chapter ten: doomsday
( trigger warning: explanations of abusive content. )

❦

   Rosanna Wentworth was always an optimist. A woman full of light who looked at the brighter days ahead instead of the dreary days in the present. Someone who saw glasses half full instead of half empty. Someone who no matter what, looked down at her children with a smile on her face. Mother was calm, she always had an answer to everything. She was light on her feet, and she had her optimism and strength to thank for that.

Charlotte wished she had just an ounce of what her mother had. She wished she could see the good in everything and everyone. In every situation, in every intention. But she couldn't. Especially on a night like tonight. As the young woman sat at her vanity, already dressed and ready for the night ahead of her, she brushed her hair absentmindedly with one thought drifting in her mind. That this singular moment was only the calm before a most dangerous, and powerful storm, waiting to sink the ship she took forever to build to protect not only herself, but everyone she loved.

The young woman really did not know what to expect from her grandparents. Would they look at her and immediately shame her? Or flat out pretend as though she did not exist? Charlotte did not know which was worse, come to think of it. Nevertheless, this dinner was not about her. It was about Amelia. Her happiness would be worth it in the end. Charlotte just had to keep reminding herself of that so she would not put herself in a panic.

   Since returning to the Danbury Manor and was immediately taken upstairs by the ladies-in-waiting to get ready for the dinner, Charlotte could feel her body start to reject the events taking place sooner and sooner as the clock ticked down. Amelia was far too excited to see the grandparents she hadn't seen since her older sister's season to notice a change in behavior, but Charlotte did not blame her.

   This was something Charlotte would have to go through on her own.

"Our guests have arrived."

Through the mirror of her vanity, Charlotte met the expectant eyes of Lady Danbury, who stood at the doorway of the bedroom. The young woman placed her brush on the desk before her with a sigh, before getting up and making her way toward her late mother's close friend.

   But before Charlotte could pass the older woman and make her way through the threshold, a certain cane blocked her from doing so. Charlotte looked up from her view of the floor, "you may spare me any instruction or pep-talk, Lady Danbury. I know I am to be on my best behavior."

Lady Danbury merely nodded, studying the young woman in front of her, "you really are so much like your mother. Trying all you can for those you love no matter the cost of yourself. You may not believe me when I tell you this, my dear, but perhaps it would surprise you to learn that I am hosting this dinner for the betterment of everyone involved. Truth will out, one way or another. And I can tell you, it will not be easy, but I will do my best to make it as painless as possible. Now, come along. Our guests are waiting."

As Charlotte looped arms with the woman, she reminded herself to breathe. And as she met her siblings in the hall of the entrance to the tearoom, she reminded herself to breathe once more. And once she finally laid eyes on her grandparents, who seemed to be having pleasant conversation with Lord and Lady Bridgerton to pass the time, she reminded herself a third time. She suspected a pattern was afoot.

   Lady Danbury took the lead of entering the room with the three Wentworth siblings behind her, "ah, Lord and Lady Blakewood, it has been too long. May I present Mr. Wentworth, Miss Wentworth and Miss Amelia Wentworth."

   Theodora Blakewood gravitated toward the youngest of the siblings instantly, beaming from ear to ear, "oh, my dear, look at you. You've grown so much since we last saw you. Isn't she quite as lovely as the report said?"

   "You are too kind," Amelia bowed her head humbly, "I am most happy to be reunited with you again."

   "And we you, my dear," Lady Blakewood instantly agreed, "I wish to be caught up on everything about you. Do you still enjoy dancing? Music?"

   "You must accompany us to the opera. We have a fine box which has been gathering dust," Lord Blakewood suggested with a bit of joking shame attached, hinting to their presence being missed.

   Violet Bridgerton concurred politely from next to her son, who had only been observing the scene, "indeed, it has been too long since we've seen you both in town, Lord and Lady Blakewood."

   "Yes, indeed, it has."

   Eyes then begrudgingly made their way over to the older Wentworth siblings who were also silent so far into the reunion. While Daniel stood, almost irritably, with his arms crossed against his chest, Charlotte stood almost a bit behind him with her hands clasped together in front of her. By the looks of the two of them, they looked as though they knew they weren't getting any hugs or warm greetings of their own any time soon.

"Grandmama," Daniel greeted them on behalf of him and his sister beside him, to which they barely acknowledged with a hum, "grandpapa."

   Amelia did her best to bring the attention back to her, seeing just how uncharacteristically quiet her siblings were being, "I do enjoy the opera. Charlotte is the one who introduced me to it."

As another awkward pause commenced at the sound of the older Wentworth woman's name, a footman came in just in time to signal for dinner. Lady Danbury seemed most delighted for the interruption, "ah. Shall we go through to dinner?"

"Oh, yes. Come with me, dear," Lady Blakewood guided Amelia out of the room with everyone following in tow.

Taking their time to leave the room, Daniel and Charlotte glanced at each other in complete disarray at what awaits them at the dinner table. If only they knew this was only the beginning.

❦

Dinner started mundane, much to Charlotte's surprise. No sarcastic remarks, no scoldings of any kind, no "grandmama knows best" speeches. At least, not yet. But Charlotte knew better, It was coming. And she was on the highest of alerts.

While the young woman kept to herself while sitting next to her grandmama and across from the viscount, the conversation was lively from the others around the table. Mostly the Blakewoods wanting to get to know their grandchild's future husband. Upon the conversation of the wedding, Charlotte was nervous her grandparents would start attacking her immediately about her situation with William, but alas, they have bitten their tongue. She only hoped those tongues would remain on a leash for the entirety of the evening.

Charlotte took a small sip of wine, trying to appear as invested in conversation as possible, as Lady Blakewood came down from another laugh, "and, of course, you must be our guests at the Blakewood manor. It is nothing compared to the estates at Aubrey Hall, to be sure, but I think it a most pretty part of Paris."

"Do you shoot," Lord Blakewood asked the viscount directly, "we have a fine stock of birds, and you are always welcome."

   Viscount Bridgerton hummed politely from beside his betrothed, "thank you for the invitation. I do enjoy shooting."

   "Charlotte still shoots, grandpapa," Amelia brought up excitedly, oblivious to the way her grandparent's smiles falter a bit, "the two of them almost bagged a stag on our trip to the country."

Lord Blakewood let out a cross between a grunt and a clearing of his throat, "we told Nicolas countless times a lady has no place on the shooting grounds. I see he did not take our words seriously."

   Charlotte could not help but scoff under her breath, "as if my father would listen to such chauvinist ideals."

Though her comment was quiet, it was heard around the table, causing an uncomfortable hush to lay claim over the room. And some may think she spoke out of turn, but she was not wrong in the slightest. Nicolas Wentworth's colleagues would always wonder why he allowed his daughter to take part in activities like horseback riding, shooting or combat instead of needlepoint, sewing or cooking. And the simple answer he always gave was because Charlotte wanted to learn such things.

   Charlotte always admired that about her father. How he always stuck to what he believed in, how he listened to her. How he never shooed her away because of what she "should be" doing. It only made the young woman resent her grandparents even more. Every chance they had, they tried to change everything about her. What she liked to do, what she dressed in, how her hair looked, everything. And that resentment only grew tenfold when the Blakewoods introduced her parents to the idea of finding Charlotte a suitor so early into her introduction to society which ultimately lent her into the hands of her future husband.

   Watching his sister with a combination of pity and wariness, Daniel exhaled before taking the attention off of her, "uh, how long do you plan to remain in town, grandmama?"

   "Oh, we shall stay for the wedding," the woman nearly jumped in her seat in excitement, her granddaughter's quarrel already forgotten, "imagine. The Queen herself overseeing my granddaughter's nuptials. Her Majesty is kind to look past how most of the ton still cannot look us in the eye, here and in France."

   Lord Blakewood cleared his throat, "now, now. We are all family here."

   "Oh, yes, of course we are," Lady Blakewood agreed with her husband wholeheartedly with a sort of coo, "even after our granddaughter so recklessly abandoned the match we had found for her."

   And there it was. 
       
   Charlotte's breath hitched inside her throat as she remained still in her chair. Those who were not in the know glanced around the table in confusion as those who knew only looked to the table in preparation for what was to come. There was nothing they could do to stop the impending storm, complete with irreparable damage in its wake.

   "My dear, we agreed to—"

   "A Lord, no less, with 12,000 acres. Any other young lady would've fallen to her knees in gratitude that her grandparents were showing such care."

   Lady Bridgerton chuckled nervously, "this sauce is delicious, Lady Danbury. Have your cook give mine the recipe."

   "It is the gooseberry, I believe," Lady Danbury took her watchful eyes off of Charlotte to try and sway the conversation, "Lady Blakewood, you've got quite the sweet tooth, I do recall?"

   "And all for what? A life of a lonesome spinster," Lady Blakewood continued in her rant about the young woman beside her, "we haven't been able to show our faces in society for months. Not that she should care. She simply sailed away from all of us with her siblings, like the selfish, undeserving, thoughtless brat she is."

   "Well, that selfish, undeserving, thoughtless brat has a name. And she is also sitting right beside you."

Though Charlotte wished she was the one to stick up for herself in her moment of need, she was glad she had Daniel to do it for her. She could not even get her mouth to open for the life of her. It was all happening so fast. And above all—she could feel piercing brown eyes burn into her skin from across from her, begging her to meet his gaze. A gaze she could not meet out of pure shame and embarrassment.

Daniel shook his head plainly, the hush of the table almost deadly to match the expression gracing his features, "how dare you? How dare you come into this house and say such things? You have no idea what you are talking about and I will not stand to listen to you talk about my sister with such foul language for another moment. The circumstances of us coming here were out of our control and we had no other choice. And if you cared for us at all, you would see that. But clearly, you do not."

   Lady Blakewood only scoffed, unimpressed, "oh, please, Daniel, you are one to talk. You speak with such rigor and yet you fail to see how your sister is once again polluting our family name! I am surprised she is allowed to sit with such important people in the English ton. Do they know about her transgressions? Her failures?"

   Amelia furrowed her brow, "Lottie? What are they talking about?"

   "Leaving poor William in the middle of the night so suddenly with no idea of where his wife was," Lady Blakewood would not stop her crusade on everything Charlotte had built around her. It was all crumbling down. The older woman turned to her husband, "my dear, do you remember when the poor boy came to our house that morning? He was a wreck. His eyes were wild, like the wind had been knocked out of him or something. I had never seen someone so panicked."

   Violet Bridgerton watched her son closely, "Anthony, did you know about this?"

   The viscount only shook his head, trying to remain calm, but there were only so many insults he could hear before he, too, had enough of listening to this woman squalor about the young woman across from him. The young woman who had grown increasingly silent and pale since the dinner had begun.

   "When he told us he could not find, not only his wife, but any of our grandchildren, we knew exactly what happened. That girl never wanted to listen to anything we told her to do since the minute she had an inkling to think for herself. Something she no doubt picked up from her parents. And now look how she turned out!"

"That is enough," Anthony Bridgerton raised his voice sternly, silencing the entire table, "I can only think you've been exiled from good society because of your deficient manners rather than any other sin. Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Wentworth family, and I will not stand for it."

"I declare—"

"—I will not... stand for it," the viscount sent a menacing glare to Lord Blakewood for even attempting to interrupt him, "the late Lord and Lady Wentworth have done admirably well in raising their children before their untimely deaths. And since then, they have done a remarkable job at taking care of each other and are a credit to both their parents. And since you have not spoken her name this entire dinner, let me do it for you. Charlotte Wentworth is unlike anyone I have ever met. She is an intelligent, kind, and loyal woman, who does not deserve such horrible people such as yourselves as family. And since you do not wish to jeopardize your social standing by associating with such company, I suggest you do not. You may leave at once!"

Charlotte did not realize tears had started streaming down her pale cheeks until she jumped in her seat, startled from how the viscount slammed his tablecloth down on the table as he got up from his own seat to address his footman. The young woman did what she used to do in situations such as these and shut her eyes until she felt it was safe to open them once again. Until it was all over. Until it was quiet. Voices echoed in her ear, heels clicked on the floor behind her. And then suddenly, silence.

Opening her eyes on a whim, Charlotte was met with everyone, except for her grandparents, still in the room. And though she felt immense relief at the sight, the young woman still felt immense pressure in her chest.

All Charlotte wished to do was get up and explain herself. To release everything she had longed to say to everyone in the room. To Amelia, why she really pulled her out of the comforts of her bed sheets and onto a rocky boat in the middle of the night to the country she had never been to, with the excuse to find her a husband of her own. To Daniel, a long overdue apology for turning his life upside down overnight when she did not have the strength to leave on her own accord. To Anthony, how she was wed before, the laughing stock of the French ton, how her husband liked it to be that way, how every night she wished for someone to save her from the torments of her own household. But she could not seem to find it in her to get up, to even look anyone in the eye, to focus on anyone but her uneaten, untouched plate of food before her. Because, deep down, Charlotte knew, it was all over.

   Sometime between their grandparents leaving and Charlotte coming to her senses, Daniel had knelt beside her chair, grabbing her hand, "Charlotte? Lottie, it's alright, okay? They're gone."

   "Perhaps we should take our leave," Violet Bridgerton offered with a saddened sigh at the young woman's state, "Lady Danbury, thank you for the evening."

   The thought of Lord Bridgerton leaving without having heard her side of the story made Charlotte's skin crawl. This was exactly what she was afraid of. Him or anyone learning of her past and instantly thinking she was at fault. She could not take the responsibilities it took to be a wife, to love someone, to take care of someone. That she was weak, not good enough. And even if that were true, he needed to hear it from her lips, not anyone else's. She needed to speak with him, no matter her emotional state.

   "Wait," the word slipped from her mouth without realizing, soft but audible to those in the room, surprised to hear her voice at all after the debacle they had just witnessed. Charlotte slowly looked up at both Bridgerton's devastatingly, pleadingly, "please, do not go. I shall explain everything."

   The two Bridgerton's exchanged a glance before nodding in an agreement to stay and listen. And though he was grateful that he would be getting an explanation, the viscount was aching for even just a moment alone with the young woman. Seeing her in such a vulnerable state made his heart ache in such a way only being in a room with just the two of them could fix.

Charlotte pursed her lips before taking her hands out of her brother's firm grip, wiping excess water away from her cheeks to collect herself, "Amelia, please go to our room. I will speak to you soon."

"But Lottie—"

"—Sister, do as you are told," Daniel finalized, keeping his tone as gentle but firm as possible, "we will be with you as soon as our guests take their leave."

Misty eyed, Amelia looked between her two siblings before her betrothed. Surely he could override their decision. However, the viscount could not meet her eye, for he was too focused on her sister who was slowly starting to collect herself. Seeing she was now outnumbered, Amelia made haste with her exit, not wanting anyone to see the inevitable tears making their way down her cheeks.

Lady Danbury stood from her chair, "Lord and Lady Bridgerton, please accompany me to the drawing room. The Wentworth's will be with us shortly."

   As soon as the siblings were alone, the door to the dining room shut, Charlotte bolted out of her seat and started pacing the room, a shot of adrenaline bursting through her so suddenly she felt the tips of her fingers start to buzz. She felt as though she had just woken up from a terrible dream that made her jolt awake. Eyes wide open, all five senses on high alert.

   Daniel watched his sister closely, and with a bit of caution, "sister, are you alright?"

   "I am fine."

   "... You don't have to do anything you do not want to do."

   Charlotte wrung her hands together nervously, "I am perfectly aware of that, brother. I am only trying to... Just let me think."

   How exactly did Charlotte want to go about explaining her most vulnerable experience without having the urge to completely fall apart and make a fool of herself? What would her mother do? Her mother who would not let anyone or anything stand in her way of speaking her truth. Her mother who would never take such insults tongue in cheek, no matter who spat them at her from every direction. Rosanna Wentworth was a kind woman, yes, but not to the point of being taken for weakness.

Taking her first steady breath of the entire evening, the entire day perhaps, Charlotte stilled her pacing, only to turn around to face her brother with a new found confidence, "let us go."

   Daniel followed his sister out of the double doors, his brow rising in impressiveness at her change in stature, letting her lead the way to the drawing room of the Danbury Manor. He watched as the young woman took one more deep breath before letting herself into the room where their guests were waiting. The three waiting stood when the siblings entered, to which Charlotte rejected such respectful movement.

   "Please, sit," the Wentworth sister raised a hand to gesture them to do as such. Once they did as she suggested, her brother following suit, she mustered the courage to begin, ignoring the growing out of nerves in her stomach, "firstly, I want to apologize for ruining such a wonderfully planned dinner, Lady Danbury. It wasn't my intention to create such a scene with my grandparents. In fact it was a scene to which I tried my best to avoid as much as possible. I would also like to express my deepest apologies to you, Lord and Lady Bridgerton, for such a disruption, not only on your evening away from your family, but for keeping such a secret from you if we are to become family one day. It was not my intention to be deceitful with my choice to keep my past hidden, but a way to protect my little sister. And I would do it again."

   Violet Bridgerton smiles softly at the young woman, "it is quite alright, my dear. Rest assured, you do not have to tell anyone in this room anything you do not want to."

   "Thank you, Lady Bridgerton," Charlotte's eyes could not help but wander over to the woman's son, who was only watching her, his glare he had pointed toward her grandparent's was now replaced with a softened look of focused curiosity. She looked down to avoid his intense gaze, swallowing a harsh sudden lump in her throat, "as my brother and Lady Danbury are already aware of, I was married before. He was not the kindest man to have as a husband. What started off as gestures of affection and love turned into sleepless nights full of conflict and pain. I believe that if my brother hadn't... helped me when he did, I would not be standing here in front of you. That is why we had to leave so suddenly. That is why my grandparents despise me, so. No one knows the truth. And no one ever can."

   "But, my dear, if you come forward with the truth—"

   "—I will only be forced to go back with him and fulfill my duties no matter the cost of my freedom, my... safety," Charlotte forced a bitter smile toward Lady Bridgerton, "being known as a lonesome spinster seems a better fit for me anyway."

"Excuse me."

Anthony Bridgerton had heard enough. It was clear as day what she was insinuating. What she had gone through before traveling to London. How her past explained her protectiveness and attitude toward him and his efforts of courting her sister. How at every turn, she denied her true affections for him when he let his own creep in, even in the slightest of ways. Her hyper-fixation of her actions in public, her wariness around strangers—men in particular, her hatred of storms. The flinching, the fighting, the deflecting. Everything. It all made sense. How could he have been so blind to it?

   He made haste with his exit from the drawing room. He had not realized where he had been heading until he had made his way into a random study. The viscount was also in his head far too much to notice a certain young woman running after him soon after he excused himself from the drawing room.

   Charlotte was caught off guard when Lord Bridgerton left hastily from the drawing room in such a hurry, but did not think twice when making the decision to go after him. She knew his silence was too good to be true. His opinions on the matter were on the tip of his tongue, and she was going to hear them one way or another.

   "My Lord, you must know, this was not another attempt to upset you," the Wentworth tried to find the words to explain herself as she watched the man pace back and forth fervently, his chest rising up and down heavily, his feet burning holes in the floor, "I only meant to—"

   "Stop talking."

   "... My Lord?"

   "Stop. Talking."

Though Charlotte was never one to follow such commands so easily. Furrowing her brow, she grew defensive at his harsh tone, "if it is Amelia you are worried about, you must know she is innocent in all of this. She has no idea and as soon as you leave I will be telling her everything. Coming to England, finding her a match. I only wished the best for her. You cannot be angry at her."

"I am not," Lord Bridgerton ceased his pacing, "it is clear she was as much in the dark as I was about your secrets. Clearly, both Miss Amelia and I have been misled, and it is best to call off this doomed engagement before it is the cause of any more strife, seeing as the ears of the ton are easily keen to gossip. Of course, I'd never besmirch either of your reputations. My mother and Lady Danbury will come up with a plan—"

Charlotte shook her head at his preposterous idea, "there shall be no plan. I do not understand. Why are you suggesting this? All along, you have been set on marrying my sister, despite my every objection, might I add, and now you intend to cast her aside. Why? What has she done?"

"She has done nothing. It is you. You have made this match impossible."

"But I am leaving for France!"

"And it is not far enough," the viscount snapped with a blaze in his eyes. Charlotte faltered in her stance as the man before her continued, "do you think that there is a corner of this Earth that you could travel to far away enough to free me from this torment? I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence. You are the bane of my existence. And the object of all my desires."

   Charlotte felt as though she had no choice but to let the man come closer to her as she felt every morsel of her body come alive. For once in her life, she was utterly speechless. No man had ever uttered such words of complete devotion to her. The tears she swore would never rise again had made their appearance once more.

   "Night and day," he spoke against her lips, their breaths intertwining harmoniously, "I dream of you. And what I... Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you. The things I would do to make you forget everything he has done to you."

   Shaking her head as her forehead was pressed against his, the feeling of his fingers caressing her bare cheek only to cup the back of her neck, "I did not ask for this," she whispered, "to be plagued by these feelings. Hiding from my sister. Being driven to distraction every time you enter the room."

"Then you agree. It is insupportable," he muttered against her lips as the two seemed to thrive on their near touch.

Charlotte nodded her head, only slightly, her nose brushing with his each time, "impossible."

Before their lips could finally embrace, the viscount seemed to come down to reality, shaking his head while stepping away from her. He rubbed his forehead in pure frustration, "if I wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps. Is that the future that you want for us? For your sister?"

Charlotte exhaled shakily, looking down at her feet, which was enough of an answer for him. No matter what they felt, both of them knew she would never do anything if it meant hurting her sister. She would die before anything happened to Amelia.

   Distant voices in the hall grew louder, catching their attention, causing the viscount to sigh, knowing their time together was coming to an end, "I should go," before leaving the room entirely, he turns to address her once more, "meet me behind the Lady Corning's bookstore at daybreak tomorrow. We will speak more then."

   Charlotte gives him a silent nod of acknowledgement before watching him leave the room. Now alone, she gave herself a much needed moment to collect herself before going up to her room where another person she owed an explanation to awaited. The night could not have been moving any slower.

❦

Charlotte told her brother she did not need him present for her talk with Amelia, much to his dismay. And though his reaction was quite amusing, almost like a child not getting their favorite candy in a candy store, she knew she had to talk to her little sister on her own. However, the nerves were still there no matter how many times she reassured herself it was all going to be okay and her sister was no one to be afraid of talking to.

   Opening the door to the sister's shared room, Charlotte's heart clenched at the sight in front of her. Amelia was sitting across the seat along the window, looking upon the moonlit night, as though she wished she drifted aimlessly amongst the stars. If that was what Amelia truly wished, Charlotte would wish it with her.

Once ready to announce her presence, knowing after that, there was truly no going back, Charlotte lightly tapped her knuckles on the wooden door, "Amelia?"

The youngest Wentworth slowly glanced toward her sister with a blank expression before looking back at the window, "ever since the viscount has been courting me, I have sensed you were not being entirely truthful. And now I know I was right. Your marriage with William, the three of us coming here so suddenly. You did not trust me enough to tell me what was really going on."

"I am truly sorry, Lia, for keeping you in the dark for so long. But that ends now. May I sit," Charlotte gestured to the empty space on the bench, to which her sister reluctantly agreed to let her have. Exhaling, the young woman let herself play with her cuticles while she began talking aimlessly, "after Mum and Dad died, I took it upon myself to take you under my wing. I wanted everything to be perfect by the time your season came. Taking you to your lessons, teaching you everything I knew in between. And... I guess with that, I neglected looking after myself when it came to my own life. And that came with consequences. I didn't see what was right in front of me until it was too late. And I don't want you to think I regret taking care of you, because I don't. I'd do it again and again."

"Wait, Lottie, stop," Amelia sat up in her seat, more attentive than before, "what do you mean 'you didn't see what was right in front of you until it was too late'?"

Charlotte only smiled with a hint of sadness attached, "do you remember coming home from piano and you asked what happened to my hand when you saw it was bruised? My knuckles?"

"Yes..."

"And I told you I accidentally hit my hand on the railing coming down the stairs too fast?"

"Yes. What does that have to do with," Amelia trailed off in confusion, until her eyes widened in realization, "oh, Lottie, no. No..."

Charlotte only nodded, eyes gazing at the very hand that once had the very bruise they were discussing, "he grew so angry with my playing, he threw the lid prop down and let it slam on my hand. Luckily only one hand was playing at the time."

   As her sister started to explain, Amelia started to put pieces together herself, "so, the one night at the ball, you didn't put on all that blush because the lights were flushing you out, did you?"

   "Oh, God, no," Charlotte chuckled as if reminiscing of a fond memory, "I was covering a bruise he left me the night before. He told me I embarrassed him in front of the ton, like I always seemed to do, no matter how hard I tried to appease him."

   The youngest Wentworth inhaled sharply at her next discovery that needed uncovering, "Lottie, one thing I noticed during our stay with William was how you never really... seemed to eat. Or at least, I rarely saw you eat. And you grew so thin... Was that his doing, too?"

   Charlotte reached over to grab her sister's hand in comfort for the both of them, "one thing you must know, Lia, is men like William use their power in many different forms. When he saw that causing me physical pain wasn't enough to keep me down, he used words. Hurtful, damaging words. Words that made me never made me want to look at myself, let alone take care of myself. So I did the only thing I knew what to do, take care of you. And hiding this from you was my idea of doing just that. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping you free from this burden. You deserve every good thing in this world, Amelia. And you must know, it has weighed on me every day, keeping this from you."

Amelia squeezed her sister's hand with her own teary eyed smile, "I am not a little girl anymore, Lottie. I am a grown woman now, and I can handle anything that comes my way. And I can say for sure that you, too, deserve every good thing in this world. Including a man who loves you and is devoted to you, mind, body and soul."

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her sister's ear, Charlotte let her eyes grow misty, "when did you become so wise?"

"I had a pretty great sister to look up to."

As the two Wentworth's embrace underneath the moonlight, Charlotte could not help but repeat her sister's words over and over in the back of her mind.

Including a man who loves you and is devoted to you, mind, body and soul.

❦

   Lady Corning's bookstore was a sight for sore eyes. At least, the back of it was. It felt like forever ago when she bumped into the top-hat wearing stranger on the street where they had a brief conversation about Jane Austen, ending in her knowing his name, and him not having an inkling on who she was. If only they knew what was to come after so soon after their encounter.

   The sun was just starting to rise over London, a beautiful sight. Long after Amelia went to bed after their talk, Charlotte could not find the same peaceful night's rest. Her mind was racing on a continuous loop, though she knew instantly what she had to do. It was what she always did for her siblings—put her own selfish desires aside for their happiness. That was all that mattered to her.

   Charlotte already had the chance to live happily ever after with the man she met during her season. It was Amelia's turn with the viscount. And she was going to make sure it went that way no matter what.

Heavy clomps on the ground were heard getting closer to where she stood, making her aware he was growing nearer by the second. She gave it a few more moments before she turned around just in time to watch him dismount his horse, clad in his riding gear, cloak and top hat he wore the same day they first met.

The man bowed his head in a respectful first greeting, "Miss Wentworth."

"Lord Bridgerton," the young woman did the same before venturing into safe conversation territory, "was the journey home all right for you and your mother?"

"Yes, it was fine, thank you," the viscount paused, his gaze softening once he focused on her entirely, "I couldn't sleep."

"Nor could I," Charlotte nearly whispered, walking a bit closer to him, leaves crunching beneath her feet, "have you decided what you will do?"

Lord Bridgerton sighed to himself, tilting his head to nature's plain to gather his thoughts, "long have I wrestled with it, but I see no other option. I will talk with Miss Amelia today... and see my way to ending things. It is the only way to ensure that the two of us can be rid of this impossible situation. Once the engagement is over, our paths need never cross again. It will be as if we had never met."

"You cannot. You cannot do that."

"Miss Wentworth—"

"You cannot break my sister's heart," Charlotte insisted as she made her way closer to him once again, "she is all things good and true. A kinder soul you will never find. She has loved me as well as any sister could, and I could not live with myself if I robbed her of her happiness and the future she deserves. Something I couldn't give myself."

Lord Bridgerton furrowed his brow in utter confusion, "I-I do not understand. You have been against this union from the start."

"I was wrong! I will not be the cause of you losing your honor any more than I can stand to see Amelia in pain. You once saw her as your perfect match. You will find your way to believing it again. Please. Please, Lord Bridgerton. Anthony," Charlotte tried desperately to fight the sting of her nose and the water rising in her tear ducts as she grabbed his gloved hands, pleading with him, "you must keep your word. You must marry my sister. You must marry her as soon as you can, because this feeling that plagues us so, it will pass. It will become tenable, it will become bearable, and soon enough, it will be as if we never felt it at all. Mere passion. It must because it has to."

As the first tear fell from her cheek, Lord Bridgerton's leather glove covered thumb caught it in time before it fell as he murmured, "what has he done to you?"

Charlotte could not give him an answer. She may never be able to.

   Slowly, the viscount released his hold of the young woman, sighing deeply, "very well. I shall see that the wedding shall take place as soon as possible."

   And with that, Anthony Bridgerton bowed his head in a polite goodbye before mounting his horse and leaving Charlotte Wentworth all alone behind the bookstore, where she was free to finally release the heavy sob that escaped her lips once his horse was out of view. She had to remind herself that the sadness she was feeling was temporary.

   She was doing the right thing.

❦

peace & love—comment & vote xoxo
edited: june 2024