Page 53 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

“Yes, relatively. Father has trouble with gout, but it is not serious. They are gone to Bath to take the waters.”

“Ah yes. Well, it is good to see you.” He was about to bid her a good day and go retrieve his horse, but as he took a step away, she took a step forward.

“I heard Miss Charlotte Robbins is in town and that she has inherited a fortune.”

“Yes, I heard the same.”

“You were seen with her, walking in Hyde Park.” She gave him a smirk, as though she was in on some secret of his.

“I accompanied Miss Robbins and Mrs. Drake on a walk, that is correct.”

“I also heard you were giving a ball. I would love to be invited, but I am staying with Lady Wexford, so I understand if you do not want to ask her, and if you think it rude to send an invitation asking only me—”

“Yes, that would be rude. I’m glad you understand.”

Her face fell.

“Well, it is good to see you,” she said, quickly renewing her smile, “and I hope you won’t hold it against me that I am staying with your former fiancée. She and I have been good friends, and our fathers—”

“I had not known you were in such close acquaintance with Miss—with Lady Wexford.”

“Oh, well, I only just became acquainted with her when we were both invited to Lord and Lady Cloverdale’s country house in Derbyshire. She and I became fast friends, and I—”

“I hope you have a pleasant stay in London. Forgive me, but I have an errand, and I don’t wish to be late. Good day, Miss Rutledge.”

“Good day. I do hope we will see each other again.”

He tipped his hat to her as he walked away. Lady Wexford was still standing where Miss Rutledge had left her, looking quite petulant as she frowned, staring his way. She then flicked open the fan in her hand and started fanning herself.

Strange that he’d once thought he was in love with her.

He barely saw anything as he walked, remembering the ball where his Letitia—for they had been engaged for a month at the time—had flirted with the marquess. William had thought little of it, so sure was he that his fiancée was in love with him. She’d smiled and flicked her fan much in the same way she had just done, except she’d used it not to fan herself but to tap Lord Wexford’s arm. She’d said something, then they’d both laughed.

How stupid William had felt when she ran off with the marquess a week later.

He’d worried about marrying her, but only because she was so young and innocent, only sixteen. He’d seen himself as her protector, her provider. She’d been his sweet angelic dove. He’d written her such sentimental drivel, sending her a letter every day after they were engaged. In his mind, she was completely unlike his mother.

But it had only been in his mind. When someone wealthier and with a higher-ranking title, someone who would one day be a duke, had asked her to run away with him, she’d forgotten William completely.

And here he was, imagining that Charlotte Robbins was the same sort of innocent, good kind of woman. Was he fooling himself again? How well did he truly know her?

And now he’d done something that was even more irreversible than becoming engaged—he’d given a large portion of his fortune to Miss Robbins.

Samuel and Annabelle’s inheritances were safe in a trust, which would not be diminished by his giving away the fifty thousand pounds. But although he was hoping she’d fall in love with him, he now realized it would be much more painful to marry her and have her turn out to be just like his mother ... and Letitia.

But hadn’t he already seen sufficient evidence to know that Charlotte Robbins was not like them? She was the furthest thing from it. And he just wanted to see her happy, to give her the choices she’d never had before, to see her living and thriving the way she was meant to. And he still hoped, when given the choice, she would choose to marry him.

But even if she didn’t, he would have to be resigned to that. There was no turning back.

Millicent was a welcome sight, even if she did arrive talking and hardly took a breath the first two hours. She shared with me her favorite shops in London, then we stayed awake most of the night, laughing and telling each other our deepest secrets.

Millicent had her heart set on Lord Markeley. I thought him rather an unlikely match for her, but I did not say so. She was my only real friend in London, and I didn’t want her to hear that from me. Besides, who was I to say that the fifteen thousand pounds that her father was offering to whomever married her wasn’t enough for Lord Markeley, or that he wouldn’t fall in love with her? I did rather hope that someone else might distract her from Lord Markeley before she made the unhappy discovery that he was not in love with her.

I, of course, shared with her my feelings for Lord Brookhaven and the details of our walk to Hyde Park, as well as our two outings with Samuel and Annabelle. “But I am not so conceited as to think he would want to marry me,” I was quick to add. “He’s the Earl of Brookhaven. None of his friends will want him to marry a former governess. He’d be ashamed of me.”

“Do not think anything of the kind,” Millicent protested. “You have your own fortune now—a very large fortune—and surely that is more important than the fact that you were once a governess. And he has no parents to protest or force him to marry someone of higher status and with a family estate and old name. He can do as he pleases.”

“Perhaps, but I would feel terrible if I were the reason my husband is looked down upon by the rest of his peers.”