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He was right, it should have been. But another glance about the hall, another chance to see those watching, and Charlotte simply could not stand it. Her sister needed to be found and found soon, and despite her husband’s assurance, she wasn’t entirely certain he was taking this as seriously as he should be.

Charlotte didn’t want to disobey Henry again. She didn’t want to break the trust she had worked so hard to build. But now, faced with the rumors that were growing seemingly by the hour, she wondered if maybe she would have no choice. If her sister wasn’t found soon, then she might have to take matters into her own hands once again and then deal with the consequences, whatever they may be.

ChapterThirteen

As far as Charlotte was concerned, she had no choice.

Five days had passed since the ball, and in that time, there had been no progress made in the search for her sister. She had tried just one time since then to ask her husband if his friend, Oliver, had found anything, but as was the case when the two were dancing, he wasn’t in the mood to divulge.

“What did I tell you?” he had said, his tone stiff and short.

They’d been having supper, and he had slammed his fork down on the table because apparently, her asking even a simple question was enough to set him off.

“That was three days ago,” she had said, doing her best to sound worried without coming across as argumentative. “I just wanted to see if there had been any… any progress at all. Surely, it doesn’t hurt to ask?”

“And I told you”—he had looked right at her—“when I hear anything, you will know.”

“But—”

“I said no, Charlotte.” A stern scowl, a pause to make sure she wasn’t going to follow up, and then he smiled and went back to his meal.

She couldn’t understand why he was so determined not to talk about her sister. Charlotte supposed he didn’t like that she didn’t trust or believe him. He had told her he was looking, and that should have been enough. And it was! She did believe that he was doing all that he could… it just seemed to her that all he could do wasn’t going to be enough.

And then there were the rumors. Five days they’d had to gather and spread, which was five days too long. She’d already heard word from her father, who was furious when he heard them. And just two days ago, when Charlotte had visited London Park for a walk, she’d been forced to swat away more questions from people whom she considered friends but acted as if all they wanted was to drag her name through the mud.

Her sister was still in the wind. Henry didn’t seem to be doing anything about it. And thus, as far as Charlotte could see it, if Beatrice was to be found, it would fall on her shoulders to do so.

And so it had come to this. Charlotte stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, double-checking her outfit. The door was shut behind her. Her husband lay asleep in his bed one room over. The horse was ready and saddled in the stables. The back door was unlocked, so she might sneak out without being heard.

She didn’t want to disobey his orders, and a tremor of fear simmered deep within her as she pictured how angry he would be if he found out what she was doing. He would shout at her, no doubt. He would scream. But also… she couldn’t help but wonder if he would treat her as he had the last time he’d found her dressed this way. And, further to that point, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was a small part of the reason she’d decided to do this.

It was the same outfit as before, and she took a final look at herself. The trousers. The shirt and coat. The boots. The top hat with her hair tucked under. Her face was smudged with dirt, no make-up at all. She looked like a man, and although she was fraught with nerves, she was also excited, more thrilled than she would have imagined. She’d enjoyed these last few weeks of marriage, but something had been missing. Not boredom but… but something. Something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and her stomach dropped to the floor. She heard the voice growl from the doorway behind her, but she didn’t turn around, as if pretending she hadn’t heard might make it?—

“I said—”Henry stormed into the room. “What are you doing!” He grabbed her by the arm and spun her about, and as predicted, the fury across his face was the stuff of nightmares.

“I-I—” she stammered. Behind her husband, she spotted Miss Forbes lurking in the doorway, head bowed with shame.

“You were sneaking out again, weren’t you?” he demanded.

“N-no,” she stuttered.

“Don’t lie to me!”

The beast had returned. Henry, her loving husband, had transformed into the demon who had accosted her in the stables two weeks ago. He stood tall over her, his broad shoulders and thick arms and wide body taking up the room as if his anger was making him grow.

As for Charlotte? While she was indeed taken by a sense of fear, like a child being rebuked by a parent, a fire lit inside her. Memories of what happened that day in the stables flooded her, and she decided that now was as good a time as any to stand up for herself. Somehow, she sensed the Duke would not mind.

“I had no choice,” she said firmly.

“Meaning?”

“I told you, I want my sister found, and I thought this to be the best way to?—”

“To what?” His face was flushed red, and his eyes were wild. “You really think that a night spent going from tavern to tavern, dressed as a man, would see you magically come across her? Are you really so foolish?”