James assisted her to regain her seat, his hands warm on her arms. “If anyone asks who you are, I will say you are a distant cousin from the country. Understood?”
She nodded again, waiting to hear his other instructions because she knew he would have more.
“If there is any trouble you will walk immediately toward the door. Do not wait for me. I will join you when I'm able.”
“What sort of trouble would that be?” She couldn’t imagine leaving without him.
“If anyone realizes you're a woman there will be hell to pay.”
The idea of him getting into a fight because of her caused her stomach to sink. She didn't want to cause him problems or place him in harm’s way.
Surely, he was exaggerating. She didn't think anyone would notice her. Her clothes were unremarkable. Her hat sat low on her forehead and, if she kept her eyes down, no one would see her features. While she was shorter than most men, including James, that didn't mean she looked like a boy. At least, she hoped she didn’t.
“We're going to walk inside, pause, then if all is well, we will walk slowly around the room, watch a hand or two of cards, and then we will leave. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she said, almost breathless at the idea of what they were about to do. She couldn't wait to tell Margaret every detail. In truth, his orders would give her more of an opportunity than she’d hoped for. She’d feared he would only allow her to glance inside and leave. He was being generous, but she had no intention of pointing that out for fear he’d change his mind.
The carriage turned another corner and soon drew to a halt. She shifted to the edge of her seat only to have James hold up his hand, palm out to halt her.
“I will go first to make certain all is well.”
“What could possibly be wrong on the street?”
“If your brother is entering the establishment when we do that will cause a problem.” He gave her a pointed glare. “Do I need to name other possibilities?”
However, she didn't take offense at his irritated tone. She knew it had more to do with being worried over her than anger. Her brother acted much the same way.
She pressed her lips tight and nodded. From this moment on she needed to bite her tongue. Any comments or questions would have to wait until they were alone again.
James alighted from the carriage and looked both ways before gesturing for her to follow. He walked ahead of her and once again she realized how accustomed she had become to good manners. He didn't wait for her or offer his arm. Perhaps there were disadvantages to being a man after all. She rather liked such gestures. She hurried forward to catch up with him.
“Shoulders back and lengthen your stride.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked along the pavement.
“Is that better?”
His only answer was a growl.
She did her best to match the way he walked, but the breeches pulled against her bottom in the oddest way.
He reached for the door and stepped inside, leaving her to hold it for herself.
“Good evening, my lord,” an attendant said from his post.
“Evening,” James replied as he continued forward.
She nodded at the attendant, careful to angle her hat so not too much of her face could be seen.
James reached another door and opened it to reveal a bar. Tables and chairs filled much of the room, only a few of them occupied, and a long, gleaming dark wood bar lined one wall. James strode toward the bar and nodded at the bartender. “Two whiskeys.”
The bartender nodded and moved away to fill the order.
Charlotte looked forward to the drink, hoping it would settle her nerves and help her to act more naturally and less suspicious. The mirrored glass behind the bar reflected the room, allowing her to study the area without being too obvious.
The bartender placed the drinks before them and Charlotte reached for hers only to pause when James sighed. He glanced over his shoulder as if to make certain the bartender had moved away then said, “Your hands will give you away.”
She glanced down at the one that held the glass, realizing how feminine it looked—dainty and pale—compared to James’ more masculine one.
“We had best leave your drink here,” he added quietly. “That way you can leave your hands at your sides when we enter the card room.”
She nodded, pleased that she remembered not to speak. Then she took a sip of the whiskey, doing her best not to sputter as it burned a path down her throat. But there was little she could do to prevent her eyes from watering at the strong spirits.
The corner of James’ mouth quirked. “Should I have ordered you a sherry?”
“Do they have that here?” she asked with a smile.
“Highly doubtful.” He sipped his drink as he glanced about the room, nodding at one man but ignoring the others.
Was that because he didn't know them or didn't like them? She hadn't considered the unspoken rules that governed the way men communicated until now. When women interacted, much could be interpreted by the small nuances in their behavior. There was certainly a difference between a cool nod of greeting and a warm one. Perhaps that held true for men as well. She managed two more sips as James tossed back the rest of his drink then raised a brow.
She ignored his obvious impatience and continued to take in the room in the reflection, noting the dim light, the sparkling crystal, dark wood, and low murmur of voices interspersed with occasional laughter. The place had a hushed atmosphere. It was difficult to tell whether the guests discussed business or pleasure. She supposed they did both.
“Seen enough?” James asked.
Charlotte emptied her glass, hissing at the way it burnt her throat, then nodded.
“Remember, keep your eyes down. If you see anyone you know, advise me immediately, and we will leave.”
She nodded though she hoped that didn't come to pass.
James nodded his thanks at the bartender then strolled toward the door with Charlotte directly behind him. He paused as they stepped into the corridor. “Walk at my side not behind me,” he instructed. “You're my friend not my servant.”
Again Charlotte nodded, clenching her fists when the urge to loop her arms through his overcame her. That would never do.
They stepped into the card room and paused to look around. Though fascinated, Charlotte did her best to match James’ casual glance at the surroundings.
Tables were spaced about the room, mostly with seats for four. She noted several familiar lords but didn’t say anything to James because she didn’t know them well enough to be recognized, especially dressed as she was.
After a long moment, James moved closer to the first table and paused again. She watched, quickly recognizing the game as whist. The players at the next table played vingt-et-un. The men seemed entirely focused on the game and paid her no mind. Drinks sat at their elbows, but she was surprised none of the players were smoking. Perhaps that wasn’t allowed in some establishments. With so many men in an enclosed area, the smoke would’ve quickly become overwhelming.
It was difficult to tell who was winning or losing at first. Soon the details became more apparent. The number of chips piled before one player. The scowl on another’s face. They continued slowly around the room, Charlotte’s nerves easing the longer they were there. Hazard, a game of dice, was played at a table along the rear of the room.
“Care to play a hand, Redmond?” one of the players asked James.
“Not with you, Cartwright,” James replied with a smile. “You are far too lucky.”
“It’s skill, not luck,” the man protested.
Charlotte committed as many details to memory as possible, from the striped wallpaper and comfortable chairs to the men themselves who seemed oblivious to all else but the cards they held. She could imagine James and Edward doing the same thing and wondered how much they won or lost on any given night.
“Redmond, you didn
’t tell me you’d be here.”
Charlotte stilled, aware of James stiffening beside her. Edward’s voice was one she’d recognize anywhere. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. She didn’t dare look at her brother, certain he’d recognize her immediately. What should she do?
Chapter Seven
James froze at the sound of Edward's voice and slowly turned to face his friend. It took all of his will not to glance at Charlotte to see her reaction.
“Wynn. I didn't expect to see you here this evening.”
“You didn't ask,” Edward replied with a frown.
James shifted his body to block more of Charlotte from her brother’s view. “I was just about to leave. I don’t think there’s anything exciting happening here this evening.”
The irony of the statement had James clenching his jaw. This was more excitement than he’d experienced since returning to London, but not the sort he enjoyed. His heart threatened to hammer its way free from his chest.
Edward considered one of the nearby tables. “You don't wish to try your hand at whist this evening? You normally have excellent luck.”
James’ stomach lurched at the impossible idea of sitting at a table with Charlotte nearby, even if she was in disguise. He had no doubt her identity would soon be revealed if she lingered for long.
But he didn't want to overreact. That would only rouse Edward’s suspicions that something was amiss.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “For some reason, playing cards holds little appeal this evening.” He kept his gaze on Edward, willing his friend not to look over his shoulder at Charlotte. Now that James had his back toward her, he wasn't certain if she remained or if she'd had the good sense to depart as quickly as her feet could carry her.
Yet knowing her and her recent quest for thrills, she was probably still standing directly behind him. Guilt settled heavily over his shoulders at the realization of just how wrong the outing could end. If Edward recognized Charlotte, he might very well inadvertently reveal her identity. The worry had him drawing a long, slow breath to steady himself.
But that was only if Edward actually saw her.
James had to make certain he didn't. He eased his hand behind his back and gestured toward the door, hoping that if Charlotte still stood there, she would take his hint and leave.
“Do you intend to join a game?” James asked Edward then shifted as if to look over the room. He glanced over his shoulder but didn't catch sight of Charlotte. Had she already left or was she standing out of sight?
“Perhaps. Did you come alone?” Edward asked.
James hesitated. If he said yes, Edward would wonder why he hadn’t asked him to join him. If he said no, Edward would want to know with whom he’d come. He chose a noncommittal reply. “I hoped to find you here.”
“Excellent.” Edward clapped James’ shoulder. “Then let us join a game and see how our luck is this evening.”
James nodded but didn't move. If Charlotte remained behind him, he wanted to keep her hidden until Edward’s attention was turned elsewhere. “What is your game of choice this evening?”
As Edward considered the various tables, James eased back, half expecting to bump into Charlotte, but felt nothing. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw she was gone. A sweep of the room didn't reveal her anywhere. He wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or worried.
He hoped she'd returned to his carriage and instructed his driver to take her home. Surely she wouldn’t wait for him. Heaven forbid if he and Edward decided to leave and climbed into James’ carriage only to find Charlotte sitting inside. The concern nearly made him shudder.
His worry over her was getting the best of him. He had to make certain she was well. He moved closer to Edward. “I’ll return directly.”
“Where are you going?” Edward’s frown had him grasping for an answer.
“To advise my driver to go home. We’ll take a hackney when we leave here.”
Edward nodded, and James strode out of the establishment only to find his carriage gone and no sign of Charlotte.
The evening was going to be a long one. He wouldn't be able to relax until he knew she had arrived home unscathed. He returned to the card room and followed Edward to a table, his thoughts still on Charlotte.
This was the last outing he would take her on, no matter what she said to try to convince him otherwise. His nerves simply couldn’t take it.
~*~
Charlotte drew a relieved breath as she settled onto the tufted bench seat of James’ carriage while it rolled forward. That had been far too close. If Edward had recognized her... She couldn't bear to complete the thought. Both she and James would have had much to explain.
She’d considered waiting for James but thought it best if she returned home and sent the carriage back for him. Though his driver had hesitated at her request to return her to where he’d picked her up, he’d at last dipped his head in agreement.
Charlotte sighed as her nerves calmed, already missing James. She’d hoped they would be able to spend more time together than they had. But at least Edward hadn’t recognized her.
While she’d assuaged her curiosity about Madame Gaston’s, the evening had been nothing like she’d expected. She had yet to determine whether the fright caused by the close call made the outing worthwhile. How was she going to convince James to take her on another since this one had nearly ended in disaster?
But she need only think of marrying Lord Samuelson to be determined to go again, as long as it was with James.
~*~
James swayed slightly as he stared up at the window where a faint light shone. He was fairly certain that was Charlotte’s bedchamber window. The question was how certain was he? His luck had been good since their close call with Edward. He had the notes in his pocket to prove it.
His weight shifted again of its own accord, and he braced against a tree. He hadn't realized how much he'd had to drink until the hackney ride here. Sitting in the rocking vehicle had caused his head to spin.
He’d hoped a drink would dull the sharp edge of his concern over Charlotte, but perhaps he’d taken it too far. His thoughts had been consumed with whether some harm had befallen her. Had she made it home? His thoughts circled until he thought he’d go mad.
His efforts to convince Edward to call it a night early were to no avail. His friend insisted on playing at more than one gaming hell, declaring his luck had never been better. James won several hands as well which resulted in friends buying them both drinks. Too many, based on the way the scenery around him shifted alarmingly.
He had dropped Edward at his front door then pretended to drive away, only to rap on the roof of the hackney to request the driver to halt. The hackney waited down the street, but James couldn't go home until he knew all was well with Charlotte.
Did he dare try to find a way to lure her to the window? He shook his head, certain the idea was a terrible one. But that didn’t stop him from searching the ground for a small stone. Thank goodness the nearly full moon was visible this evening.
The faint light glowing in her window might be due to her maid still waiting up for her. Or perhaps Charlotte snuggled in her bed, reading.
The image of her wearing nothing more than a nightrail with her hair loose around her lodged firmly in his mind and stole his breath. He frowned at his inappropriate thoughts. Charlotte was his best friend’s younger sister. That meant he was more or less a second brother to her. Unfortunately, his feelings toward her were no longer brotherly.
He gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t here to accost her, only to make certain she had returned home safely. How could he possibly seek his bed without knowing for certain?
James carefully considered the distance to the window then took aim and threw, ridiculously pleased when the pebble struck the windowpane with a satisfying clack. A long moment passed but nothing happened.
With a frustrated growl, he searched for another rock, even
more determined on his quest. He threw the next one a little too hard, and it smacked against the glass, making him worry he’d cracked the pane. But his effort was rewarded when the light inside the chamber shifted. At least he thought it did. He’d definitely had too much to drink. A candle soon appeared in the window along with the shadow of a person. Was it Charlotte?
Good heavens. A knot of worry tightened his chest. What if that was Lord or Lady Wynn’s window? How could he possibly explain his presence?
Heart pounding, hands damp, he studied the shadow for clues but couldn’t tell for certain who it was. The sound of a latch click filled the night, and the window opened. Charlotte leaned out to peer at him, and he was ever so thrilled to see her.
“Who is it?” Her hushed tone had never sounded so delightful. His knees went weak with relief, nearly making him stagger again.
“It's me,” he whispered only to realize she couldn't possibly know who that was. “James.”
“Whatever are you doing down there? Never mind.” She disappeared, the window latching shut.
Disappointment struck him as he stared at the empty window. When the candlelight disappeared, leaving the room dark, his shoulders slumped in defeat. How silly of him to think they could carry on a conversation in the middle of the night through an open upstairs window.
He had come to make certain she’d returned home, and she obviously had. Perhaps now he could get some sleep. Yet he couldn't seem to tear himself away and continued to watch the window as if he were some lovesick swain, wishing she would return.
The rattle of a garden door had him turning, one hand braced against the tree. To his surprise, Charlotte stepped out, looking this way and that until she found him. “James? What on earth are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
He frowned, trying to decide which question to answer first. “Not really.” He knew the hour was late but had no idea of the exact time. “Did I wake you?” He shook his head at the silly question.
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