretty girl wearing a traveling dress in the first stare of fashion could manage.
“It would be no inconvenience, Lady Norwood,” Charles said. Unwilling admiration at Meg’s cheek vied with curiosity about what she planned.
“Aunt, it makes the most sense,” Meg said. “What can possibly be your objection?”
With a hunted expression, Sally pulled out of his hold. On the verge of victory, Charles found it in himself to feel sorry for her. Because what could she say?
He watched her square her shoulders as if preparing for an ordeal. Had he really fallen so low in her esteem? Or was Meg right that this jumpiness was a good sign? These last days, he’d had plenty of time to contemplate her behavior. If she found him attractive, but was muddle-headed enough to believe he’d chosen Meg, she had every cause to eschew his company.
He hoped to hell that wasn’t wishful thinking.
“Oh, I’m silly to hesitate.” She summoned a gallant smile for that invisible cove behind him. “Thank you, Sir Charles. I appreciate your kind offer, and I’ll gratefully accept.”
“Capital,” he said with a composure that in no way expressed the jubilation in his heart.
As Sally started to give orders to Barton and her other servants, Charles caught Meg’s eye. He hid a smile when she gave him a surreptitious wink.
* * *
Chapter Eight