Enamored with a Scarred Duke: A Clean Historical Regency Romance Book by Sally Forbes

Author:Sally Forbes [Forbes, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

There were a few blessed days free from social events.

And Charles could not even enjoy them.

He kept replaying that night at Dowager Fernwood’s musical evening over and over in his head. He could feel the smooth, cold ivory of the keys beneath his fingers, and he could hear Miss Waverly’s voice lilting up and down around the words. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the story unfolding in just a few verses.

He wanted to see her again.

There had been little time to speak at the musical evening. Dowager Fernwood had planned everything out vigorously. To invite her son, of course she had to invite Lady Fernwood, and to invite her, she was forced to invite Miss Waverly. Charles was fairly sure that was the only reason Miss Waverly was there at all, although she had pointedly not been asked to perform.

The evening, of course, had not gotten better. Performer after performer climbed the low platform, all in Lady Thomasin’s style. Harp players twanged their way through dreamy arias which seemed to have no discernible beginning, middle, or end, pianoforte players thumped diligently through well-memorized tunes, sometimes singing. The songs were all genteel ballads, all fashionable, all well-known.

Afterwards, they retired to the dining room for refreshments, where the seats were picked out, and Charles was seated well away from Miss Waverly, who had once again been separated from her friends.

He’d received several cards and invitations from the mammas of some of the ladies introduced to him, and he had steadfastly ignored all of them.

None of the invitations were from Miss Waverly, or from the Fernwoods. He hadn’t seen her now for over three days.

Well, that was the way things were here. In London, one might run into the same person every day in a week, at balls, soirees, picnics, and so on. Bath was a little more subdued.

What now, then?

It bothered Charles that he was so keen to see her again. What good would it do him? Miss Waverly – he’d started calling her Lydia in his head, even though that was probably a bad idea – would hate him as soon as she found out who he was. Even if everybody else told Charles that he wasn’t to blame for Edmund’s death, Lydia would believe that he was.

He groaned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

It was barely eight o’ clock in the morning, and Charles had not slept well. Eventually, he’d given up. He got dressed and gone down to his study, where there was work aplenty to keep him busy.

He hadn’t done any of the work, of course. He couldn’t focus. Whenever he perused an important letter, opened a ledger, or even put his pen to paper, he found himself thinking of Miss Waverly. He thought of the way she’d looked, what she’d said, the inflection in her voice, the way his music and her voice had mingled so perfectly together…

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes.

I’m falling in love with her, he thought desperately.

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