Page 4 of A Baron’s Most Inconvenient Marriage (Delightful Lords and Ladies)

Chapter 4

“A year’s absence has hardly changed anything at all,” Sebastian observed dryly as he stood with the Fairfax brothers, watching the intricate social choreography of Almack’s unfolding before them.

The familiar patterns of society that he had thought would have seemed foreign to him, seemed somehow even more familiar, almost like déjà vu.

James lifted an eyebrow, “And here I thought you would be prepared for managing a ballroom full of marriage-minded mamas.”

“Give him credit,” Colin interjected with a grin. “At least he remembers which fork to use for fish. Though I must say, Bash, you look about as comfortable as a fox in a hunting party.”

Sebastian allowed himself a small smile at the childhood nickname. The Fairfax brothers had been his anchor during the long moths of his father’s illness, their letters and occasional visits providing respite from the crushing weight of impending responsibility.

Now, standing amid the press of London society for the first time since inheriting the title, he felt the familiar weight settle around his shoulders once more.

“The mineral works, though worrisome, provide better company these days than that of polite society, your own company excluded, of course. At least stone and soil speak plainly.” Sebastian said dryly.

“How is the estate truly doing?” James pressed, noticing the slight frown and tense lines on Sebastian’s face.

“The mineral works need extensive repairs,” he confided, his voice pitched low enough that only his friends could hear. “The northern shaft collapsed last week. No casualties, thank God, but the cost of repair…” he trailed off, the numbers from his ledgers dancing behind his eyes like mocking specters.

William’s expression grew serious. “That bad, Bash?”

“Worse.” Sebastian traced the rim of his empty glass. “Father always said a baron’s first duty was to his people. But between the poor harvest and the repairs needed…” he stopped himself, aware that a ballroom was hardly the place for such discussions.

Colin clapped him on the shoulder. “I must say, Bash. You have perfected the art of looking simultaneously bored and tormented.”

Sebastian’s retort died on his lips as movement caught his eyes. A flash of blue silk and a cascade of brown hair, paired with a laugh that seemed to cut through the measured tones of society like sunlight through early morning mist.

He found himself staring at Charlotte, and for a moment, he couldn’t reconcile this elegant young woman with the memory of the Fairfax brothers’ impetuous little sister.

“Ah,” James remarked knowingly. “I see our sister’s transformation has not evaded your attention.” He nudged Colin with his shoulder. “You owe me five pounds, brother.”

Colin scoffed lightly as he reached into his pocket, “It wasn’t a matter of whether he would, or would not notice her, James. It was purely a question of how long it would take Bash to be so utterly… dumbfounded.”

“She is certainly…” Sebastian searched for a word that wouldn’t earn him a thrashing from the three protective brothers standing around him, “different.”

“A year might not have changed society much, but it certainly did our sister.” William observed, though there was something in his tone that made Sebastian glance sharply at his friend. Before he could decipher it, Charlotte approached them.

The memory of her as a child overlaid jarringly with the current reality—like trying to read two different books simultaneously.

Her curtsy was proper enough, but there was a vitality to her movements that seemed barely constrained by the parameters of social etiquette, like lightning that had been trapped in a glass bottle.

“Lord Blackthorn,” she greeted him. He noticed that even her voice had changed, taking on notes that made his tired mind stumble. “How wonderful it is to see you again.”

Sebastian executed a bow, buying himself time to compose a response that wouldn’t betray his unsettled thoughts. “Miss Fairfax, you seem… well.”

“I am, thank you, my lord. I trust you are also… well?”

Sebastian inclined his head, but said nothing, and for a moment, they stared at one another until Charlotte broke the silence.

“How… diplomatically phrased, my lord,” she replied, a hint of challenge in her tone. “Though perhaps you are simply too weary to construct a more elaborate compliment?”

The directness of her observation was one that he would usually have found refreshing, but now it grated against his frayed nerves. “Forgive me, Miss Fairfax, I am not myself. Estate management leaves little time for practicing social niceties.”

“Oh? I would have thought managing tenants required more finessing than traversing the intricacies of a ballroom.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with intellectual engagement. “Father says the true art of estate management lies in understanding people, rather than numbers.”

Sebastian felt his jaw tighten. Of course, she would choose this particular moment to display knowledge of the very things that were consuming his thoughts. “Your father’s wisdom is well noted, Miss Fairfax. Though, perhaps a ballroom is not the ideal venue for discussing… practical matters.”

A flash of hurt crossed her face before being masked by a polite smile, though her eyes had narrowed considerably.

“Heaven forbid we discuss anything of substance at a social gathering. Shall we perhaps stick to safer topics? The weather perhaps? Though I must warn you, Lord Blackthorn, I have rather strong opinions on that matter as well.”

Her attempt at humor, which he would usually have found charming, now felt like another demand on his depleted reserves.

The conversation felt like navigating a ship through treacherous waters without a map, each exchange requiring more energy than he could spare. “The weather would be…” he paused, searching for words that would not come, “that is to say…”

“You needn’t strain yourself, my lord.” Charlotte’s tone cooled slightly. “I can see you are quite fatigued. Though, I must say, if discussions of literature and weather prove too taxing, perhaps you might continue one of your many discussions with the young ladies who seem to have been practicing their accomplishments specifically for your return to society.”

“Miss Fairfax, I meant no—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Charlotte said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, “I believe I need some refreshment. The air in here has grown rather… stifling.”

She executed a perfect curtsy that somehow managed to convey both proper respect and gentle mockery. Sebastian watched her go with a mixture of relief and inexplicable disappointment, aware that he had handled the interaction poorly, but he was too exhausted to puzzle out how to salvage it.

“Well,” Colin remarked dryly, “that went about as smoothly as a cart with square wheels.”

“Did you hear that, James?” Colin’s voice carried barely concealed mirth. “Our Charlotte requires too much attention. Though I must say, Bash, I have never seen you quite so discomposed by a simple conversation before.”

“There is nothing simple about your sister,” Sebastian muttered, then immediately regretted his words at the sharp looks all three brothers gave him.

They watched as Charlotte made her way to the refreshment table, her movements carrying a subtle tension that hadn’t been there before. Sebastian felt a twinge of guilt, knowing his poor attitude had contributed to her discomfort.

“I don’t recall punch being quite that shade of amber,” Colin murmured, a note of concern threading through his voice. “Is that not the same bowl Lady Cavendish specifically requested for her more… spirited guests?”

“The rum punch?” Sebastian straightened. “Surely someone would have warned her?” Sebastian noted, though a knot of worry began to form in his chest. He remembered all too well his own first unwitting encounter with Lady Cavendish’s infamous punch.

But Charlotte had already lifted a glass to her lips, gulping down the amber liquid enthusiastically before reaching for another, and Sebastian had a sinking feeling that the evening might either get worse, or more interesting.

“Perhaps we should—” Colin began, but Sebastian held up a hand.

“Wait. Intervening now would only draw more unwanted attention toward your sister.” His years of friendship with the Fairfax family had taught him that Charlotte responded to direct interference about as well as a wild mare responded to an inexperienced rider. “Though, I must confess, I am far more concerned about that particular group she is approaching. We should perhaps move a bit closer.”

“Oh dear,” Colin said suddenly.

Sebastian’s gaze followed to where Lord Edmund Gillespie held court among his usual sycophants. The man had a reputation for wielding wit like a blade and he was known for taking particular delight in exposing social missteps.

Even from across the room, Sebastian could see the predatory gleam in his eye as Charlotte drifted closer to them.

“Ah, Lord Gillespie!” Charlotte’s voice carried just far enough to reach them. “I have the most amusing tale to share with you. Do you remember that strange gentleman who caused such a delightful scandal at Lady Hawthorne’s garden party last season? The one involving the unfortunate parakeet?”

The sudden silence that fell over the immediate vicinity was like a pressure drop before a storm. Sebastian felt every muscle in his body tense as he watched the blood drain from Charlotte’s face—she had clearly realized her mistake seconds too late.

“I believe,” Edmund said with lethal precision, “you are thinking of my cousin, Miss Fairfax. Though I was indeed present to witness that particular… entertainment.”

“I… that is…” Charlotte’s fingers twisted in her skirts; a childhood gesture Sebastian remembered from moments of distress.

“How fascinating,” Edmund continued, his voiced pitched to carry, “to observe the… shall we say, unique social graces that one develops in certain rural environments. I suppose allowances must be made, for those who are not quite up to London’s standards.”

The wave of titters that swept through the surrounding crowd made Sebastian’s jaw clench automatically. He took a step forward, but Colin’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Your presence now will only make things worse for her, Bash.”

The pair watched as Charlotte executed a slightly wobbly curtsy. “You have my deepest apologies, my lord. Please excuse me.” She turned away with as much dignity as she could muster, but Sebastian could see the trembling of her lower lip and the too-bright glimmer in her eyes.

She passed them without noticing, and Sebastian heard her whisper under her breath, “You are such an embarrassment, Charlotte!” The personal reprimand carried enough raw anguish to make his chest ache.

As they moved to follow her, Sebastian could already hear the whispers spreading through the ballroom like ripples through a still pond. Ladies turned away as Charlotte passed, fans fluttering in poorly concealed disdain.

Gentlemen who had earlier smiled at her vibrancy, now studied their glasses of port with sudden fascination.

“It is rather remarkable,” Sebastian said quietly to Colin, “how quickly the ton can turn a moment’s mishap into a season’s worth of scandal.”

“More remarkable still,” Colin replied, his voice low but laced with amusement, “is how much this seems to trouble you.”

Sebastian chose not to respond to the observation. Instead, he focused on Charlotte’s retreating figure, noting how her usual confident stride had diminished into something smaller, more uncertain.

The transformation sent an unexpected spike of anger through him—not at her, but at the society that would so eagerly clip the wings of anything that dared to fly too freely.

They found her on the balcony, partially hidden behind a marble column. The sight of her bent head and shaking shoulders stirred something protective in Sebastian’s chest, an emotion he was not quite ready to examine closely.

“Your mother,” he whispered to Colin, “is going to be spectacularly unhappy about is, isn’t she?”

Charlotte’s hands dropped from her face hearing his words, revealing cheeks flushed with a combination of mortification and rum punch. “Mama’s disappointment will be the least of it, I fear. It seems I have managed to prove every criticism of my ‘country manners’ correct in record time.”

The bitter self-recrimination in her voice struck Sebastian with unexpected force. This wasn’t the Charlotte he knew—the girl who had once declared that society’s rules were ‘merely suggestions for those lacking imagination.’

“Lord Gillespie’s reputation for cruelty is well-established,” Sebastian offered, maintaining a proper distance. “You were not his first and only target, Miss Fairfax.”

“But I made it so easy for him, did I not?” she turned to face the gardens below, her fingers gripping the stone balustrade. “One glass of punch and suddenly I am every bit the unrefined creature everyone thinks me to be.”

“Two glasses…” Colin murmured. “And I think we can blame it on the rum.” He said, with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Did I just ruin my reputation and irreparably damage my entire season in the span of ten minutes?” Charlotte asked desperately.

“If London society could be permanently damaged by one misplaced comment, half the ton would have been exiled years ago,” Sebastian commented, though the attempt at humor felt rusty on his tongue, like a skill long disused.

“Bash is right, Charlotte.” Colin said, his tone gentle.

“You don’t understand.” Charlotte said, “Mama was right. I am not… I just cannot seem to…” she gestured helplessly at herself, at the perfect arrangement of her gown, now slightly askew, and at the stray lock of hair that tumbled down her shoulder.

“I am not made for this… this world of perfect manners and measured responses. I try, but it is like trying to fit a wild rose into a hothouse garden.”

William and James joined them on the balcony, their expressions neutral. “The damage is repairable, ” James began, but Charlotte cut him off with a laugh that held no humor.

“Is it? I saw Lady Cavendish’s face, and the Crowton’s sneers.” She pressed her hands to her eyes again. “Oh, God, did I really have to mention the parakeet?”

Sebastian found himself fighting an inappropriate urge to smile. Even in distress, Charlotte’s ability to find humor amid disaster remained intact.

“If it helps, I believe the parakeet incident actually improved the bird’s temperament. It has been rumored considerably less prone to biting after that particular… incident.”

The surprised laugh she gave held a hint of her usual spirit, though it passed as quickly as it had appeared. “You are kind to make light of it, my lord, but we both know this isn’t something that can be laughed away.”

The defeat in her voice grated against everything Sebastian knew of the Fairfax’s spirited youngest child. Before he could think better of it, he moved closer to the balustrade, though still maintaining proper distance.

“Do you know what my father used to say of society’s judgments?” he asked gently, watching her profile in the soft light spilling from the ballroom. “That it is like a summer storm—violent, but quickly spent, if one has proper shelter.”

“And what shelter would that be?” Charlotte asked, turning to face him.

Sebastian took a moment, staring into the sapphire pools of her eyes, making sure that once he spoke, she would truly hear him. “Your genuine worth, Miss Fairfax. And I think it far exceeds any momentary lapse in judgment or manners.”

Something flickered in her eyes, surprise perhaps, or a deeper emotion he couldn’t quite name. but before she could respond, a commotion from the ballroom drew their attention.

“Charlotte?” Frances’s voice carried clear concern. “Charlotte, where are you? We are leaving.”

“And so, my penance begins,” Charlotte murmured, straightening her shoulders. She turned to Sebastian with a soft smile, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Thank you for your kind words, my lord. I fear it is more than I deserve.”

As she moved to leave, Sebastian caught William’s arm. “Your sister,” he said in a low voice, “will she recover from this?”

William studied him with an unreadable expression. “Charlotte is resilient, though I must say, Bash, I find your concern… interesting.”

“She is your sister,” Sebastian replied stiffly, “and Gillespie was out of line.”

“Indeed.” William’s tone suggested he was considering something. “You know, there might be a surefire way to—”

Sebastian noticed Charlotte once more, accompanied by her mother’s barely contained distress.

He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to follow her, to somehow protect her from the whispers already circulating through the ballroom like ink in water.

“To what?” he pressed.

“Let me think on it,” William sad contemplatively. “I will come to see you.”

As he watched the Fairfax family disappear into the London night, Sebastian realized with a jolt that for the first time since his father’s death, he was thinking about something other than estate ledgers and taxes and minerals and tenants. And the revelation was not entirely uncomfortable.