* * * *
“Well, you have certainly caused a fuss,” Una remarked that evening as she helped Charlotte ready for bed. “And not even home two days in full. You have surpassed your own record, I do believe.”
Charlotte winced as Una ran a brush through a tangled section of her hair, tugging against her scalp. “I do not want to talk about it, Una, please,” she said. “Mother is still livid with me. I will likely never live this down.”
Una met her gaze through the vanity mirror before her and smiled. “Why do you not tell me about the cause of it all, then?” she asked. “This young man, Kenley Fairfax, who so occupied your afternoon.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself. “You would like him, Una,” she said.
Una made a murmuring sound of piqued interest. “He is very handsome,” Charlotte said. “And intelligent, quick-witted, well-read, and well-spoken. He has this means about his face where he… it is like he does not even have to say anything. He just lifts a brow or cocks his head, or his mouth settles somewhat into a sort of crooked line, and you just realize what he is thinking—most plainly, you know it.”
Una nodded once, her soft smile still lifting her lips. Charlotte’s gaze had taken on a sudden, distant cast as she remembered; she looked wistful and ingenuous at the recall.
“He read my writings,” she said to Una. “Not just skimmed them and scoffed, Una, but read them. We discussed them. We discussed all sorts of things, really. He listened to me. I could see it in his face; he took my point of view, my thoughts, opinions—all of it into consideration. He did not agree with me all of the time, but when he did not, he simply told me his own ideas. He did not insult or demean mine. He just… spoke to me, as he would have a man.”
“It sounds like he made a very good impression on you,” Una said quietly, holding Charlotte’s sheaf of long hair against her palm and stroking the brush through it.
“He did,” Charlotte murmured, her eyes still fathoms away, the corners of her mouth drawing upward slightly. She blinked, looking at Una through the mirror, her smile growing shy. “He kissed me,” she said softly.
Una did not pause in her brushing. “Did he now?” she asked, raising her brow, sparing Charlotte’s reflection a glance. “And this was… ?”
“Marvelous,” Charlotte said, drawing her hand to her mouth and laughing as her cheeks flushed brightly.
Una laughed with her. “I have always rather enjoyed the experience myself.” She smiled at Charlotte, the brush falling briefly still. “Your first kiss,” she said. “But not, I do not doubt, your last. I have never known anyone to stop with just the one.”