chapter sixteen: l'amour de ma vie
( the love of my life )

❦

   Marry me.

   Marry me.

   Marry me.

   Charlotte Wentworth remembered the day she was proposed to by William Cuttingham like it was yesterday. They were out on their daily promenade scheduled promptly by his parents, with her siblings in front of them and his parents behind them. Furthermore, the entirety of the French ton watched them as they walked through the streets of Paris.

It was no secret they were the couple to keep their eyes on and their ears keen to updates during the season. William was the most eligible bachelor and Charlotte was the daughter of the late Nicolas Wentworth, who had close ties to powerful ambassadors before his untimely passing. This match was astronomically important to the French, more importantly, for their social lives and afternoon tea time.

William took hold of her hand one day and brought her over to their favorite resting spot, under the shade of a giant willow tree overlooking a pond where geese would go to hydrate themselves. It was a peaceful spot for Charlotte. A place she would sneak away to without William sometimes, even unchaperoned completely.

   The Wentworth remembered how the man she once saw herself loving took hold of both of her hands and told her how much he adored her, how much he treasured her presence. How she was the kindest soul he had ever come across.

   She remembered how she gasped as she watched him get down on one knee and pull out one of the biggest rings she had ever laid eyes on. She remembered him asking the question. She remembered her only being able to nod because words could not escape her lips due to how surprised she was. She remembered it all.

Charlotte felt as though she was walking on water that day. The happiest she ever was. Like her life was complete and nothing could take away her happiness. Blinded by such emotions and expectations of fairy tales whisking through her head, nothing could have prepared her for what was waiting for her after she said I do.

Which was why the moment those two little words, spoken so gently, so quietly from Anthony Bridgerton's lips, Charlotte froze. She had no idea what to do or say. She did not say yes. She did not say no. She did not say anything at all.

And so the viscount took his leave.

Perhaps it was out of humiliation for being rejected or embarrassment for speaking out of turn and so recklessly. Perhaps it was simply because he regretted ever proposing the idea and he wanted to leave before she had the courage to answer him. Nevertheless, he left.

Charlotte was then left to her own thoughts once more.

Some time had passed after the viscount's visit before the Doctor came in to survey her injuries and her recovery thus far since her attack. Charlotte was told the extent of her injuries were severe and not to be taken lightly, and the scar on her stomach was indeed permanent but will heal overtime. When she asked if her injury had any effect on whether or not she could carry children, the Doctor was unsure, but cautiously optimistic and offered his services in the upcoming months for follow up exams.

   After further evaluation, she was cleared for light activity. Walking, sitting on her own but carefully, and dancing at her own discretion. Charlotte lifted her brow at that specific clearance, but she chalked it up to be due to it still being in season. The best thing for her to do to get better, the Doctor advised her, was rest. So that was what she did as soon as he left her be.

   The sun was setting the next time Charlotte opened her eyes. A slight orange cast washed over the room she had stayed in the past week. The events before her rest still weighed heavy on her mind, and she needed to get how she felt off her chest.

For the first time in over a week, Charlotte swung her legs over the side of the bed, and stood, using the bedpost as support. She sighed, relieved at how easy it was for her to actually move around after a week of not leaving the solace of her bed.

Charlotte found her siblings in the drawing room. She smiled gently at the sight of Amelia and Daniel reading their book and newspaper, respectively. Quietly, she let herself in and shut the door behind her, capturing their attention.

"Charlotte," Daniel dropped his paper onto his lap, "you should not be up on your own."

"The Doctor cleared me, brother. There is no need to fret. I am feeling much improved. The most rested I have felt in years, after a week in bed, in fact," Charlotte waved off his concern, taking a seat next to him and across her little sister, who watched her closely.

Amelia closed her book, "well, since you are feeling better, does that mean you are coming to the Featherington's ball with us tonight?"

   "I am unsure whether I would like to attend tonight," Charlotte answered her sister neutrally, without giving away her true feelings, "being around all those people who know of what happened—"

   "The ton think they know but they do not," Daniel interjected pointedly, raising a knowing brow, "Her Majesty made it perfectly clear in her letter that the ton believes you sustained injuries from a riding accident. Even her letter was made different in case anyone else got their hands on it."

   Knowing her brother had a point, Charlotte stayed quiet. She had no argument to rebuttal. Truth be told, she had no reasoning not to go to the ball tonight other than avoiding the one person she wished to see more than anyone. She was simply a coward, too afraid to see him face to face and own up to her actions that made them drift apart once again. Charlotte was not sure she could live with herself if she saw his face again—so hurt, so discouraged by her lack of response, by her silence.

"The flowers are beautiful, sister," Amelia cut through the silence in the room with her lighthearted comment.

Charlotte snapped her head up in sudden interest, "you saw them?"

"Whilst you were sleeping," the youngest Wentworth nodded casually, "I put them in water and placed them by your bedside in our room. Who are they from?"

   Charlotte only stared at her sister, knowing she did not need to answer her, for everyone in the room knew who gave her the flowers. Everyone knew who came to visit her mere hours after news broke of her waking up. The young woman felt her chin start to quiver as she tried to hold back her emotions. The woman dropped her head in her palm to hide her face in shame and embarrassment from her siblings, alarming them at the sudden shift.

Amelia left her seat across from her sister to sit next to her, wrapping her arm around her shoulders, "oh, Lottie, what happened?"

"He asked me to marry him," Charlotte raised her head to reveal her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, "the viscount."

   "Charlotte, that's wonderful!"

   "No, it is not," she countered her brother firmly, "what if he only asked me out of mere obligation, some misguided notion out of duty after the two of us... What if I say yes and the second we marry I am trapped in a marriage I cannot get out of again? Stuck with a man who only sees me as something he can parade on his hip whenever he feels the need to. What if he sees me just as disposable as William did? I cannot go through that again. I will not allow it."

   "And so you will not," Amelia agreed wholeheartedly, cupping her sister's cheek, wiping away her tears simultaneously, "but, Lottie, you must see that the viscount is much different from William. He is selfless and always puts his family's needs before his own. He quite possibly could be the most respectable man we have ever met. And he adores you. Anyone can see it. The whole reason we had to separate you two anytime we were in a public place was because you two could not keep away from each other!"

Charlotte could not help but chuckle at her sister's dramatics, the last of her tears drying on the back of her hand before seeking one more piece of crucial advice, "how will I know if he truly loves me?"

   "You will feel it, sister," Amelia took hold of both of her hands, "and it will not be just in your heart, it will be everywhere. In your chest, your stomach, your head, your fingers, toes—everywhere. Let it fill your cup and let it overflow. You have been surrounded by darkness for so very long, Lottie. Let him be your light."

❦

Charlotte Wentworth entered the last ball of the season with cautioned optimism, and a sense of familiarity. When she first arrived in London, making her grand entrance during the first ball of the season months ago, arm in arm with her siblings, all eyes immediately drifted toward them. The ton wondered who they were and what the Wentworth's were hoping to gain from coming to London for a season.

Months later, walking arm in arm with her siblings into the Featherington estate, eyes drifted toward the siblings for much different reasons. A failed wedding, family scandal and a riding accident plagued their family, making them a walking gossip column for all to whisper about.

   Charlotte paid no mind to the eyes following her frame in particular, taking in the house she had never been in before. She knew for a fact she and her family received the invitation to the ball out of pure pity because of her accident, however, Lady Danbury reminded them it was a step in the right direction of getting back to normal with the ton. As if that was their biggest concern as of late.

The ballroom was indeed gorgeous, decorated with the freshest of flowers and finest of chandeliers above that glimmered from every angle. It was clear the Featherington's were reveling in their new found fortune and wanted everyone to know exactly where they stood in the means of high society.

Charlotte spent the first few dances on the sidelines with Daniel to avoid bringing any unwanted attention to herself, while Amelia socialized with the other ladies of the season. People were polite and asked her about the state of her well being and how her recovery was going, to which she politely replied with honesty, but lied about the circumstances of how she required those injuries. She overheard the Queen would be making an appearance and she made a mental note to thank her before the night ended.

A little while into the night, Charlotte found her sister alone at the refreshment table, finding the perfect excuse to leave her brother's side and leave him with the boring conversations men had with one another.

   She smiled gently at her sister as she poured her a cup of lemonade, "are you enjoying yourself?"

   "Very much so," Amelia took a sip before leaning closer to her sister, "you will not be able to avoid him all night, Lottie. And you should not attempt to."

   "Lia—"

   "Do not try to deny it. I know you have been evading his every attempt to talk to you all night."

   Damn her sister for knowing her so well. Maybe Charlotte's reasonings for sticking to her brother's side were other than wanting to take it easy and not draw attention to herself for one night. Truthfully, the woman found Lord Bridgerton's dashing figure right as she entered the room, and as soon as she saw him, any courage she had to face him disappeared, along with any shred of dignity she had left.

Charlotte sighed deeply, dropping her chin to her chest in utter shame, "I do not know if I am strong enough to do this, Lia."

"Yes, you are," Amelia did not hesitate to rebuttal, putting down her cup to grab her sister's hands, "you just need to let go of your past and be the sister I know that you are. Be funny and brave and feeling. Be unafraid to follow your heart after guarding it for far too long. You have spent so much of your life hiding in the shadows, shining your light on me. It is time for you to shine all on your own."

Her sister sent her one last smile, one last squeeze of her hand, before walking away, leaving Charlotte all on her own. Exhaling shakily, she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat before turning around, only to face the person she was just on her way to find.

"Lord Bridgerton," she greeted as casually as she could, though they both knew she had been successful in avoiding him up until that very moment.

   "Miss Wentworth. I was just on my way outside," the man motioned to the doors in front of them. He took a lengthy pause, almost as if he was hoping for her to say she wished to join him, but to no avail, "I suppose we should continue to keep our distance between us, in light of the..."

   Charlotte watched him sigh dejectedly when she did not respond right away. But in that moment, she vowed she would not make the same mistake again, "perhaps we should not. Perhaps the spectators might take pity on me. Here I am at a ball days after a terrible injury. Perhaps I needed someone to steady me. Make sure I was all right. Perhaps you were the first person I found."

Lord Bridgerton smirked at her story, putting up his fingers, "how many?"

"Three?"

He spun them quickly, revealing his pinky finger amongst the three fingers he was holding up for her, playfully tsk at her wrong answer, causing her to quietly laugh at his antics. That was another trait that set him apart from any other man she had ever encountered—she was not afraid to laugh with him.

   Exhaling softly, Charlotte found herself not being able to look away from his gentle gaze, "are you going to ask me to dance?"

   "Are you going to say yes?"

   Not giving him a verbal response, Charlotte offered her satin glove covered hand for him to take, to which he did without hesitation and allowed him to escort her to the dance floor. And though they were not the only pair dancing, every eye off the dance floor was watching them, and only them. The strains of the orchestra played a delicate waltz, its lifting melody weaving a spell of enchantment that seemed to slow down time itself.

The woman tried her best to keep her focus solely on the man in front of her, but the eyes of the ton burned a hole through every inch of her skin she worked so hard to patch. The viscount was starting to feel the exact same way. Soon enough, the other couples on the dance floor stopped dancing all together and moved to the sidelines, leaving the pair to face the judgmental and curious gazes of the ton head fast.

"Do you want to stop," Charlotte whispered as they glided across the floor, hands never parting.

The viscount continued to lead their dance seamlessly, "just keep looking at me," bringing her in closer despite all the eyes on them, "no one else matters."

   Every step, every turn was a whisper of secrets shared only between them, their movements a perfect synchrony of grace and communication. As Lord Bridgerton led Charlotte through the intricate patterns of the dance, she felt a thrilling sense of freedom, the constraints of her past dissolving with each graceful spin. The warmth of his touch, the steady presence of his hand at the small of her back, was both a comfort and a promise of something more. Around them, the whispers and curious glances of the ton faded into insignificance, for in that moment, there was only the music and the unspoken connection between them. The waltz, with its ebb and flow, mirrored the uncharted territory of their hearts—a dance of unfolding possibilities.

   As the final notes of the music faded softly around them, Charlotte and Anthony remained in their position. Hands tightly intertwined, faces so close one reach and the woman could easily press her lips against his. But then they remembered where they were. It was only a moment after they noticed couples surrounded them once more and some of the ton were seemingly forcing themselves to look away from them.

   "Everyone, outside," Lady Featherington appeared in the doorway, an excited gleam to her, "I have a surprise for you all."

   Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Wentworth stayed rooted in their spot while everyone else filed out of the room around them, not without taking one last glance at them like they were the final art piece at the gallery. Slowly, they separated, though never parted hands, not wanting to let go just yet.

The two were then acknowledged briefly by the Queen when she walked by, a pleased smile on her features. After accepting a nod of respect from Lord Bridgerton, she turned to Charlotte, who was watching her almost misty eyed. If the young woman was allowed to give Her Majesty a hug, she would have. The only response she could muster was a silent thank you and the gentlest of smiles, to which the Queen winked before making her way out of the ballroom.

   Charlotte watched Her Majesty go, her smile slowly fading, eyes glancing at the viscount beside her, who was already watching her every move. How she wished she could touch him the way she wanted to, talk to him the way she wanted to. And looking at him now, with how he was looking at her, the way Amelia told her how a man should look at a woman.

As she gave him one last glance before leaving the ballroom, she made her decision. Charlotte knew what to do.

❦

Charlotte Wentworth found herself in the Featherington gardens after a bit of aimless wandering. She did not mind the alone time. Truthfully, she valued it in times of needing to gather her thoughts and feelings. Finding the right words to say. Figuring out what exactly she was feeling.

   In the span of her life, Charlotte had learned a lot of life lessons. Some to do with practical skills like threading or riding horseback. Others had to do with societal expectations such as knowing the best time to stop dancing to not look out of breath to suitors or to not refuse anything a suitor so valiantly gives you. However, thinking back, Charlotte could not remember learning any true lessons about love.

   Her parents had always been a prime example of what love was. They were a love match, after all. They were supportive of each other, caring, and were never afraid to show affection no matter where they were or who they were around.

   Charlotte expected the same from her marriage.

   She should have asked questions when she had the chance. What a marriage was supposed to be like. How a man was supposed to love a woman. How a woman was supposed to love a man. What love was supposed to even feel like. How you are even to know when you are in love. If it is okay to feel everything Charlotte felt all at once all of the time.

   Looking up at the stars shining so brightly in the sky, Charlotte knew her parents were watching her from above. She just wished she could talk to them, have them tell her what to do. Tell her whatever she wished to do, they were there for her.

Bushels ruffling from nearby caught her attention abruptly, causing her to face the commotion. Charlotte inhaled sharply at the sight of the viscount, "I have a question for you."

Lord Bridgerton raised a brow at the sudden proclamation, "and that is...?"

"Why did you not visit me after my attack," the Wentworth asked, nerves shot as a beat of silence wrapped around them, "I know you received updates upon request and you were the one who saved me but... why did you not want to see me?"

Heart pounding in his chest, the viscount answered truthfully, "I was fearful of losing you. That is why I could not visit you after William attacked you. I could not bring myself to," he trailed once his voice started to crack with emotion, the mere thought of such a tragedy bringing him nearly to his knees. Regaining his strength, he stepped closer to her, "I love you. I have loved you from the moment we bumped into each other in front of that bookstore. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together, and every time we've been apart. You do not have to accept it or embrace it or even allow it. Knowing you, you probably will not. But you must know it, in your heart. You must feel it because I do. I love you."

"I do not know what to say."

"You do not have to say anything."

"I do not think there is anything else to say... other than I love you, too," Charlotte's confession fades into a whisper, a single tear falling onto her cheek.

And she did. Completely, utterly and eternally did she love Anthony Bridgerton. She felt it just as much as he did, as he said. He felt it in his heart, in his head, in his stomach, in his fingers and toes. And so did she. Charlotte did not need to question if her life with Anthony would be different compared to her life with William. She did not need to question anything anymore. She knew in her heart who she belonged with. And it was with the man in front of her, looking at her as though she was his only reason for living.

"I want a life that suits us both," Anthony grabbed both of her hands in his in a plea for her to listen to every word spoke to her, "I know I am imperfect, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine my life without you, and that is why I wish to marry you."

Charlotte released the hold he had on her hands to bring them to his cheeks, her lips in a beaming smile, "you do know there will never be a day where you do not vex me!"

The viscount only smiled down at her and the smile that could cure any sadness, "is that a promise, Charlotte Anne Wentworth?"

   Before she could answer, popping fireworks boomed through the air, lighting up the sky, causing both of them to gasp in their embrace. To Charlotte, it felt like a sign. A sign that she so desperately needed. Her parents were indeed watching from above and with her every step of the way. This was their way of telling her to follow her heart, to say exactly what she wanted to say.

   "Yes," the woman breathed a sigh of utter relief as she said the one word she had been dreaming of saying for what felt like a lifetime, "yes, it is a promise."

   Anthony Bridgerton smiled brightly down at the love of his life, a smile he never thought would ever grace his lips, "well, then. It seems the two of us are finally seeing eye-to-eye on something."

   Charlotte Wentworth caressed the cheek of l'amour de sa vie, the happiest she had ever been, "I suppose we are."

   Barely letting the words escape her lips, their lips met in perfect harmony, not being able to be apart any longer. Charlotte wrapped her arms around her beloved's neck as she felt herself being lifted off her feet and taken into Viscount Bridgerton's arms, feeling as though she could stay in them forever.

   And to think, it all started with meeting a Viscount she loathed.

❦

i love you all so much
peace & love—comment & vote xoxo
edited: june 2024