The Corinthians Series: Rules of Masquerade

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Charlotte could not see a damn thing.

Groping for the half moon spectacles that rested on her little nose, she adjusted the seeing aid. Charlotte held out her hand and Fanny quickly supplied her mistress with a hand held mirror. The image that greeted her on the mirror was blurry and fuzzy. She could make out black hair and a pinkish face sporting a curious expression. Behind the lenses everything Charlotte saw was distorted and unclear, edges were blurred. Charlotte twisted her lips in annoyance. How does one see by means of this blasted contraption? 

“How do I look?” She put down the hand mirror beside her on the settee and angled her face in Fanny’s direction. “Do I look like a spinster in the making?”

“Would you really choose spinsterhood over marrying the duke milady?” Fanny spoke up in a small voice. Charlotte took off the spectacles and let it dangle around her neck. She sighed as things came to a sharper perspective and pinned her eyes on Fanny. Her maid was sitting on the opposite settee, looking as distressed as she always does whenever Charlotte was scheming. 

“Unfortunately Fanny, yes, I would rather die alone surrounded by cats than marry that old man.” Her fingers touched the flimsy golden chain attached to the spectacles around her neck. If she had to pretend to fumble, squint and grope about like a blind bat for the rest of her life then so be it! She was not marrying the duke regardless of her father's aspirations.

“But milady, you are allergic to cats.” Fanny piped squeakily while pouring a fresh tea into Charlotte’s empty cup. They were spending the afternoon in one of the salons while Charlotte was trying on her late mama’s spectacles. The earl had brought it to her earlier in the day. After Charlotte had put it on for him the earl hastily excused himself out of the room, handkerchief dabbing his eyes, saying that Charlotte was the spitting image of her dear mama.

Charlotte slumped dramatically on the floral upholstered divan and rested her hand above her heart. “Don’t you see Fanny dear, the world is conspiring against me! Oh the heartache, the heartache! I am doomed to a life of perpetual unhappiness.”

Fanny edged closer to her mistress to offer her comfort. Flipping open a fan she began fanning her miserable mistress. “But think of the positives milady, you’ll be a Duchess of Hartington: one of the most powerful in England they say.”

Charlotte reopened her eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Wealth and status are not enough reason for one to marry.”

“Then what does one should marry for, My Lady Charlotte?” That voice, Charlotte would know that insufferable voice anywhere! Turning around she saw the marquess walking into the salon, hands in his pocket. Unable to help herself she rolled her eyes while he bowed in front of her. Fanny shot onto her feet and poured him a cup of tea and the marquess helped himself to a pumpkin tart as he sat. Inwardly she groaned: what is the world coming to when men can parade into a lady’s sanctuary uninvited?

“Lord Sheldrake what a surprise.”

"A pleasant one I hope?" He took the last bite of the tart and washed it down with tea. 

"That depends, my lord." She grunted, reached for her tea and drunk the liquid to overcome the sudden stuffiness engulfing her chest. But unfortunately for Charlotte the tea was hot and blistered her tongue. She yelped and Fanny quickly came to her rescue by offering her a glass of cool water. After the humiliating moment had ended Charlotte’s ear was filled by a musical sound of a chuckle.

“It’s impolite to laugh at a lady.” Charlotte retorted, accusing gaze directed at the grinning marquess.

“I apologize, how rude of me. Are you all right?”