Charles leaned against the stones of the hearth and sighed as he swung his gaze back to Uncle Sebastian. He'd listened to his uncle drone on and on. Prattle and nonsense. Could the man never be quiet? Nearly every day for the last two months, he'd had to listen to the necessity of attending Lord and Lady Kringle's Christmas Eve Ball at Holly Hall.
He had no desire to attend. Every ball and party was the same, which was why he usually avoided them. Loud, overbearing mothers who wanted a duke in the family flung their daughters at him. If he'd not met someone who took his interest by now, would he ever?
The boredom threatening to overtake him at such functions was nearly unbearable. He would stand on the sidelines, watching men fall over each other for a turn around the room with whoever the current beauty of the season happened to be. Attempting to hide his sigh with a pleasant expression when he would rather be anywhere else wasn't easy. Why did his uncle feel the need to keep pestering him about going?
Scratch. Scratch.
What was that noise? He frowned, trying to concentrate on Sebastian's words. Charles knew every person in their tight-knit community, and there was no woman of appropriate age and standing who could make him happy. The women discussed the same subjects over and over while they simpered and giggled, waving their fans in front of their faces as if they had the vapors. Thoughts of spending time with any of them set his stomach to roil. Was there not a woman out there with a mind of her own with whom he could hold an intelligent conversation? Yes, of course, he could always marry someone for whom he had no feelings, which was the fate of many of his friends, but that wasn't what he wanted.
Charles drew his brows together when he heard a raking sound against the wood on the door. Pivoting away from his uncle and the boring conversation, he took a step toward the closet. "Kitty , stop it."
Sebastian cleared his throat, snapping Charles' mind and attention back to the conversation. "Charles, are you even listening? You need to choose a bride. Soon." The older man tugged his coat down over his bulging belly. Gold buttons would surely shoot across the room any moment. Maybe Charles should take cover.
Charles sighed. "Uncle, I haven't met anyone who interests me."
"What has that got to do with anything?"
He glanced toward the floor. Knowing what his uncle thought of his ideas and wishes, he didn't want to meet his gaze. "I feel there must be someone out there. Someone meant for me."
His uncle snorted. "I don't know where you get your ideas, nephew. Maybe from all those books you read." He tilted his head and rubbed his chin. "What was that old, dusty one I saw you with last night? 'Gilbert's Adventure'?"
Charles watched his uncle through slanted eyes. "Gulliver's Travels."
Sebastian flicked his hand through the air. "Yes, yes. That's the one. Nonsense. A waste of your time."
Charles didn't want to be disrespectful to his elder, but wished at times his uncle would at least not ridicule his interest in reading about people and worlds unlike their own. Had the man no imagination? Or had he not ever longed to see something other than this drafty old house?
Sebastian waddled across the floor to the sideboard where the wine was kept. A crystal decanter reflected sun from the window across the room. "I wasn't in love with your aunt when we courted, and she wasn't in love with me, but we were married for thirty years before she died. You're getting older. And need to choose a bride. The Christmas Eve Ball is the perfect opportunity." After the older man drank down the wine in a single slurp, he set his goblet on the sideboard with a thunk.
Charles opened his mouth to protest, but closed it. His uncle was already halfway out of the room. For a large man, he scuttled quickly. No use anyway, as his uncle was set in his ways and mind. There was no changing him.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Charles glanced down and frowned. The cat was furiously pawing the closet door. What's that cat doing? He walked toward the closet and tried to pick the feline up. But the cat was having none of it. Twisting and kicking, she pulled loose from Charles' grasp, sliding down his pant leg to resume her activity.
Charles narrowed his eyes. "What's so interesting in there, Kitty? Moths?" Kitty's nose stayed buried in the tiny opening between the door and the frame, her paws swiping faster and faster until Charles feared the animal would expire from the effort. Charles knelt on the floorboards and leaned closer to the wooden door. Was that a whimper? He widened his eyes. Surely there wasn't a creature trapped in his closet. Was that why Kitty was so frantic?
Charles stood and nudged the feline toward the doorway with the toe of his boot and then herded the animal into the other room. He retraced his steps and grasped the closet handle. Edging the door open with a creak, he peered into the darkness.
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