Simply Perfect

  At first Claudia had been rather relieved when Charlie did not appear to claim the opening set she had promised him. She really did not want this morning’s question renewed. But then, after the set had begun, she felt somewhat annoyed. A gentleman she had met at the picnic yesterday had solicited her hand, and she had rejected him with the explanation that she had already promised the set. It felt a little humiliating to be forced to stand alone watching everyone else below the age of fifty dancing. And perhaps that gentleman would think she had lied and simply did not wish to dance with him. Charlie really ought not to have put her in such an awkward position. It was not courteous, and she would tell him so when he finally came. Of course, the thought did cross her mind that perhaps he was punishing her for her rejection of his proposal this morning. But he had asked her for the set after she had said a very firm no. She danced the next set—a vigorous country dance—with the Earl of Rosthorn and had just joined Anne and Sydnam afterward when someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder. It was a footman, who had brought her a note. From Charlie? From Joseph? Charlie had still not put in an appearance. “Excuse me,” she said, turning away slightly for some privacy and then breaking the seal and unfolding the letter. It was from Charlie. She ignored a very slight feeling of disappointment. “My dearest Claudia,” he had written, “it seems rather just to me that I should suffer now as perhaps you suffered eighteen years ago. For while I suffered then too, I was essentially the rejecter, as you are now. And it feels wretched to love yet be rejected. I will not wait for your answer this evening. You have already given it and I would not distress you by forcing you to repeat it. Miss Hunt is unhappy too. She feels, quite rightly, that she has been badly used here. We have been able to offer each other some comfort today. And perhaps we will be able to continue to do so for a lifetime. By the time you read this, we ought to be well on our way to Scotland, where we will marry without delay. She will, I believe, be a conscientious wife and duchess, and I will be a dutiful husband. I wish you well, Claudia. You will always be to me the sister I never had, the friend who made my growing years happy ones, and the lover who might have been had fate not intervened. Forgive me if you will for failing to keep my promise to dance with you this evening. Your humble, obedient servant, McLeith (Charlie).” Oh, goodness. She folded the letter into its original folds. Oh, goodness gracious. “Is anything wrong, Claudia?” Anne placed a hand on her arm. “Nothing.” She smiled. “Charlie is gone. He has eloped with Miss Hunt.” She was waving the letter before her rather like a fan. She did not know what to do with it. “I expect,” Sydnam said, taking it from her and sliding it into his pocket, “tea is being served in the refreshment room. Come with Anne and me, Claudia, and I will fetch you a cup.” “Oh, goodness,” she said. “Thank you. Yes. That would be just the thing. Thank you.” He offered his arm and she took it before remembering that he did not have another arm to offer Anne. She looked around the ballroom. Charlie was definitely not here. Neither was Miss Hunt. Joseph had disappeared too. Did he know yet?