Chapter Ten
“Whatever it was you and those wicked widows of yours got up to last night, you can just keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear a thing about it.”
Charlotte turned from her dressing-table mirror to raise an eyebrow at Sarah. “My, you’re in a temper this morning, but I assure you, your snit is wasted on me. Even you couldn’t find anything to disapprove in my behavior last night.” Unless she happened to look in the jewel casket, that is, for there was nothing but an empty velvet tray where the amethyst choker had been.
Fortunately Sarah turned her attention to the gown Charlotte had worn the previous night instead. She snatched it up and cast a suspicious eye over it, searching for evidence of wrongdoing. When she found none, she gave it a violent shake, as if she could force secrets from its silk folds. “It’s not my place to contradict you, my lady, but you were up to something, sure as I’m standing here.”
Charlotte snorted. “Your place, indeed. You couldn’t find your place if you had a dozen lanterns and a pack of hunting dogs at your disposal.”
“Hunting dogs, my eye. That’s got naught to do with whatever wickedness you got up to last night. For a lady as was such a paragon of virtue, you’re awfully eager to change the subject. But like I said, I’ll not hear a word about it.”
“A word about what, you silly thing? I went to the theater last night, nothing more.” Nothing Sarah needed to know about, at least.
The maid jabbed her hands onto her hips. “Nothing more, eh? If that’s true, then why are those three fiendish females of yours waiting in the drawing room for you, and each of them looking like a cat that just swallowed a mouse?”
“My friends are here?” Charlotte jumped up from the dressing table. “For pity’s sake, Sarah, why didn’t you say so at once?”
“They’re here all right, and all three of them look ready to burst, especially that little French one. Must be something scandalous indeed to get those three up from their beds before nightfall. Don’t bother trying to confess to me, however, for I won’t hear it.”
“Oh hush, will you? There’s nothing to confess. Now stop your ceaseless prattle and help me dress.”
Sarah turned on her heel and disappeared into the dressing closet, but Charlotte could still hear her grumbling. “You may as well tell me, then. No point in hiding it from me, my lady. Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ve done worse.”
“Much worse,” Charlotte muttered under her breath.
At last Sarah emerged with a lavender gray day dress draped over her arm. “Well? Go on then, since you insist upon telling me, and don’t think to skimp on the details.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “For goodness’ sake. All right then, if you must know. Once the clock struck midnight we had carriage races in Hyde Park, then a stroll through the rookeries in the dark, and finally a reunion of the Hellfire club.”
There. Perhaps that would keep Sarah quiet.
Sarah covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my lady. You didn’t!”
Charlotte let out an irritated sigh. It would take an act of Parliament to keep Sarah quiet. “I did, and worse too. I promise to recount it all in salacious detail later if you’ll make me presentable within the next few minutes. My friends are waiting.”
And all three of them needed a good shake. God only knew how she’d undo the damage Julian had caused last night. He’d been at his handsome, appealing best at the theater. Charlotte had seen right through him, but her friends had been one charming smile away from falling under his spell. Even Annabel’s stalwart cynicism had wilted under Julian’s onslaught.
He’d been far less charming at the gaming hell when he’d refused her vowels and snatched her jewels instead. Dash it, she never should have warned Annabel away from the piquet table last night. It would be far easier to convince them of his treachery if one of them had witnessed it.
Sarah quickly fastened Charlotte’s gown and arranged her hair into a simple twist at the nape of her neck. “There. That’ll do well enough for those three jades.”
As soon as she was free of Sarah, Charlotte hastened to the drawing room. As her maid had pointed out, it wasn’t every day her friends rose before sunset.
It wasn’t any day, come to think on it.
The widows wanted details, and they wouldn’t rest until they got them. Charlotte intended to oblige them too, with a thorough dose of the ugly truth.
She paused outside the drawing room and drew in a deep, slow breath. If she wanted to make her friends see sense, she must remain calm. Cool-headed. There could be no shouting and no hysterics, and above all she must refrain from referring to Julian as a false, deceitful, manipulative, ruthless scoundrel.
Surely she could manage to do that for one afternoon.
“My dears,” she said as she threw open the doors and breezed into the drawing room. “I didn’t realize you were aware there was such a thing as daylight hours.”
Lissie blinked at the window. “I vaguely recall something about it from my childhood. It feels less wondrous now than it did then, somehow.”
Annabel lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “So do most things.”
“Such cynicism!” Aurelie frowned at Annabel. “It can’t be good for your complexion, ma petite.”
“Frowning isn’t good for it either, and anyway, who’s cynical? I said most things, not all things. Gossip, for instance.”
“Did you see the scandal sheets this morning, Charlotte?” Lissie settled herself on a yellow tufted divan with the air of one who intends to stay there for quite some time. “Captain West’s presence in your box last night didn’t go unnoticed, and now all of London is pining for a romance between the wicked widow and the war hero. I did warn you that story was irresistible, didn’t I?”
“Another day, another scandal sheet. I could write them myself by now.” Charlotte pulled the bell to summon a servant. “I suppose we’d better have tea.”
“Oui.” Aurelie sat down on the settee next to Lissie. “Tea, or something stronger.”
“Like smelling salts?” Annabel asked. “We may find ourselves overcome by Charlotte’s tales of the delicious Captain West.”
Charlotte glared at her. “You were certainly overcome by him last night. Honestly, Annabel, how can you be taken in by him? Underneath that charming smile he’s a false, deceitful, manipulative, ruthless scoundrel.”
Well. That hadn’t taken long.
“Oh, you mean to say he is un sauvage?” Aurelie gave a little wriggle of delight. “Even more delicious!”
Charlotte threw her hands into the air in disgust. “Well, I can only hope the next gentleman who fleeces my pockets is of a less edible turn of countenance. Then perhaps I can depend upon my dearest friends to do more than stand by and gape at him.”
Annabel glanced at Lissie and Aurelie, then back at Charlotte. “Do you mean to say he cheated at piquet? Because that would change things entirely. I can’t abide a cheat.”
Charlotte bit her lip. Oh, how dearly she’d love to claim he was a cheat and a liar, for he was both, but he hadn’t, blast him, cheated at piquet last night. “Not as such, no, but he—”
“He didn’t fleece you at all then, did he?” Lissie let out an irritated sigh. “Honestly, Charlotte, I can understand why you’re so wary of him, given your past association, but you refuse to even give the man a chance.”
I gave him a chance once. He broke my heart, and I haven’t another one to spare.
“Besides, what would you have had us do?” asked Annabel. “Tackle him to the floor right there beside the piquet table and beat him senseless with our reticules?”
“That would have done nicely, thank you.”
Lissie tapped a finger against her chin. “I suppose we could have done, but it would have attracted an awful lot of attention. Not quite the thing, to beat a gentleman about the head with one’s reticule during piquet, you know.”
Charlotte let out an irritated snort. “What nonsense. Since when do you three care about attracting attention, for any reason?” She knew her friends were right, of course—there was little they could have done that wouldn’t have made the situation worse, but was it too much to ask they not refer to Julian as delicious?
Even if it was true. Especially then.
“But it had nothing to do with the attention,” Aurelie said. “We didn’t try and stop him, ma chou, because one could see from the moment you sat down to piquet nothing could stop him. It was inutile, you see.”
“Quite useless,” Lissie agreed. “He was determined to have you to himself no matter what.”
“Determined to snatch my jewels, you mean.” Charlotte scowled at them. “And you’re all determined to make it sound as if he was motivated by some tender feeling, which is exactly what he wants you to believe. I can assure you, it was nothing of the sort.”
Lissie leaned forward in her seat, her expression eager. “What happened after he dashed into the night after you, determined to halt you in mid-flight?”
“Lissie! Stop that. He didn’t dash anywhere. He dragged me, with his huge bear-like paw clamped around my wrist, deposited me without ceremony in my carriage, and then dumped me on my doorstep like so much baggage. There was nothing delicious about it.”
Except there had been those moments, in the courtyard…
He’d stood so close to her, close enough only a mere breath separated them, so close she could have pressed her face into his chest and inhaled his faint, clean scent of leather and starch. His voice, when he’d said the word lover…
Charlotte shook her head to chase away the sound of that word in Julian’s hoarse, rough whisper. No. She wouldn’t tell her friends he’d hidden her from Devon, his body against hers, his hand over her mouth. It would only encourage them, and besides, Julian had said other words, too—words like Bellwood and Hampshire—and whole sentences, as well.
It makes no difference where you go, as long as you leave London.
She didn’t matter to him. She had once, a thousand years ago, and a woman didn’t forget how it felt when a man cherished her. It didn’t feel anything like being a fox at the mercy of a pack of slavering, snarling hounds. It didn’t feel anything like being hunted.
It didn’t feel anything like this.
He looked like the Julian she remembered, the Julian she’d fallen so madly in love with. When he whispered the word lover in her ear, he sounded like Julian. He even smelled like Julian, with that clean scent so wholly his own it made her want to climb inside his skin, to drown in him—
But he wasn’t that man. Not anymore. He was Captain West, and no matter what her friends thought, this harder, colder Julian didn’t care about her. He wasn’t trying to help her, and if she became too lost in her memories of him to remember that, he could convince her to do anything he wished her to do. He could coax her to leave London, to go back to Bellwood or Hadley House, and God help her then.
“But if he’s not motivated by passion, then what?” asked Lissie. “Why should he come to your box at all and follow us to a gaming hell? No one wants a game of piquet that badly, for goodness’ sake.”
Charlotte exhaled a slow, patient breath and tried to gather her wits. “Don’t you see, Lissie? Cam and Ellie are convinced I remain in London for Lord Devon. They think Captain West can intimidate Devon into abandoning his pursuit. Once Devon drops me, they think I’ll leave wicked old London behind and toddle obediently off to the country.”
Annabel snorted. “They don’t know Devon very well, do they? If that’s their plan, then you have nothing to fear from Captain West, Charlotte. Devon is like a hound on a scent. An extremely handsome and divinely wicked hound, that is. He won’t abandon a thing until he’s good and ready.”
It was true, and it wasn’t even just that. Devon was her friend—a true friend, and he became more tempting by the second. He might be wicked, but he was also clever and scrupulous in his loyalties. If she decided to take advantage of his offer, he’d tear apart anyone who threatened her.
“Do you mean to say the Captain and Devon will become rivals for Charlotte’s affections?” Aurelie’s eyes widened. “Oh, how exciting! Do you suppose they’ll fight a duel over her?”
Charlotte resisted the urge to tear her hair out in frustration. “No! Of course not. Captain West doesn’t care a fig for me, Aurelie, and Devon—well, Devon is far too quick to fall for the Captain’s ruse. He’ll do what he will, regardless of Captain West’s nonsense.”
“But is it truly nonsense, Charlotte?” Annabel gave her a considering look. “Perhaps Captain West doesn’t know his own mind as well as he thinks he does.”
Dear God. Now what? “What does that mean?”
“I saw his face last night after you fled the gaming hell. He looked quite wild. He may think he acts only on your family’s behalf, while in truth his reasons are far more…tender.”
Both Lissie and Aurelie nodded.
“I’d think you’d want to know it if he does truly care for you,” Annabel said. “Why not let it play out and see what happens? Perhaps history will repeat itself, after all.”
Charlotte let her head fall into her hands. No matter what she said her friends simply refused to see it. Like the rest of London, they couldn’t get past Julian’s handsome face and the tales of his bravery and heroism.
Annabel was still talking. “Perhaps I should invite Captain West to my rout tonight? Devon will be there, and we can see—”
“No.” Charlotte raised her head. “Don’t you see? It will only encourage him to bedevil me further. I tell you, if we simply disregard him, he’ll give up the chase soon enough—”
A quiet knock on the drawing room door interrupted her. At her summons, Nelson stepped into the room and bowed. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, my lady, but Miss Amelia and Captain West are here.”
Annabel raised her eyebrows at Charlotte. “Perhaps he will give up the chase, but it won’t be today.”
“Not today and not ever, Annabel—not if you insist upon extending invitations to him. I shall have no peace if you do.” Even now in her own home she had no peace, for as Julian no doubt anticipated, she’d never turn Amelia away. “Show them in, Nelson.”
Nelson bowed out of the room, and a few minutes later Amelia darted in. “Charlotte! Oh, how lucky we found you at home. I do so want to have a ride in Hyde Park with you, for we leave for Bellwood very soon, you know, and we won’t have a chance to ride together for months and months, and uncle Julian said he’d escort us, and I have my new riding habit, you see, and—oh!” Amelia spied the widows and sank into a hasty curtsey. “Good afternoon.”
Julian strolled in after Amelia, and drat him, he looked nothing like a false, deceitful, manipulative, ruthless scoundrel. His tall, lean frame was made for riding attire. He was devastating in his tight breeches and bottle green riding coat. The widows were apparently struck speechless by this paragon of masculinity, for they simply stared at him without uttering a word.
The corner of Julian’s mouth twitched, and he swept them an elaborate bow. “Good afternoon, ladies. I do hope we’re not interrupting?”
Annabel recovered first. “Good afternoon, Miss West. Captain West.”
Lissie and Aurelie managed proper curtsies, but they gazed at Julian with such avid glee they looked like two naughty girls caught giggling during the church service. “Did you enjoy yourself last night, Captain?” Lissie shot Charlotte a sly glance. “You seemed to be quite taken with, ah, piquet.”
“Amelia,” Charlotte interrupted. “You left your gloves here the other day. I believe Sarah has them. Won’t you go find her?”
Once Amelia was gone, Julian turned his gaze upon Charlotte. “I enjoyed myself immensely, Lady Symthe. Piquet is rather captivating, isn’t it? I was quite mesmerized.”
“But you left in such a hurry, Captain.” Aurelie nudged Charlotte. “Something tore you away rather suddenly, I think?”
Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. “Anxious to escape with your ill-gotten winnings, no doubt.” He’d wagered and won fairly, but perhaps the insult to his honor would goad him into a temper, or at least an unattractive frown, and then the widows would see what he was really like—
“Charlotte!” Annabel gasped.
“It’s all right, Lady Tallant. Lady Hadley regrets the loss of her necklace.” Julian reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out the amethyst choker, his face so soft with concern when he held it out to her, for a moment even Charlotte believed him sincere. “I meant to return this last night, but if you recall I became distracted.”
Lissie smothered a giggle at Charlotte’s quelling look. “I don’t recall anything of the sort, Captain.”
“Ah, well.” He gave her a suggestive smile. “Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who was distracted. But I can’t imagine any other lady could do justice to such a lovely necklace. I could never deprive you of it, Lady Hadley.” He took her hand and draped the necklace over her palm.
The widows let out an audible sigh.
Charlotte closed her numb fingers around the choker. Dear God. He was far too good at this.
Annabel cleared her throat and came forward to kiss Charlotte on the cheek. “We’ll see you tonight, dearest.” They made their way into the hallway and collected their gloves and bonnets from Nelson, but Annabel turned back just before the butler ushered them out the door. “Oh, and Charlotte? Do extend an invitation to my rout tonight to Captain West, won’t you?”
Charlotte’s heart sank like a stone. She wouldn’t invite him, but it hardly mattered. He’d be there, and not just tonight, but every night until he drove her out of London.
Amelia came back into the room as the widows disappeared through the front door and into Aurelie’s waiting carriage. “You will come riding this afternoon, won’t you, Charlotte?”
Charlotte turned to Amelia with a guilty smile. She did intend to ride this afternoon, but not with Julian. “Oh Amelia, I’m afraid not. I have an engagement this evening, and so much to do—”
“Oh.” Amelia’s dark eyes, so eager only moments before clouded with disappointment.
Julian snapped his riding crop against his boot. “Don’t look so glum, Amelia. You’ll be back in London in, what? Another six months for next year’s season? I’m sure your sister will have time for you then, and you and I can still go today.”
Charlotte slid Julian a resentful look. Would he stop at nothing to achieve his ends? She had all the time in the world for her young sister, and she didn’t want Amelia to think otherwise.
“But Charlotte knows all about the fashions on display on the promenade. Do you know anything about fashions, Uncle Julian?” Amelia’s tone betrayed her deep skepticism.
“Fashions? I can tell you all about the gentlemen’s boots, if you like.”
“Gentlemen’s boots! What is there to know about gentlemen’s boots one way or another?”
Julian looked a bit offended. “Quite a lot, as it happens, such as whether they’re Hoby, or—”
“I’ll change into my riding habit,” Charlotte interrupted, resigned. She had no wish to spend the afternoon with Julian, but she couldn’t disappoint Amelia on her last week in London, or in good conscience doom her young sister to a lecture on gentlemen’s boots.
“I believe Lady Tallant said something about a rout?” Julian asked, once they were all mounted and riding down Grosvenor Street toward Park Lane.
Charlotte kept her eyes on Amelia, who rode just ahead of them. “It’s nothing you’d be interested in. Just a few notables from the demimonde, along with some ne’er-do-wells from the outer fringes of the ton. Not your people at all, I’m afraid. Not a hero amongst them.”
“It sounds delightful. What time shall I fetch you?”
“You shouldn’t. I haven’t extended an invitation to you.”
“Ah, but Lady Tallant has, and I will attend, so you may as well let me escort you.”
If he escorted her tonight, he’d escort her tomorrow night, and the next, and every night thereafter, until her last refuge became no refuge at all. “No. I want you to stop this, Captain.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Lady Hadley. Stop what?”
“Stop trailing about after me as if I were some kind of criminal. Stop lying to my friends.”
For a long moment there was only the clop of the horses’ hooves against the cobblestones, but at last Julian spoke. “Cam and Ellie are eager to have you come to Bellwood. Perhaps you should go. Put an end to this chase and simply do as they wish.”
Perhaps you should go. So simple. The solution always was to those who didn’t understand the problem, and she couldn’t explain it to them, because it had become so bent and twisted inside her even she didn’t understand it. She knew only that she didn’t plan anymore, but acted as best she could at each given moment. She had no idea when she’d be ready to leave London. She only knew it wasn’t today. “Cam and Ellie don’t understand what’s best for me right now.”
“Do you?”
Charlotte might have been reassured if his tone were harsh or angry—she might have been able to convince herself he still had some flicker of feeling for her, some pale, ghostly remnant of what they’d once shared, but he was detached, even faintly amused.
A chill settled over her heart. She didn’t want to confide in him. She didn’t want him in her head, probing at her secrets, but if she told him just enough of the truth to make him understand, perhaps… “I cannot go back to Bellwood. I will not.”
“Which is it? You cannot, or you will not?”
“It amounts to the same thing. I will not, because I can’t. Not yet.”
“Oh? When, then? Next week, or next year? Or never?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitated, because she didn’t want to say the next words, but if they would move him at all, she had to. “If you ever cared for me, Julian, even just a little, then please—leave me alone.”
Charlotte kept her face blank and her gaze focused on Amelia’s back, but her breath stopped in her lungs as she waited for his answer.
Was it enough? Enough to persuade him?
He hesitated just long enough for her heart to leap with hope, but then he turned to her with a smile—that same easy smile that so charmed her friends. “Forgive me, but you never said what time I should collect you this evening.”
It hadn’t changed, his smile. But everything behind it had.
He wasn’t going to listen to her. He wasn’t going to stop, and he’d proved he could manipulate the only friends she trusted—her wicked widows.
The only friends she trusted, but one. She still had one friend who wouldn’t be taken in by Julian—a friend who’d proved his loyalty to her beyond the shadow of a doubt.
She still had Devon.