Free Heir to Rowanlea by Sally James

Harry looking after her with a frown in his eyes that caused Charlotte to boil inwardly.
    “Mr Penharrow has no title,” she said to the air. “Is he very wealthy, Mama?”
    Lady Weare suppressed a smile and glanced at Harry.
    “I believe he is exceedingly rich, and there is only one elderly uncle between him and an Irish barony,” she said smoothly. “From what I hear, the uncle hates him, and has recently married a girl young enough to be his granddaughter!”
    Charlotte giggled, but Harry pursed his lips, and abruptly asked her to dance. Regretfully she refused, saying she was promised to Wilfred Scott, one of his friends, who at that moment approached to claim her, breathlessly apologizing as he had been delayed by having to fetch a glass of orgeat for his mother.
    “The crush, it’s frightful,” he complained, “and not nearly enough waiters on duty. That’s what comes of trying to do things on the cheap. M’father always says it don’t pay, and it should be the best champagne, and no scrimping!”
    Charlotte looked about her at the lavishly furnished ballroom, hung with pink silk, and thought there could have been little scrimping on anything else connected with the ball, whatever the number of waiters.
    Harry had made his way across the room towards Amanda Gregory, but Charlotte caught a glimpse of Jack leading her into the set, and Harry stood propping up the wall, one shoulder hunched, as he gloomily watched the dancers. Elizabeth smiled at him sympathetically, and he turned and disappeared into the card room, emerging as the dance ended and advancing, determined, Charlotte suspected, on taking Elizabeth into supper.
    She was herself promised to Richard, and as he appeared and they stood chatting, she was disturbed to see Jack adroitly steering Elizabeth past Harry in the lee of a tightly packed, noisy group. Surely Jack was not interested in Elizabeth? He’d often stated he did not intend to become leg-shackled until he was at least thirty years old. Or was it inevitable she drew all the young men to her? Then she wondered if he were deliberately trying to make Harry jealous. There was no need of that, she ought to tell him. Harry was jealous enough.
    * * * *
    Elizabeth was in such great demand Harry obtained only one dance with her, and was in consequence still gloomy when Charlotte accompanied him riding in the Park on the following afternoon. His gloom increased when they saw Jack driving Elizabeth in his curricle, and he began muttering about false friends. In an attempt to placate Harry she told him what Richard had said about Lord Fenton, and the probability he would make a match of it with his mother’s goddaughter.
    “And Lord Pauling seems to be in some difficulty, if he is selling his horses and going away,” she added consolingly.
    “Richard knows a great deal too much!” he snapped. “I noticed he danced twice with you and took you down to supper last night. Is he growing particular in his attentions?”
    Charlotte stared in surprise.
    “He’s one of your best friends,” she exclaimed. “I’ve known him for years. He is just being friendly, as he always has been, and I think it ill done of you to be spiteful. How many times I dance with him or anyone else is my business, not yours. You are merely piqued because you danced only once with Elizabeth and jealous Jack took her down to supper!”
    “And what’s all this Jack tells me about taking you with him in our race? It’s not done, and no respectable female would agree to it.”
    “Has Elizabeth refused to ride with you, then?”
    “That, Miss, is none of your business.”
    They continued the ride in a silence which remained unbroken until they had almost reached home. Charlotte was concerned, both to discover whether Harry would ask anyone else to drive with him, and if so who, or whether he would convince Jack to abandon her. As they entered the Square they saw outside Norville House a huge traveling carriage which was