Page 11 of Once Upon a Gilded Christmas (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #4)
A single lantern illuminated the inside of the carriage, for the December darkness had fallen on them all.
Lord Charles and his sister Lady Calpurnia sat side by side.
Lady Calpurnia herself had been married once, or so it had been whispered.
It was said she'd been won over by a lesser son who had purchased a grand commission in the army.
Lady Calpurnia had followed him to the Peninsula, where she had been widowed all too soon by Boney's troops.
She had returned home and never another word had been spoken of her brief time as a matron.
She even resumed her maidenly title, though she dressed as a matron.
What more could have been said? It wasn't that Lady Calpurnia was bitter as a person, but rather the shadow of grief followed her against her will. Honora didn't feel it her place to get to know her future sister-in-law that intimately.
Lady Calpurnia did not move from her seat, so Honora had to sit facing backwards. “Good evening,” she chirped, hoping to dispel the gloom of the carriage. She held out her hand.
Lady Calpurnia sniffed. Lord Charles, like the tiger, could only stare until his sister elbowed him.
He shook himself awake and reached for her hand. “Uh, evening.” A smile crossed his face. The charms were working. They worked so well he continued to stare, that dumb smile on his face, much to his sister’s annoyance.
Took him awhile to release her hand.
The carriage jolted as the coachman called to the horses. They were off.
Lady Calpurnia attempted conversation. “Glad you could join us.” Didn’t sound like it, though. “Tell me, Lady Honora. Have you ever attended the Theatre Royale in Covent Garden?”
Honora lit up. “Oh, we’re attending the opera? I adore opera. So dramatic. It’s like a novel with music.” And on she went about how marvellous it was, and she hoped they had good seats, for she truly wished to watch the whole thing.
It was like her mouth had forgotten the rest of Honora and ran away before consulting her brain. Even as she watched Lady Calpurnia give her brother a suffering look, she couldn’t stop.
Lord Charles didn’t care, it seemed. All he could do was listen to her, rapt.
He moved across the carriage to sit next to her. Lifting her hand, he pressed it to his lips. “I love to hear your dulcet voice,” he murmured as he leaned in.
“Charles!” came Lady Calpurnia’s scandalised voice. “What are you doing?”
He planted several kisses along Honora’s neck, trailing them lower and lower.
“You’re making a cake of yourself!” Lady Calpurnia declared, before pulling her brother off his betrothed. “What would the neighbours think?”
Not that they were present. Wasn’t much of any audience other than Lady Calpurnia. But it was enough to mollify Honora. "I am sorry. It is my fault."
Charles looked at her with a fawning gaze. "Oh, nothing could be your fault."
"Really, Charles!" Lady Calpurnia declared. "Stop making a cake of yourself."
Only one thing left to do. Honora stood up, bracing herself against the roof of the carriage, and lifted her skirts.
"What are you doing?" Lady Calpurnia's voice rose several octaves. Lord Charles' eyebrows also raised up, a smile lighting his face. He reached out to her but his sister knocked his hand away.
"Sit down, please, Lady Honora," Calpurnia begged.
Honora ignored Lady Calpurnia. She reached up, lifted her panniers out of the way to get to the laces of her pocket.
Once these released, her pocket fell to the floor with a heavy thunk .
Honora lifted it and placed it on the far corner of the seat.
To Lady Calpurnia's relief and Lord Charles' dismay, she dropped her skirts to a more modest level.
Honora removed her earrings and her necklace, placing them in the pocket. She removed her rings one by one, until she got to the last.
The acrostic ring. She’d forgotten it was on her hand.
Really, it hadn’t left her finger since her mother had placed it there.
“Might as well get used to it,” she had advised.
“You’ll probably be wearing it for the rest of your life.
” It had been charmed to convince Lord Charles he'd made a good choice.
Now, would it work on Calpurnia? Best to leave it on.
Once divested of all her charms, Honora settled down. "I am sorry. I did not realise—" She shook her head. "I do not need all these charms, do I?" She reached across to Calpurnia, her acrostic ring the only jewel she wore, and laid her hand on Calpurnia's arm.
Lady Calpurnia settled, somewhat mollified. "In my day, one would not have worn so much magic."
Lord Charles blinked. "Are you all right?"
Honora sighed. "I suppose so. Are you all right?"
He blinked at her, baffled. She reached over with her other hand, patting him on the arm. "I believe you mentioned we were going to the opera? Which one?"
Lord Charles cleared his throat, but offered no answer.
It was Lady Calpurnia who answered. "Artaxerxes, I believe."
Lord Charles turned away, to look out the window. It was dark out, and not much to be seen.
Honora slumped down, dejected.
Lady Calpurnia took pity on her. She patted Honora's knee. "You're trying too hard, my dear." She leaned back. "You're pretty enough. You've done your part. Next time, leave your charms at home. You no longer need them."
For some reason, that stung.
Who thought that being pretty was more important than being personable?