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Selina just nodded.

“Oh, Selina,” Charlotte surged forward, taking the woman in her arms and squeezing tightly, “I am so sorry.”

The two of them stood there in the street, and Charlotte’s heart ached. As much as Selina was a terrible flirt, to the point that it frequently irritated her, she wasn’t deserving of such treatment. For her numerous faults—vanity, shallow thinking, undoubtedly promiscuous behavior—Selina was a friend who had been there for kind words when they all needed it.

If only Ethel were here. She is so much closer to Selina. It would be such a benefit to her to have her closest friend in town.

“Well, then.” Selina pulled back, wiping a gloved finger beneath her eyes as she pulled herself together, the picture of sorrow in her exquisite dress. “As the French say, c’est la vie. My life will go on, and I am certain I will find a suitor. There are a number of eligible men looking to marry, and my exchange for it will be well worth taking my hand. I am still young as well. Bearing a child shall be certainly possible as it was my poor Duke who had gotten on in years and lost his potency.”

Selina nodded as if that was that. There was no more use discussing the matter because it would all be settled. Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion that she was putting on a brave face, but she still admired Selina a bit for doing so.

Still, her friend looked around them again, and her brow furrowed deeply. “Charlotte, whatwereyou doing here? You have not answered.”

Fear interwove itself through the vertebra of her spine. What on earth was she supposed to tell the woman. Selina had been rather honest with her, but it was a different matter to trust the Dowager with this secret. She had not even told Amelia, and Selina and herself had never been that close.

The silence persisted, and then Selina put her hand on Charlotte’s, offering a nod.

“It is all right. When you are ready, I will be here.”

Charlotte’s chest ached, the expression of quiet understanding on Selina’s face pulling at her heartstrings to create a discordant melody that she could feel itching across her nerves. Charlotte just didn’t know what to say. The situation was far from simple, and Selina, while her friend, had a nose for gossip.

“Well, thank you for that. Do get home safely, Selina. And I am quite sure you’ll be snatched up by a new husband in no time.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Charlotte. We shall talk soon.”

Charlotte felt weighed down, pulled to the bottom of an invisible ocean. “Indeed, Selina. Soon.”

Carefully slipping inside, Charlotte stepped into her home without speaking. The butler was quick to take her jacket fromher and the parasol she’d brought with to keep her face out of the sun. Diedre was there to take her request for a repast or cup of tea, but Charlotte declined both, saying only a handful of words to her.

She’d progressed directly up the stairs, seeking out her room to be alone with her thoughts. But no sooner was she settled on her bed, staring at the closed door in front of her, was there a knock on it.

“Charlotte?” Frederick’s voice echoed through the wood separating them. “Are you quite well? You were so quiet at your arrival? Is something amiss?”

For several moments, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Selina had been so patient with her. There had been every motive for her to be upset with Charlotte, furious that she wouldn’t divulge why she was there when Selina had been honest from the get-go.

“Charlotte?”

She cleared her throat, which was too sticky and too dry at once.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Charlotte looked up at her husband, whose brow was creased with concern, down low over his eyes. He was genuinely worried about her, and the notion struck her. Just a short time ago, Charlotte had been unable to say whethershe loved him or not. While her decision was still not made, it was clear to her in the expression he wore that Frederick cared for her.

It struck her, and the weight settled on her shoulders pressed down all the harder.

“You did not seem like yourself. Are you well?”

Charlotte chuckled, this sarcastic thing that she felt a twinge of guilt for. Shaking her head, she frowned for a moment before looking back up at Frederick.

“I am not sick. You don’t have to be worried over me.”

Frederick walked over, taking a seat on the bed next to her. It dipped down with his weight, forcing her to lean in his direction. Charlotte noticed the urge to lean further, to give herself over to Frederick’s gravity and allow herself to rest against him. She sought comfort, and only a bit surprisingly, she wanted it to come from her husband.

“Health is not the only matter of concern that might affect you.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Your mind and spirit are just as important. And it is clear that something troubles you.”

She dropped her stare to the floor again, gathering up the fabric of her dress by her knees and winding it through her fingers. Frederick didn’t retreat or pull away, taking her chin and guiding Charlotte’s eyes back toward him.

“I am here, dearest. Tell me what bothers you so.”