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the room.

Discussed? Their earlier conversation had been anything but a discussion. The clarity in her mother’s eyes had only made everything she’d said worse.

“You will charm Lord Samuelson by whatever means necessary,” Lady Wynn had begun that afternoon when she’d asked Charlotte what she intended to wear.

They had been in Charlotte’s bedchamber, which afforded some privacy without her father’s presence, prompting Charlotte to try to explain her unease.

“Mother, I don’t see what the hurry is for me to marry anyone, let alone Lord Samuelson.”

“It isn’t for you to understand. We must follow your father’s wishes in this.”

“But I don’t care for the lord.” Nothing about him appealed to her. He was unpleasant in both manner and looks.

She had yet to find a subject they agreed on. She enjoyed riding, but he did not. She liked to visit museums, but he did not. He thought attractions such as Vauxhall Gardens and Astley’s Amphitheatre vulgar. She’d been so frustrated with the conversation during their drive in Hyde Park that she finally asked what he did enjoy.

“I find politics interesting as well as farming techniques. A hand of whist at my club is always a pleasure, especially when it involves a wager. I have no desire to travel beyond England’s shores as I saw enough of the world during my Grand Tour to convince me that there is no country greater than ours.”

While Charlotte agreed that England was wonderful, she longed to see how people in other countries lived. Surely, there was much to be learned from doing so.

“I hope you don’t enjoy reading,” Lord Samuelson had said as he guided the horses along Rotten Row with a heavy hand. “There’s nothing worse than an over-educated female with strong opinions on issues that are none of her concern.”

Though she knew she should hold her tongue, how could she? She refused to stop reading once she married nor did she care to have to hide the pleasure she gained from books. She knew her father would be appalled at the conversation, but this was their chance to learn more about each other and work through issues before they arose. And if Lord Samuelson took a sudden dislike to her, all the better.

Yet she only had to remember her mother’s expression during her visit with her father to tread carefully. She couldn’t put her wishes above that of her mother’s wellbeing.

“Actually, I do like to read,” she admitted. “Very much.”

“Poetry?” he’d asked with a hopeful tone.

“Yes, but I read all sorts of books. I enjoy learning new things.”

“Such as better ways to manage a household?” He looked down his nose at her, his thin lips pressed together. No doubt he often did that to hide his unsightly teeth.

Compromise, she reminded herself and did her best to hold back her temper. “I can’t say that I’ve read any books on that particular topic. Do you enjoy reading mysteries? The author A. Golden has written several that are enthralling.”

Lord Samuelson scoffed. “I have much weightier subjects on my mind than imaginary crimes.”

“What do you do for entertainment?” She wanted to understand how he spent his leisure time.

He frowned as if he found her question odd. “The usual pursuits. Going to my club, watching the races, reading the newssheet.”

“I’ve never been to a horse race.” As she pondered the idea, she thought she might enjoy it. If only she could have gone to one with James. “What’s it like?”

“Nothing a proper lady should see.”

“But many ladies attend the races.”

“Not ladies with whom I associate.”

Charlotte bit back a retort. The conversation only made her long for James. He’d not only appreciated her joy of learning and adventure but shared it.

She’d given up on finding an interest she shared with Lord Samuelson after that.

Now as she glanced around the ballroom in search of him, she told herself she needed to accept her fate. If her father was set on the man as her future husband, there was little she could do—or rather, nothing she could do—to change his mind.

Charlotte stole a look at her mother. Perhaps she would also find herself seeking refuge in frequent glasses of sherry once she was married to the lord. Something to dull her senses so she could bear her life.

The idea was so depressing that she closed her eyes briefly.

“There he is,” her mother whispered, which had Charlotte opening her eyes to follow her gaze. “Prepare yourself. And for goodness sake, smile.”

“Good evening to you both,” Lord Samuelson said with a bow. “May I have the honor of a dance?” he asked Charlotte after pleasantries were exchanged.

“The pleasure would be mine.” She curtsied with what she hoped resembled a smile rather than a grimace.

He escorted her to the dance floor, not bothering with conversation. She pushed aside the ache at the thought of James and comforted herself that at least this was one thing she and Lord Samuelson both enjoyed.

The scotch reel was a lively dance, and her spirits rose as the music began. While Lord Samuelson wasn't especially light on his feet, she ignored his lack of skill for the moment and focused on the steps. The faces of those along the dance floor were a blur as they moved quickly across the floor.

But one face was clearly visible and caused her to falter.

James.

Her heart hammered, threatening to escape her chest. She quickly caught up with the other dancers yet couldn't help but crane her neck to look for him, wondering if she’d been mistaken. What was he doing there? She certainly hadn’t expected to see him this evening. Especially given the way they’d parted.

She’d only had a glimpse of him, but he seemed to be watching her intently. Or was that merely her imagination? Did he wish to speak to her? Though her heart lifted at the thought, she quickly reined in her hope. If he suggested a new adventure despite her having told him she was done with them, she’d have to refuse. Her low spirits returned, and the dance lost

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