chapter eight: this is me trying

❦

The next night appeared in the blink of an eye. Charlotte Wentworth kept mostly to herself after the late night encounter with Viscount Bridgerton. She did not know what came over her to tell him about her nightmares, then and now, but the regret that encased her caused the woman to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone the next morning and into the evening. However, it grew difficult to avoid people as she was surrounded by them at yet another ball.

Aubrey Hall was filled to the brim with workers hauling in large bouquets, cases of food, and decorations covering every corner of the ballroom. If Charlotte had not been used to such a decree of enchantment, one would say she would have been overwhelmed and overstimulated. But alas, she had bigger problems on her mind.

It was as if she could feel his eyes burning the back of her skull from wherever he decided to hide himself. Charlotte hoped her brother could not feel her hands tremble within the crevice of his elbow as they walked into the busy ballroom. So far, she had done a fair job in steering clear of her siblings' suspicions with her suddenly shaken behavior. She just hoped she could keep it up throughout the night, no matter what is thrown her way in the coming hours.

   Another person she had grown vigilant to avoid was Anthony Bridgerton himself. There were many instances where she caught him trying to approach her from
the corner of her eye, and that gave her enough leeway to create as much space between as possible. Her efforts were not purely out of embarrassment that he saw her in such a vulnerable state. It was the mere fact that she did, indeed, feel
something every time she was around him.

And that cannot happen.

   It cannot happen for a plethora of reasons, the main one beside her, glancing around the ballroom with excitement, practically bouncing her heels against the marbled floor. But before any of the siblings could put a word in, a figure had already made his presence known.

   "Miss Amelia," Lord Bridgerton bowed in greeting, extending his hand, "might I have your first dance?"

   Amelia smiled brightly, "certainly, my lord."

   Charlotte watched the two walk away hand in hand, not being able to fight her eyes from watching them as long as she wished to. After a long moment or two, too long for her liking, she whipped her head back to the front, only then noticing her brother gone and Lady Danbury hovering over the balcony, observing the crowd below. She joined her.

   "Have you been enjoying your time alone with the viscount?"

   Charlotte snapped her head toward the older woman with widened eyes at the choice of wording, which in turn, raised a brow.

   "Yesterday's hunt," Lady Danbury clarified, which made the young woman visibly relax, "it went well, I take it?"

   Charlotte nodded, "oh, yes. Of course, yes. Quite well, indeed."

   Lady Danbury only hummed at her answer before making her way down to the rest of the crowd, leaving Charlotte to herself. It took her a while for her to leave the security and sanctuary of the balcony, but she knew she had to join the rest of the ton at some point. It was toward the end of Amelia and Anthony's first dance when she slowly clamored down the stairs and stayed to the side with the rest of the onlookers.

It was hard to look away, yet hard to watch her sister and her suitor dance so intimately while she stood to the side, knowing she would never get to do anything like that again. However, Charlotte inwardly cursed such a distraction, knowing she had bigger things to worry about. And they were about to make their presence all the more known.

   "Miss Wentworth?"

   Charlotte whipped her head to the side in surprise at the unfamiliar voice, turning to see a maid holding a silver tray with a note placed on top. After saying a quiet thank you, the young woman took the note and opened it with wariness, inhaling deeply, clamming up as soon as she read the words before her.

I'm watching you, my dear. You always did look darling in pink.

- 𝓦

   Charlotte snapped her head side to side frantically as her chest dropped up and down in unsteady breaths. He was here. He was watching her. And there was nothing she could do about it. Too wrapped up in her own troubles, Charlotte neglected to realize the music around her stopped, and her sister was practically skipping toward her in delight.

   "Lord Bridgerton has gone to get me a lemonade."

   Charlotte nodded, her voice as clear as she could make it, "how very thoughtful of him."

   "We've just finished our second dance," Amelia shared, her dance card hanging from her wrist, "I'm certain he'd not have asked me for two if he did not have intentions for the evening."

   Charlotte sighed quietly, "I am pleased to hear that."

   "I need you to dance with him."

   "What?"

   "If he is going to declare himself before the end of the ball, as I hope, he shall need to ask you for your blessing," Amelia persisted, "and you are ready to grant him your blessing, are you not? Daniel has, and this may very well be my last chance."

   This was all too much. Far too much.

   "Miss Amelia," Lord Bridgerton approached the two sisters with two chalices of lemonade, handing it to the younger of the two.

   Amelia smiled upon greeting, "Lord Bridgerton. My sister and I were just speaking. She wishes to take to the floor."

   "Ah," Anthony raised a brow, looking around the ballroom, "well, I am certain that—"

   "With you."

Not taking no for an answer, Amelia took the chalice out of his hand, prompting the viscount to stand taller, offering his hand to the older sister in front of him, who looked at him with the slightest bit of apprehension.

   "Miss Wentworth, may I have this dance?"

   Her chest heaved with the shaken exhale she released as she took his hand, "you may, my lord."

   The two ventured to the dance floor as the music started, not breaking the steady eye contact between them. Charlotte's heart felt as if it could burst out of her chest. As she bowed to the viscount, and him to her, the two started dancing with the rest of the ton. Dancing during a ball instead of watching from the sidelines was a different experience for Charlotte, seeing as William never let her dance after the two wed. Just thinking of her former husband had the young woman breaking into a mild sweat as she tried to break her eyes away from the viscount, who seemed physically unable to keep his gaze away from her, unblinking, watching her in unwavering, curious desire.

   As they danced, Charlotte could feel everything times a million. His hands on her waist, the other in her own while spinning her, his breath against her ear, his chest against her back. And it was not until her chest was yet again against his back, their hands resting against her shoulder did she have the courage to break the tension filled silence between them.

   "Do you have something you wish to ask me, my lord, regarding my sister?"

   Lord Bridgerton spoke lowly into her ear, "if I were to ask for her hand, would you give me your permission?"

   Charlotte found her sister's gaze for a moment, "I want my sister to be happy."

   "And do you think I can make her happy?"

   "That is a better question for you. Can you make her happy," after not getting a response, Charlotte turned back around, placing a hand on his shoulder, the other in his own to continue their waltz, "if your silence is any indication you are reconsidering your declaration—"

   "Is that what you want," Anthony questioned without hesitation, his gaze unwavering, "for me to reconsider?"

Charlotte shook her head, "it does not matter what I want."

"I do not think that is true."

"I am to return to France the moment Amelia marries," the young woman shared, though in that moment, she wished she had not. Because being in his arms, everything else disappeared. William was not there watching her every move, Amelia was not the viscount's intended, and Charlotte was not withholding a secret that would change everything if revealed.

Anthony furrowed his brow, his tone changing, "you will abandon her?"

"Far from it, my lord. She will be married and my brother has decided to stay here with her," the two had stopped dancing in the middle of the floor, "she will not need me. There'll be no more reason for me to stay. Even if I wish to stay, it must be done."

As the song fades in the background, Charlotte gives her curtsy as a thank you for the dance, his eyes following her every move in disbelief as to what he just heard. She felt her heart drop to her stomach as he walked away from her and the ballroom all together, only to be replaced by her sister.

"Where is the viscount going?"

Amelia's panicked question snapped Charlotte out of her own pitying thoughts, "I—I do not know."

"Well, what did you say," the younger one asked incredulously.

"I," Charlotte sighed, her chest heaving, feeling winded all of a sudden, "I shall find him. Give me a moment."

The Wentworth walked hastily out of the ballroom with a purpose, her eyes scanning the long hallways in front of her as her feet seemed to move on their own to a destination unknown. It was only when she saw a familiar back and head of hair barreling toward the end of the hall did she pick up the bottom of her dress and pick up the pace of her feet to catch up with him. She did not call out his name for obvious reasons, one of them being not to draw attention to the two of them being alone together. Finally catching up to him, Charlotte quickly followed him into one of many empty studies Aubrey Hall had to offer.

   Charlotte shut the door and stayed by the fireplace as the man in front of her leaned against the desk as stress took over his body. Though she did not regret following him there, she did not have a plan as to what she was to do now that she was now with him again, alone.

"Why are you so distressed?"

The viscount paced back and forth in front of her, his breath increasing rapidly as he ignored her question, "when will you leave? Immediately, once your sister is married?"

Charlotte blinked, "I presume so, yes."

Lord Bridgerton looked down at the mahogany wood below him before looking up at her again, "and you'll not concern yourself with finding a match of your own?"

"Why would that concern you?"

   Exhaling deeply, the viscount rounded the desk to approach her, his voice rasping with emotion, "it seems to me you will find any excuse you can to keep me away from your sister. That is it, is it not? You simply do not like me."

   Charlotte felt her palms grow clammy, "of course I do not like you—"

   "Then tell me why," the man practically begged, and if he were any less of a man, he would have dropped to his knees, "have I done something to you? Why is it that you dislike me so?"

   "Because!"

  I have never felt anything like this before.

   I can hardly breathe around you.

   I can hardly think around you.

   I can hardly think of anything but you.

   "Because you vex me," was all Charlotte could muster in the heat of the moment, her lips almost spitting the words, "and I am trying with all my strength—all my being not to let that feeling consume me."

   The room grew quiet again, both of their chests heaving up and down drastically, trying to catch their breaths.

   Lord Bridgerton inhaled sharply, "and what is it, do you think, you do to me?"

Charlotte was almost too afraid to know the answer. Too afraid to hear what he had to say. A part of her yearned for him to leave. Turn his back to her and never speak to her again. But a part of her wanted desperately to let herself listen, not knowing when the next time she would ever have the chance to hear such words leave his lips. No matter the troubles that would follow.

   "What," she dared to utter, her breath shuttering with every syllable, "what do I do to you?"

   Anthony Bridgerton seemed to shake his head in disdain, but unbeknownst to her, he was filled with complete and utter frustration that built inside him every moment he was alone with her. He could not help himself with every step he took toward her, "you... You hate me."

   Charlotte could barely move her head to nod confidently, "yes. I do. I hate you."

   The woman could feel her heartbeat astoundingly hard in her chest as his unwavering gaze continued to study her. It was all too much for her to bear. His stare, the heat from the blazing fire beside them, the deafening silence between them. She could only hope—pray—there was a God above to show her some kind of mercy. With every step he took toward her, she begged her feet to take a step back, but it was as if she were glued to the floor. And before she knew it, they were close. So close. Too close.

   "I am a gentleman," the viscount whispered against her lips.

Charlotte could feel her breath intertwine with his, "and your heart is with my sister."

"And my heart is with your sister..."

Time slowed as the two became irrevocably molded as one. There was no escaping. Charlotte could barely breathe without her chest colliding with his. She could not move her head without her nose fluttering against his. She was trapped. Only this time, she never wanted to be set free.

The woman's eyes fluttered for a moment, whispering, "what are you doing?"

"Say you do not care for me," Lord Bridgerton challenged her, bringing his lips to her ear, sending a full shiver down her spine, "tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away."

Inhaling sharply, Charlotte showed her struggle clear as day as she fought to get her words out, "I feel... I feel..."

Frustrated...

Entranced..

Alive.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled the two to no end, yet that was exactly what happened to their seemingly never ending moment. Charlotte and Anthony jumped apart to see the latter's younger sister at the door, a surprised look gracing her own features as she laid eyes on the scene in front of her. A scene she never thought she would ever witness.

"Oh," Daphne exclaimed, watching her brother pace away from the Wentworth in the room, "I am so sorry."

"Daphne."

And as the moment was there, it was gone in a flash, leaving Charlotte alone in the study trying to catch her breath while having to face the reality of what she had done. And what this had meant moving forward for not only her, but for her sister as well.

❦

   No more tears. Charlotte told herself over and over she had no more tears to shed. But alas, she could not stop the tears from falling from her cheeks as she leaned against the balcony of her shared room later that evening.

   The tears could be shed on account of William's appearance, her parent's absence, Charlotte's own astounding sense of self-loathing. Yet, what outweighed everything was the overwhelming fact that continued to dwell on her mind was how she failed miserably as a sister. Everything she promised, everything she swore to do for Amelia—to protect, to teach, to provide, to nurture her. It all dwindled down into nothingness the second Charlotte laid eyes on the Viscount Bridgerton. And she had no one to blame but herself.

   The chilled night air was cold enough to start to freeze her damp cheeks. And though her mood could not have been lower, Charlotte could not help but appreciate the quiet brilliance the night brings. The clear dark sky, the ear-ringing silence that helped put everything into perspective. At least it usually did.

   "Your parents once told me you despised the cold."

   Charlotte snapped her head toward the sudden voice on the balcony, quickly wiping any stray wetness from her cheeks, "Lady Danbury. Erm, what are you still doing up?"

   "I could ask you the very same," the older woman leaned against her cane, observing the younger woman in front of her, "it's far too cold out here."

The Wentworth could not even blame her tears on a nightmare this late at night since sleep never came to her, "I am merely trying to let my sister sleep. I have been tossing and turning far too much."

   Lady Danbury hummed, "have you yet told your sister? About the real reason you and your family are here?"

   "I have not," Charlotte bowed her head in shame before collecting herself, inhaling sharply, "at this point, I fear there is no point in telling her. Lady Danbury, I fear there may be no proposal from the viscount. I fear I have ruined it for Amelia."

   "Because you two cannot get along?"

   Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat at the question, "yes."

   Lady Danbury narrowed her eyes, but not in a malicious manner, seemingly only in intrigue. As if she could not, for the life of her, understand what was going on inside the younger woman's head, "and why, when you are so close to getting what you want, what you need for not only your family's survival, but your own survival, and what Amelia so clearly wants for herself, are you getting in the way?"

   The Wentworth's eyes burned with another wave of tears laced with frustration, "I do not know. I do not know what to do."

   "There is only one thing to do," Lady Danbury implored, "be honest with your sister, with yourself. You must tell her how you feel."

   "About my dislike for the viscount?"

   "About whatever it is you feel."

   Lady Danbury's answer hung in the air as another somber wind floated around them. Charlotte was not as naive as the French knew her to be. She knew exactly what the woman in front of her was telling her to do. However, the question in front of her remained; would she be able to do it? Would she have the courage to completely destroy her sister's hopes and dreams for her own happiness?

   Nevertheless, Charlotte was going to have to be honest with her sister about something, whether she was ready or not.

❦

The week-long festivities at Aubrey Hall were at an end the next morning. Everyone from the ton that was invited was on their way back to their own lives with the entire Bridgerton family saying goodbye to everyone on the steps of the front entrance.

Charlotte took her time packing her things, which made the maids go absolutely mad, but she paid no mind. She did not even pay mind to Daniel watching her every move with an expression one could only define as disapproving. Though he did not know exactly what was going on in her own little world, and he would be damned to be kept in the dark for much longer.

As the family ventured down the steps of Aubrey Hall, Daniel took his chance to lean into his sister's ear, "we need to talk."

Charlotte inhaled sharply, speak through clenched teeth as she paraded a much warranted fake smile, "I am well aware, brother, and we will," she then turned her attention to her sister, who was on the other side of Daniel, "I am sorry things did not go as planned, Lia."

"It is not your fault, Lottie," the youngest Wentworth flashed her siblings the best smile she could given the circumstances, "we all did everything we could have done. The viscount's feelings are clearly not there for me. Perhaps they are elsewhere."

At her words, Charlotte paused in her step, watching her sister start to climb into the carriage after Lady Danbury. It was at that moment, she knew what she had to do. She could no longer wait until they were back at the Danbury Estate. She could no longer carry the weight, the guilt, of Amelia thinking she failed. It was time to tell her sister everything.

"Amelia," the young woman's call stopped her sister in her step before she made it into the carriage, "there is something I must tell you."

"Wait."

   Anthony Bridgerton rushed down the stairs of his family home, much to everyone's surprise, his focus solely on the family moments away from leaving.

   "Lord Bridgerton," Charlotte muttered in surprise at his sudden arrival.

   "Might I speak with you?"

   "Of course."

   "That was meant for Miss Amelia."

   "My Lord?"

   In a single moment, Charlotte's entire world stopped spinning. As soon as she watched Anthony Bridgerton get down on one knee in front of her sister, she knew it was over. She felt her breath leave her body as she nearly fell into Daniel, who caught her body instantly.

   "Miss Amelia Wentworth," the viscount presented the ring, "will you marry me?"

   "Yes!"

❦

peace & love—comment & vote
edited: june 2024