Page 21 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

F our whole days.

Charlotte was trapped in her bedroom and restless. After the jarring episode near the mews and her brief stay at Lord Carrington’s town house, James had helped Charlotte safely back to her aunt’s abode. She was able to slip in unnoticed before the household awakened.

When Bailey came in the morning after the cutthroat’s attack, her lady’s maid immediately saw the bandage around Charlotte’s neck. The two decided it would be best to tell her aunt that Charlotte was ill.

Charlotte now knew the best way to keep Aunt Frances’s attentions at bay. Her aunt had not personally checked on her once, fearing she would become sick. She had a busy social schedule to uphold, after all. Due to these necessary obligations, she instead relied on reports from Bailey.

At first, Charlotte was relieved to have a respite from her aunt’s nagging, but after four long days of confinement, she would have welcomed her aunt’s badgering.

She had written notes to Beatrice, Eleanor, and Bridget, inviting them to visit a tea shop with her, but she had to cancel with a vague excuse after she was attacked.

Without any sustained distractions, she had too much time to think about the Incident and its related events, which made her more anxious about her future.

To make matters worse, a certain sable-haired man, whose gray eyes changed as quickly as the wintry sky, invaded her thoughts each time she tried to plan the grand Society marriage she would have with the Duke of Westcliffe.

Charlotte felt her cheeks flush while she sat at the escritoire in her bedroom as she recalled the way James’s fingers had deftly brought her to an earthshattering release that evening in the gardens. But Charlotte knew he had not shown her everything. There was more.

She had once asked Arthur what happened between a man and a woman, but his cheeks had flushed just as much as hers, and he would not give her much information.

Instead, she had to piece it together by eavesdropping on her brothers and their friends and by reading a lascivious book left behind when they went off to Eton. Yes, there was a whole lot more.

Charlotte tried to banish the Captain from her thoughts and stared at the letter she had avoided opening. She recognized its seal as that of the House of Westcliffe. Charlotte’s body was tense while she broke open the wax. She was worried that someone had seen her with James and told the Duke.

Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of the consequences of Westcliffe rescinding his attentions. Her hands trembled while she unfolded the foolscap.

Charlotte skimmed the contents. She had always been a quick reader and let out a sigh of relief. The Duke apologized for missing the past few days’ social events due to a family matter.

She was safe.

For now.

A knock on the door sounded.

“Come in,” Charlotte called out curiously. She had not seen anyone but Bailey these past few days. Her lady’s maid had fortunately procured endless books and even a chessboard to help abate her boredom. Bailey must have thought of something else to occupy Charlotte’s time.

The door flew open and three well-dressed ladies marched into her bedroom.

“What a surprise,” Charlotte exclaimed. Beatrice, Eleanor, and Bridget surrounded her bed and promptly assessed her condition.

Beatrice, who seemed to be the leader the group, spoke first. “Although we only met briefly, something seemed off in your note canceling our trip to the tea shop. We were all excited to get to know you better. Just as I thought. You’re not in fact ill.

” Her eyes focused on the bandage around her neck.

“Just a minor mishap. All is well,” Charlotte responded, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Captain Hughes was right.” This time, it was the voice of Bridget.

Charlotte shifted to see the timid woman standing with her shoulders back just behind Beatrice.

Her voice was bolder than Charlotte expected, given her behavior at the Markham Ball, though it still had a soft, melodic quality.

Charlotte tucked away the fact that Bridget seemed more comfortable in an intimate setting with only women present.

“Captain Hughes?” Charlotte asked innocently, hoping she could hide her interest at the mention of his name.

“He’s staying at our home as a guest of my brother. When it was mentioned that you were ill, he seemed worried and suggested we check on you. He suspected it wasn’t contagious.”

“His guess was correct.” Charlotte tried to draw them off any scent that would suggest James knew more about what had happened to her.

“Now Charlotte,” Eleanor began in her silky voice that held a constant sense of aristocratic insouciance, “we all have our own secrets. Bridget told us Captain Hughes seemed very concerned about how you fared. Is there anything between you?” She waved her hand dismissively. “We’ll not judge.”

Charlotte tried to hide the guilty look on her face as the three ladies gazed at her.

She knew she did not have to tell them everything about what had transpired with James, but there seemed to be an unspoken expectation that Charlotte reveal at least a tidbit of information.

Confiding in these women would perhaps help them all become friends.

Friends?

Charlotte had never had such a relationship with anyone, yet she thought these three ladies who showed concern for her well-being could potentially be called such, if all went well.

Charlotte’s heart warmed, and she realized she had to trust them if they were to become friends and be considered one another’s confidants.

While Charlotte was making the decision on how much to tell the other women, Bridget broke the awkward silence. “Captain Hughes was most insistent I deliver this personally to you,” she stated in her unthreatening voice. She procured a letter from her reticule and placed it on the bedside table.

The interlude gave Charlotte enough time to gather her courage and show a degree of vulnerability to them.

“Captain Hughes saved me from some trouble.” Charlotte pointed to her neck. “I believe I owe him a great deal.”

“Is that all you feel? Gratitude?” Eleanor asked pointedly. She looked at Charlotte with her deceptively lazy eyes.

Charlotte swallowed. She had not revealed much of anything.

Trust.

She had to trust these women. “Perhaps not. To be honest, I don’t know what I feel. I can’t stop thinking of him. And I have to forget about him, but it’s so hard. My betrothal to the Duke will be announced soon.”

The ladies nodded with understanding etched on their faces. They too were unwilling female cogs in the constantly spinning wheel of the ton .

“Bridget, can you thank Captain Hughes for his concern? I’ll read his letter in private so that I can pen an appropriate response. I have to be polite, but then I need to move on.”

Charlotte did not trust herself to read the letter in front of the three women. She was afraid her emotions were too muddled at the moment and would be written across her face.

“I’ll tell him,” Bridget responded. She grinned, which transformed her visage from the sullen look Charlotte had witnessed at the Markham Ball. If one could ignore her sad eyes, Bridget really did have the most angelic appearance.

“There’s one additional reason we came to call,” Eleanor said.

“Oh?” Charlotte hoped the conversation would shift away from her personal affairs.

Eleanor eased four invitations out of her reticule with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Lady Stanhope’s masquerade ball is in three days.

It’s a deliciously scandalous event that occurs each year during the Season, where all propriety is left at the door.

Beatrice and Bridget have already agreed to attend.

We thought you’d like to be included as well. ”

She pulled a separate piece of foolscap from her reticule that was dyed black and had no writing on it. Eleanor smirked, then made eye contact with each of the other ladies in the bedroom. “But it gets better. I haven’t told anyone yet that I received a coveted invitation to the black door.”

Beatrice and Bridget gasped, and Eleanor’s face broke into a triumphant smile. Charlotte eyed them with consternation.

“Um…Eleanor, if you wouldn’t mind explaining the black door ?” Charlotte’s voice hitched at the end, feeling self-conscious and na?ve.

“It’s absolutely glorious. Only the truly depraved get to cross the black door,” Eleanor replied gleefully.

Charlotte did not know how to react. She had much more important matters to address, namely the Incident , and did not think crossing some forbidden door would be of much help.

Charlotte’s eyes darted to the two other women to gauge their reactions.

Bridget looked down at her feet uncomfortably while Beatrice had a determined look on her face.

“Although Eleanor has procured invitations for all of us,” Beatrice explained, “she only has one for the black door. She may be able to get one or two of us past the guard, but not everyone.”

Charlotte pondered the invitation. She was soon to be a married woman—a duchess, of all things. Even though she should not take her focus off the Incident, it was probably her only chance to attend a masquerade ball. But she had to be careful.

“Thank you for including me. I’d love to get to know you better and attend the masquerade ball. I’m more than happy to avoid the black door and leave the spots open for the rest of you. I have enough scandal I’m fighting at the moment.”

Beatrice answered first, “That’s very kind of you.” She paused. “I may need Eleanor to get me through that door.”

Bridget spoke next, “I’ll stay at the main masquerade ball with Charlotte. I don’t think I have use of the black door either.” She seemed as if she was reassuring Charlotte just as much as herself.

Eleanor clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! What fun we’ll have!

The theme is ancient Greece. I’ve already put together costumes for Beatrice and Bridget.

I can make an outfit for you in no time.

” Eleanor looked at Charlotte in an assessing manner, mentally making measurements.

“Do you have a choice of Greek goddess?”

Charlotte responded with the first one that came to mind. “Persephone.”

Eleanor’s brows furrowed. “That’s a bit depressing, don’t you think?”

“I’m being forced into a certain life against my will, just as Persephone was thrust into the Underworld. I think it’s an entirely appropriate choice,” Charlotte replied dryly.

A worried look crossed Eleanor’s face. “I see. I am sorry, Charlotte. I’ll make you look like the most beautiful Queen of the Underworld,” she offered.

“Thank you. I look forward to it.” Charlotte lifted the corners of her mouth in an attempt at a smile, trying to ease the tension she had caused in the room.

Beatrice moved the conversation forward. “Eleanor’s grandmother will chaperone the group to make it as proper as possible. Unless you would like Lady Hardwicke to come along.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Definitely not, but I appreciate the thought. If my aunt got wind of me attending this ball while being courted by the Duke of Westcliffe, she wouldn’t be pleased.”

Bridget shrugged her shoulders. “She may understand. I think it’s a rite of passage before being married off.

My mother asked outright if I was going to be sneaking off to attend, knowing that it always occurred around the same date.

When I told her I was considering it, a glazed look came over her face as she remembered her time at the Stanhope Ball while she was a debutante. ”

The ladies then chitchatted about their costumes for the ball and some Society gossip before the trio said their goodbyes.

The moment the bedroom door closed, Charlotte hastily opened the letter from James. Her stomach dropped after she read the four words printed in his masculine scrawl.

Same time, same place.

Charlotte penned a response without a second thought.

Yes.

She summoned Bailey to deliver her note to Bridget before she left her aunt’s home. Although Charlotte’s emotions roiled inside her, she knew she had to see the Captain. She could not get him out of her mind, and she needed some sort of closure before she married the Duke.

She hoped this rendezvous would be enough.