David felt his own face heat. Although he’d never spoken of it, he guessed she’d realized his funds were limited and wanted to help offset these costs. As embarrassing as the concept was, he was grateful for the offer. “I’m sure you’ll be much more efficient than I would be.”
Her suggestion also made them partners in this venture. It settled his nerves a bit.
They were alone, and the front door was closed. He pulled her down and captured her mouth. Her warm, responsive lips moved against his and his every hesitation skipped away. Sometimes he forgot military service had taught him to live for today instead of the distant and uncertain future.
Without breaking their kiss, he grasped her narrow waist and tugged her onto his lap. Her skirt and petticoats foamed up and he found and gripped one silk-covered ankle. A contented sound escaped her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself to him. He thought he could be content staying like this forever, smelling and tasting Charlotte, cradling her in his arms. He angled his head and deepened the kiss.
#
“Jane, you needn’t stay next to me.” Charlotte frowned at her tenacious friend. “I don’t need protection.”
Jane had yet to leave her side as they mingled with perhaps thirty other guests in Lady Hamilton’s music room. Charlotte loved that her friend wanted to encourage her, but sometimes she wondered if Jane believed she couldn’t fend for herself. Although accusations and unsubstantiated innuendo had once wounded her, Charlotte had been proving for some time now that she no longer feared society gossip. The struggling widows she met at work had strengthened her determination to do so. They were persevering, and she had so many advantages they did not.
Also, before her every day was a man who met life without excuses. Charlotte’s gaze went to David, who sat conversing with their hostess. His broad shoulders and straight back looked as strong as she knew the inner man to be.
He laughed at something Lady Hamilton said. Red glinted in his hair, and a warm, deep craving to sink her fingers into his shiny locks overwhelmed Charlotte. She’d pull his mouth to hers and…
She curled her fingers into her palms. She couldn’t stand in the middle of a soiree dreaming about Scott, but she wasn’t sure she could stop herself. Tonight would be their first night at the cottage.
Charlotte looked around to see if anyone was watching her face. No telling what her expression had revealed.
Jane’s voice drew her attention.
“I’m not here to protect you. I enjoy your company,” her friend said, chin jutting forward. For a moment she looked about to say more, but instead she gave a little shrug and turned her attention back to the room.
Lady Hamilton had been kind enough to host a soiree to promote the Patriotic Fund and the gathering was well attended. Everywhere she looked, Charlotte found cordial faces. Tonight she had a feeling of acceptance she hadn’t experienced since before the scandal and Haliday’s death.
“Thank goodness society seems to have acquired some common sense,” Jane remarked. “Lady James and Miss Bettencourt both asked questions about you and your work. I think they’re envious.”
Charlotte wished she could relax, but she suspected she might always have a nagging distrust. “Hmm. I doubt that, but I can’t deny they’re friendlier.” Everyone had been pleasant, but one person was glaringly absent. “Etherton didn’t want to come tonight?”
She kept her tone casual. There had been no more talk of Phillip since the last time, so Charlotte was in the dark. Jane had been accompanied by her sister-in-law instead of her husband, and as accommodating as Jane had been this evening, something about her wasn’t right. A too-bright smile stretched her lips. Flushed cheeks supplanted her creamy complexion. Also, Jane had lost weight and faint shadows darkened the delicate skin below her eyes.
“He’s still at his club.”
Jane and Phillip hadn’t resolved their estrangement, and it had been a week! Charlotte chided herself. She had been so caught up in her own life she’d not checked on her friend. She had honestly assumed the pair would resolve their quarrel. It was a shock to find they hadn’t.
“Jane, I’ve been a terrible friend. I’m so sorry. Are the two of you talking?”
“No.” The look in Jane’s brown eyes made Charlotte wish she hadn’t asked, especially since they weren’t in private. “Don’t look so stricken. You know I’d send a note if I needed you. I’ve spent my days thinking, and I’m just as angry and hurt as the day I found out. Phillip takes the girls to the park every day, but he’s yet to speak more than a few words to me.”
Jane’s shoulders lifted in an elegant little shrug, and her gaze wandered away. A moment later she looked back at Charlotte, eyes wide and dark with dismay. Charlotte turned to see what had disturbed her. At some distance stood Lady Garret, her molasses-gold dress several shades darker than her blonde hair, laughing up at Lord Radcliffe.
As if she felt Charlotte watching, Lady Garret turned, and for a moment their eyes locked.
Jolted by the baroness’s bold, confrontational stare, bright with taunting amusement, Charlotte looked away. Would she never get over the stab of hurt she felt each time she unexpectedly encountered this Circe? The sight of her affected Charlotte much the same as a noxious odor—she had a strong compulsion to get away. Instead, Charlotte straightened her spine and plastered a smile on her face.
She hated that a mere glimpse of the woman could put her in such a state. Even though she’d successfully hid her reaction, she couldn’t deny to herself that she’d had one. It was as if the baroness still held sway over her. Her eyes sought Scott. She caught him watching her and immediately felt better. His calm, steady gaze reminded her he admired and believed in her.
He said something to Boone, who stood behind him, and a moment later wheeled up beside her. Charlotte wanted to sink into his lap, the way she had at their cottage, and bury her face in the crook of his neck. She’d feel secure with his arms wrapped around her, and that certainty astounded her. When had she begun to equate total safety with David Scott, and what had happened to her determination of a moment ago to stand up for herself? Sexual attraction was one thing, but she couldn’t let herself become dependent on a man. She’d been fool enough to do that once, but never again.
David isn’t like anyone else. He’d never betray you.
Charlotte ignored the disturbing little voice in her head. They had been careful to make an arrangement that maintained their personal independence. It suited them both.
“What is she doing here?” Jane asked in a fierce whisper.
“I imagine she came with Radcliffe. He’s Lady Hamilton’s cousin. I believe the past month they’ve been seen in each other’s company on several occasions—or so the Times has reported.”
Pleased to hear her voice sound cool and pragmatic, Charlotte concentrated on maintaining an impassive expression. Beside her, Scott’s gaze darted to Lady Garret and his eyes narrowed, giving him a dangerous look. A subtle tension stiffened his body.
He looked at Charlotte again, and his eyes roved her face, fiercely assessing. Oh, God. The feeling of safety he gave her… The icy strain caused by Lady Garret’s presence had completely dissolved. A different kind of awareness thrummed through her veins. She wanted to kiss David, open her mouth and slide her tongue along his. Rub her breasts against him. Watch his blue eyes heat and become gas-lit flame. A warm, aching emptiness settled between her legs. An emptiness that pulled and tingled and begged to be filled.
Scott sucked in a sharp breath. “Come. Sit down. Lady Hamilton is telling everyone to have a seat. The pianist will begin in a few minutes.”
Jane gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze and moved off to join her sister-in-law. Charlotte managed to pull her eyes from Scott’s and force her feet forward. It was a relief to have the anxiety caused by Lady Garret driven from her mind, but Scott’s power to do so was itself unsettling.
Charlotte moved to a chair that sat at the end of a row. Boone posit
ioned Scott’s chair next to hers and then went to stand near the wall. Lady Garret was behind her somewhere, so it was time to act like the kind of woman she was determined to be. Circe couldn’t bother her unless Charlotte let her.
Awareness of Scott’s presence beside her heightened all Charlotte’s senses. Even though they weren’t touching, she could feel him along the left side of her body, a sensuous heat that penetrated clear through the silk of her dress and her many layers of petticoats. She closed her eyes, inhaling the spicy masculine scent she’d memorized. Suddenly aware she was swaying toward him, she snapped her eyes open and straightened. He sat grinning at her, the gleam in his eyes bringing warmth to her face. She opened her fan and applied it vigorously, which only made his grin widen.
“I think you’ve spoken to most of the people here,” he said. “It appears you’re back in the good graces of society. They probably realize how ridiculous they were and feel guilty about it now. Time and distance brought them some sense.”
“Mmm.” It was sweet of him to try and distract her and make her feel better. She could agree with him and leave it at that, but a powerful desire to tell him the truth gripped her.
“I just can’t trust it,” she whispered. “I’ve had too many I thought friends turn away from me when it all happened. Lady Garret just reminds me of that. I still feel betrayed. How can they expect me to forget? Or to forgive.”
David’s jaw tightened. “I want to hold you,” he said, his voice a low rasp.
Inside, she quivered with longing. Scott’s arms would fill the emptiness that persisted even while she smiled and mingled. He would soothe the distress Lady Garret provoked—but not for much longer, she assured herself.
Most of the seats filled and the room began to settle, but a small flurry of activity drew Charlotte’s attention to the back of the room. It was her father. Lady Hamilton drew him inside, directing all her attention and conversation to him. She drew him forward and up to the very front row, seated him, laid her fan on the chair beside him and went to stand at the front of the room.
Obviously, their hostess planned to sit beside him. Charlotte wasn’t overly surprised. Her dynamic, handsome father had been attracting beautiful and savvy women for years. As one of the wealthiest men in London, it didn’t matter if Matthew Shelby arrived late. It didn’t matter that the huge, sparkling diamond stickpin in his necktie turned his elegant, correct attire flashy. His common beginnings no longer mattered. His wealth compensated for every failing.
The pianist strode to the piano, and Lady Hamilton began her introduction. Having heard the man play several years before, Charlotte expected a commanding performance. He bowed in acknowledgment of the introduction, but as he straightened, his gaze landed on Scott’s legs and the wheeled chair and then darted away.
Had Scott noticed? He hadn’t moved or in any way indicated he’d seen that startled, assessing look, yet somehow Charlotte knew he had. She wanted to reassure him, to grip his hand and tell him how full he made her heart. But she couldn’t do any of those things.
She leaned toward him, her mouth near his ear, and hid their faces with her open fan. She took a long, delicious breath that filled her head with the scent of David Scott and turned her insides to warm candle wax, and she could feel the stiff fabric of her corset pressing against the tender tips of her breasts. “I can’t wait,” she whispered.
His head turned her way. He studied her eyes and her lips, and his mouth curved.
As the notes of Chopin’s “Heroic Polonaise” spilled from the pianist’s fingers, Charlotte sat back against her chair and thought of the hours ahead.
#
“Good evening, Scott. Charlotte, I need a word with you.”
Charlotte’s father stood before them. Charlotte hadn’t seen him since the day of their argument at her office. Lady Hamilton’s guests were dispersing, and their hostess stood at the door, bidding them good-night.
“Will it take long?” Scott waited beside her. He’d escorted her tonight, so he would have to wait if there was a discussion.
Father’s mouth tightened. For once, though, Charlotte didn’t really care if he was perturbed. She’d waited all evening to be alone with David, and now Father was delaying that. Of course, if she refused he’d ignore her. When he had his mind set on something, he selfishly disregarded all but his own need.
He picked up her hand, wrapped it over his arm, gave Scott a nod, and led her away to a deserted corner. She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with his long legs. At least he didn’t waste any time getting to the point.
“What was that woman doing here?”
Charlotte didn’t need to ask to whom he referred. “I believe Lady Garret came with Lord Radcliffe.” The couple had been among the first to leave.
“What is Radcliffe about, getting himself mixed up with her?” Shelby didn’t wait for Charlotte to answer. “Did she approach you?”
That hard look in his eyes made men quake, but Charlotte was inured to it. “No. She didn’t.”
His expression shifted and his tension appeared to ease. The concern surprised her. On the heels of that, warmth unfolded at her center.
Her father nodded and headed them back toward Scott, who’d sat watching their exchange. “If she says anything objectionable, I want to know at once.”
Ah. Suddenly, Charlotte understood. He hadn’t asked a single question about her welfare. Hadn’t spoken a friendly word. No, of course not. His concern was for her reputation, not her happiness. And while she’d shown no greater amount of caring for him, that didn’t matter. Father liked it that way.
#
Vivian Garret held her breath as David Scott and Charlotte Haliday entered the cottage before her. As instructed, her coachman had stopped some distance down the street. She stared, hardly able to believe her eyes. Scott and Charlotte were engaged in an affaire de coeur.
She’d known it. It had been sheer luck that she and Radcliffe arrived at Lady Hamilton’s fashionable townhouse just behind Scott’s coach. She’d observed the couple as Scott lowered himself into his chair then sensed something in the way they looked at and spoke to each other. They hadn’t known they were being observed, and so they’d not been guarding their reactions. There had only been one quick, shared look, but she’d recognized it.
Then, inside—what fun!—seeing the insipid Charlotte start after noticing her. Vivian had nearly laughed aloud. Hopefully her presence at the soiree had ruined the tedious ninny’s evening. Vivian had wrangled the invitation from Radcliffe with that very intent, and discomposing Matthew Shelby as well had made things that much better. His presence had been a surprise.
Of course, Radcliffe had expected the evening to end with them enjoying themselves in her bed, but she’d avoided that by pretending a sudden illness. The genuine concern the earl demonstrated made her squirm with guilt, but she would make it up to him another night. At her residence she’d convinced him to leave her and then took a Hansom back to Lady Hamilton’s. And, lo and behold, Vivian’s speculation bore fruit. Scott and Charlotte had led her here.
Oh, what a delight! Hadn’t the haughty Charlotte changed? She was Naughty Charlotte now.
Scott’s carriage left. The lights in the front of the cottage went out, leaving it lit only by a distant glow from a back room. Vivian’s appreciation faded. She rubbed suddenly throbbing temples, knocked on the cab’s roof, signaling the driver to move on, then leaned back, madly blinking to keep brimming tears from falling from her eyes. How could Charlotte Haliday be meeting a lover? Quite unfairly, the forlorn widow was rising from her ashes like the Phoenix. She’d already lived a life of privilege and wealth. Her father had given her the education, clothes and jewels that most women could only dream of. She’d married a titled lord and become titled herself. And now she’d taken a lover, which meant she was happy. It was…not…fair.
Swiping at her eyes, Vivian stamped her foot. The satisfaction she’d recently found with Radcliffe seemed suddenly hollow. R
adcliffe wouldn’t marry her. She’d gained a reputation when she’d had her affair with Haliday and was no longer the kind of woman Radcliffe wanted for a wife, while if Vivian knew anything at all about Charlotte Haliday née Shelby, she knew the look Charlotte had shared with Scott meant she loved him. Somehow the lady had persevered through scandal and tragedy and found love. Why was she fated to have so much good fortune?
Well, it wouldn’t last. Vivian didn’t intend for Charlotte to triumph and marry a hero. No, indeed. Disaster had befallen Charlotte once before, and Vivian would make sure it did again.
Sniffling, Vivian tightened her wrap against the chill night air. She had meant only to fool Haliday into thinking his wife had hired a man to assault him, when in fact it had been herself. The ruffian was supposed to give Haliday a mild thrashing and warn him to stay away from her. Vivian had assumed Haliday would easily be convinced the attack was engineered by his wife. After all, wasn’t a spiteful, spurned wife capable of almost anything? Only, something had gone wrong that night behind his club. She’d underestimated Haliday. The expected grappling had turned into a fierce engagement that ended with both men dead.
Hot prickles ran down her spine and skated over her skin. Even now Vivian could hardly stand to think of him as dead, and she refused to feel guilty. She’d merely wanted to make Haliday angry with his wife. Wanted to create more fodder for gossip. Wanted society to have more evidence that Charlotte was a scheming, jealous shrew, and in turn Matthew Shelby would have been incensed at the additional damage done to his daughter’s reputation and marriage. It had all gone awry.
Now Vivian had been presented with another opportunity to crush Charlotte Haliday and her father, and this time, she vowed, nothing would go wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Charlotte stood staring at the aromatic blooms that graced the table, unaccountably uneasy and not the least bit hungry.
Mrs. Penny, Rose Cottage’s new cook-housekeeper, had left a cold repast for them. Boone asked if he might be of service but, dismissed by Scott, retired. The designated housekeeper’s sitting room-cum-bedroom was unoccupied and available for his use since Mrs. Penny went home each night.
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