Page 4 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)
CHAPTER FOUR
J ames could not look at Lady Charlotte.
If his eyes caught her profile for more than a few moments, his mind wandered.
The beginning of their waltz was relatively innocent.
What would her delectable lips taste like?
Would it be like her scent, innocent yet seductive?
But as the dance went on, his mind traveled down a darker and more erotic path.
Just a glimpse of her elegant neck prompted him to picture her in the throes of passion with her head flung back while he rutted her endlessly.
I need to bed a proper whore , James convinced himself.
He had been near celibate for too long. He had avoided the doxies at the many ports of call during the war, worried about contracting the pox.
Now that he was in London and had coin to spare, he could rid himself of this pent-up sexual frustration at a fashionable establishment.
“What’s the question?” James never missed a word of any conversation. Yet, today, on more than one occasion he was asking others to repeat themselves.
He could only blame women.
First, it was the unidentified woman who had disrupted his life and forced him to London. Currently, it was the bold and alluring daughter of the Earl of Pulverbatch.
“Are you a captain?”
“Yes,” James answered, without divulging any more information.
How many questions had that been? Four? Five?
He had lost count, but he knew he could not give her anything else.
The questions would only become more personal, and he was already starting to feel restless.
He thankfully detected the closing notes of the waltz.
It was time to go.
“It has been an honor, Lady Charlotte, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.” Captain Silverstone bowed and turned abruptly, before being swallowed by the crowd.
Charlotte stood dumfounded. Had she said something to scare him away?
She let out a huff of breath. The dratted man had left before their wager ended. It was quite unsportsmanlike of him. She would not hold back in reprimanding the cheater, ladylike or not. But first she had to see him again, and there was no guarantee that their paths would cross.
The musicians began the opening notes of the next dance, and she realized she was still standing on the dance floor, appearing thoroughly unsettled. She hurried to the side of the ballroom and stationed herself near the windows. She needed to compose herself.
A glance at her card revealed a baronet’s name written beside the next dance.
Her partner was only a baronet? Perfect, a dance she could skip.
Although the baronet must be powerful or wealthy for her aunt to allow him to partner with Charlotte.
But it did not matter. She needed the utmost protection from the Incident, and that meant getting to the top of the social hierarchy, where the law could not touch her.
The best safeguard would be to wed a duke.
Preferably a duke who was not old enough to be her father…
or her grandfather. But she may not have that option. How many unwed dukes could there be?
Charlotte crept along the periphery of the ballroom with her back to the towering arched windows and her eyes trained on the goings-on of the guests.
She would eventually reach a door to the gardens if she continued her current path.
Her feet shuffled along the wall of windows while she tried to blend into the background.
What a foolish thought. As if anyone in this ballroom besides her aunt would even notice her.
Speak of the devil.
Aunt Frances and another woman walked arm in arm near the door that was Charlotte’s means of an escape from the ballroom.
Her aunt always seemed to know everything that was happening, and her sudden appearance further cemented her omnipotence.
Charlotte sprang away from the wall and walked straight into the group of onlookers watching the couples glide across the dance floor.
There had to be another way for her to find a moment of peace.
After what felt like ages of weaving through the throng of people, she was able to duck out of the ballroom into a doorway.
She found herself in an adjacent room, but guests spilled over into the space and clustered in boisterous groups.
She walked past them with her head down and continued onward until the din of the music faded.
She entered the next room, confident that she had found a place to relax, but she was sorely mistaken.
It was the ladies’ retiring room .
Charlotte paused in the doorway, weighing her options. Return to the stifling ballroom and her aunt, or immerse herself in a gaggle of ladies gossiping and fixing their hems? She chose the latter as the lesser of two evils.
She took a few hesitant steps forward, not wanting to agitate the bank of swans before her. Fortunately, the birds in the room barely glanced at her, too busy preening and worrying about their own appearances to take note. She collapsed onto a settee and closed her eyes for a moment.
She missed home.
High Crest Hall had rolling hills, clear skies, and the scent of nature, not masses of people, smoky air, and a persistent reek. Charlotte could not wallow in self-pity though. She was in London, and she had to save herself. She let out a sigh and raised her eyelids.
Two pairs of eyes, one emerald and one blue, stared back at her from the opposite settee.
“You must be Lady Charlotte, the Marchioness of Hardwicke’s niece,” a poised and striking woman with dark-brown hair and green eyes stated matter-of-factly.
“I am…” Charlotte mumbled. Her attention darted between the woman who had just spoken and her partner, a woman whose light-blonde hair and delicate features epitomized archetypal English beauty.
The second woman’s blue eyes, lighter than her own, ran over Charlotte’s figure in an assessing manner.
She caught Charlotte’s gaze and leaned back, giving her a lazy grin.
“We’re absolutely delighted to finally meet you.
Your aunt has talked much about your debut. ”
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know either of you,” Charlotte ventured, wondering if these women were friend or foe. They were a part of the ton , so Charlotte’s first instinct was to label them as enemies.
The dark-haired woman sat with perfectly straight posture and replied in a well-modulated voice, “How rude of us. I’m Beatrice Walford…my father is the Marquess of Derby, and this is Eleanor Balfour, daughter of the Earl of Downham.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Charlotte responded hesitantly, still unsure as to the direction of the conversation.
Eleanor took the reins. “We feel like we already know you. My older brother, Jasper, is close with Arthur. Your brother has spoken much about you. You seem most unconventional and the opposite of what your aunt has been telling anyone who would listen. We couldn’t wait to meet you in person and figure you out ourselves. ”
If Eleanor knew Arthur, this pair of women had to be friends, not foes.
Arthur was everything to Charlotte. He was the only one in her family who truly understood her, and when he went off to Eton, Charlotte had immediately felt the void.
Her forced trip to London to find a titled husband would have felt like a death sentence, aside from the fact she would be able to see her beloved brother.
He was the only bright spot in this dismal affair, even if he was always busy with Parliamentary work.
Charlotte’s face relaxed. “I’m very close with Arthur, so I would trust what he told you.”
Eleanor smiled back. “I don’t mean to be so forward, but he seemed surprised that you were coming to London.
He didn’t think you wished to marry, though your aunt has indicated otherwise.
Beatrice and I have no desire for our lives to be dictated by a husband or by all those awful rules we must follow, so we thought we had found another lady of the same mindset. ”
“My aunt made me memorize all of Debrett’s though I admit, I’ve purposefully forgotten as much as I can,” Charlotte said.
The two other women chuckled then Beatrice added, “I’m glad I still don’t have a governess to rap my knuckles or worse for not knowing every ounce of information in that terrible book.”
Charlotte smiled at the women and tried to determine what she could reveal.
Although she had just met these two women, she felt an instant connection with them and their forthrightness after she realized they were all on the same side.
Yet, trusting too easily had been the downfall of many.
“I truly don’t want to marry, but a certain situation has forced me to reconsider. ”
She saw both ladies’ eyes narrow. The words tumbled out of her mouth, “I’m not in the family way or ruined in that sense.”
Beatrice looked back at her and firmly responded, “Even if you were, we would not judge. We all have our scandalous secrets, and nothing in the ton stays hidden for long. The only safeguard is to keep it to yourself or rid yourself of anyone who would tattle.”
Charlotte swallowed.
Little did they know that was exactly what she had done.
Charlotte’s conversation with the two ladies was halted by her aunt marching into the ladies’ retiring room.
Aunt Frances loomed over her. “Charlotte, His Grace has arrived. What have you been doing?”
She lifted her chin defiantly, momentarily forgetting her life depended on the aid of her aunt in finding a powerful husband. She quickly recovered. “I was freshening up to prepare myself for the Duke.”
“Come along.” Her aunt grabbed Charlotte’s arm and yanked her up from the settee. She rolled her eyes toward her new friends before her aunt dragged her out of the room.