Page 35 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining (London Ladies’ League #2)

CHAPTER 35

S imon used every opportunity to flirt with Charlotte during their dance around the maypole. He purposely brushed his fingers against hers as they passed each other under loops of the vibrant ribbons. He winked, smiled, and delivered sultry gazes, promising every carnal delight he could imagine—and make no mistake, he imagined quite a few.

However, when the dance ended, he noticed more than Charlotte’s darkened cheeks and lust-filled eyes. Hester speared a glare at Charlotte as if she wanted to wrap her hands around his wife’s neck as tightly as the ribbons around said maypole.

Make that two people for them to avoid the remainder of the day.

They’d done a jolly good job of it, enjoying the festivities and each other. He couldn’t remember when Charlotte had smiled and laughed as much as she had that day. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again, to see that smile—that dimple—forming for him alone.

When the dancing commenced in the assembly room, he bowed before her. “May I have the honor of this dance? ”

“Men don’t usually dance with their wives.” She gave her fan a little snap, spreading the pleats apart and displaying a pastoral scene, and her brown eyes teasing above it.

“I think we’ve established I’m not one to follow the rules. Remember Drake’s house party?”

Her laugh, low and throaty, heated his blood. “How could I forget?”

“Besides, this isn’t a formal London ball of the ton . This is a country dance, with simple country folk who couldn’t care less about rules of etiquette.”

With another snap of her wrist, the fan closed. “Very well. They’re your toes.”

God, he loved her. “It’s a small price to pay for holding you in my arms.” He meant every word. If loving Charlotte meant enduring moments of pain to experience monumental joy, he would do so willingly.

“It’s a country dance. There will be no holding .”

“Then you must promise me the waltz as recompense for my sacrifice.”

As she slipped her gloved fingers into his offered hand, she said, “You drive a hard bargain, sir.”

And although touching her was limited to brief brushes of fingers, his toes remained surprisingly unscathed during the dance. Only at the final moment, when they faced each other to bow and curtsy, did she extend her slipper and press lightly on his foot.

When he led her from the dancefloor, she whispered, “Lest it be said I don’t fulfill my promises.”

Although the musicians weren’t as skilled as those at London balls, nor the dancers as graceful, Simon wouldn’t exchange his time with Charlotte at the simple country gathering for a thousand ton balls. His heart swelled with pride as man after man approached and practically begged for a chance to dance with her .

At first, he worried she would insult them with her sharp tongue, but she accepted each offer gracefully, smiling prettily even when she winced at her own stomped toes.

“You’ve done well, Son,” his mother said, slipping beside him. “Charlotte has won over the whole town.”

“Not the whole town.” Simon tipped his head toward Hester. “I don’t trust her, Mother. She has something up her sleeve.”

His mother’s eyes widened. “Charlotte or Hester?”

“Hester. I trust Charlotte with my life.” Not mere words, the truth of them filled his whole body with light. He did trust her.

“Have you told her?”

Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze from Charlotte and turned toward his mother. “What? That I trust her?” He shook his head.

“No. That you love her. You forget I read that gossip rag. I know you married Charlotte out of a sense of duty. When did you discover you love her?”

He wouldn’t break Charlotte’s trust and tell his mother about Charlotte’s fear of thunderstorms, but it was a valid question. “I would say it hit me like a lightning bolt, but I don’t think that’s precisely right. I think I fell little by little until I couldn’t escape the truth. It’s a sneaky bugger thing this love bit. I’d almost say insidious.”

His mother slapped her fan on his arm. “Surely not! Love isn’t harmful.”

“Isn’t it?” His gaze drifted to Samuel. Tucked in a dark corner, the baker stared holes into Simon. “Do you forget Joy?”

“Joy was a child. You both were.”

“She loved me and ended up dead.”

Compassion shone in his mother’s eyes. “Joy was a troubled girl.”

The room became stifling at the memory of Joy’s lifeless face, and he struggled to breathe. “I’m going outside.” He squeezed his mother’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” He winked. “And I do plan to tell Charlotte this evening. ”

Carefully weaving his way from the crowded assembly hall, Simon finally reached the door, only to bump into Albie Mooney as the man stumbled against him.

“Watch where yer goin’,” Mooney grumbled, his words slurred.

“You reek of whisky, Mooney. Go home and sleep it off before you get locked up again.”

Mooney delivered an obscene gesture, then proceeded inside on shaking legs.

Simon shook his head in disgust. Three people to avoid. The list continued to grow, but he refused to have it spoil the evening.

Once outside, he pulled in great lungfuls of the crisp May air, reviving his spirits and clearing his mind.

To say Charlotte wasn’t Joy was a gross understatement. And besides, he was the one in love, not Charlotte. If anyone would suffer harm, it would be him. And although that prospect was less than appealing, it wasn’t as horrific as he would have thought mere weeks ago. Oh, certainly it would pain him for Charlotte not to return his love. Not something he would either look forward to or relish.

But Charlotte was his wife, bound to him by law, and if Simon was anything, he was optimistic. Charlotte may not love him yet, but he would wear down her resistance until she had no other choice but to succumb.

Drake was right about one thing. Simon loved a challenge.

With renewed hope bubbling inside, he gazed up at the moon. Soft beams of light drew long shadows. Footsteps crunched against the pebble walk, and a woman’s shadow loomed from behind him. Hands pressed against his eyes.

A smile stretched across his lips as he remembered performing the same action on his beautiful wife the day before. The minx . But before he could turn and pull her into his arms, he tensed.

The fragrance was all wrong.

Breathless from the lively country dance, Charlotte hurried back to find Simon.

Where is he?

She scanned the room, searching the couples pairing for the next set. Her brows drew down.

“He stepped outside.”

Charlotte spun around toward Judith’s voice, a smile replacing the frown. Of course he did. “Restless again?”

Judith laughed. “You know him well. But I think perhaps it was another reason this time. Hurry, and you should catch him.” She gave Charlotte a little push toward the exit.

Stepping outside, Charlotte rubbed her hands on her arms. The night air cooled her skin, overheated from the crowded assembly room. Stars sparkled in the sky, and the moon, not yet full, shed the perfect amount of light and shadows for clandestine lovers.

A thrill trickled up her spine at the thought of surprising Simon and stealing a kiss or two—or more.

Movement ahead caught her attention, but something seemed off. She narrowed her eyes as they adjusted in the moonlight.

“Someone will see us,” a man’s voice said.

Charlotte froze. Not any man. Simon. A chill having nothing to do with the night air raced through her veins. The shadowy figures took shape, the unmistakable flow of a skirt outlining someone much shorter than the one of Charlotte’s husband.

“Let them,” the woman’s voice answered.

Careful to tread lightly, Charlotte crept forward, catching the movement of the woman’s hand caressing the man’s arm.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Charlotte said, tamping down the ache in her heart and keeping her voice nonchalant. She refused to give Simon the satisfaction of knowing his actions upset her .

Simon practically threw the woman off of him.

Hester Pace.

Charlotte should have known.

“Charlotte! This is not what it appears to be.”

“Oh?” Charlotte said, the ache in her chest near unbearable. If loving someone meant enduring such pain, she’d been wise to avoid it so long. No wonder Simon wanted no part of it. Was it too late for her, or was she doomed to live in misery because she allowed him to sneak into her heart? “What might that be then, Husband ?” She laced as much vitriol in the address as she could muster.

Hands extended in supplication, Simon stepped forward. “Charlotte.”

She held a palm up to stop him. “Stay back.” She couldn’t think straight if he was near her, and if any situation called for a clear head, it was the current one. Unable to keep the hurt from her voice any longer, the next words leaked out of her like a cry. “You promised .”

“Nothing happened. I’m innocent,” Simon’s voice pleaded.

“Ha!” Hester gave a malicious laugh. “Your wife seems an intelligent woman. Sometimes things are exactly as they appear. Might as well confess, Simon, love.”

Simon spun on Hester. “Don’t call me love. And don’t touch me again.” He brushed aside the arm Hester extended toward him, then turned back to Charlotte. “She’s lying.”

“Am I?” Hester’s answer sing-songed on the night air, and Charlotte caught the smirk playing on her lips. “Face it, dearie. Simon can’t resist a skirt, and he’ll whisper those sweet words of love to get what he wants. No doubt you believed he meant it when he said he loved you.”

Simon straightened, his eyes meeting Charlotte’s. “Charlotte?”

Hester’s words sank beneath Charlotte’s anger, cooling it. “ You are correct, Miss Pace,” Charlotte answered, the truth clear in her mind.

Simon’s face crumpled. “Charlotte, no.”

She held up a quelling hand. “Allow me to finish. True, Simon is far from innocent in most things, and he does love women. I appreciate that you’ve managed to cobble together enough sense to recognize my intelligence. However, I’m intelligent enough to know there are different types of love. I’ve seen the love Simon has for his mother and sisters, for our dear friend, the Duchess of Burwood, and even the compassionate love he has for women like you.”

Charlotte waited for Hester to digest her words, but the troublemaker continued to smirk. Clearly, the woman wasn’t as bright as Charlotte generously presumed.

Oh, but Simon! A different matter entirely. A broad grin—no longer ridiculous—broke across his face.

“Now. If you would kindly allow me a word in private with my husband.” Charlotte stretched out her arm, motioning for Hester to leave.

As Hester passed, the cloying scent of rosewater assaulting Charlotte’s nostrils, Charlotte leaned in and whispered. “Dig your claws into another man, Miss Pace. Leave my husband alone or you will answer to me. And please, save yourself some money on perfume. Dousing yourself with an entire bottle is both unnecessary and sickening.”

The troublemaking hussy stomped off in a huff.

Silence stretched between Charlotte and Simon like the night itself.

“Well?” Simon took one step toward her, and she didn’t try to stop him. “How did you know she was lying?”

Charlotte waved his question away as she would a pesky insect. “Simple. Although as I told her, there was some truth to her words. But you have never said you loved me, and I sincerely doubt you would say it just to get your way. ”

He took another step closer. “No, I wouldn’t. Especially with you. With you, I would mean it.”

Moonlight shimmered in his seductive eyes, mixed with something else. “May I?” He held his arms out by her waist, beckoning her in.

“Yes.” She slipped into his embrace, threading her hands through his hair. “Now, I would like a stolen kiss like the one Hester professed to have received.”

“Please don’t mention her name again, or I will have to do this.” He lowered his mouth to hers, capturing it with a kiss that sent bubbles through her from her head to the toes in her slippers.

When he pulled back to allow them both a breath, she whispered, “Hes?—”

His chuckle vibrated against her lips as he silenced her again, the kiss growing desperate.

“We should go back inside,” she said when they finally broke apart. But as she turned, he tugged her hand.

“Wait. I have something to tell you. It’s about what Hester said—sort of.”

The confidence he’d worn so easily moments ago seemed to melt away, leaving an unsure lad before her. Worry tightened like bands around her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Had she believed him too readily?

“What is it?” She wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

“But first, promise you’ll believe me.”

Oh, that wasn’t good. “I can’t promise you something before I know what it is.”

He ran a hand across the back of his neck and spun away from her. “Christ. Why is this so hard to say?” He nodded once, then turned around to face her.

“For goodness’ sake, Simon. Say it!”

Before Simon could force out whatever had him so upset, a carriage pulled up .

Charlotte squinted at the crest adorning the door of the fine vehicle, both announcing the occupant’s importance. She sucked in a breath, and her hand reached out for Simon’s, squeezing his fingers in a vise-like grip.

A liveried servant jumped down from his post behind the carriage, opened the door, and lowered the step.

And Edgerton descended.

Simon startled at Charlotte’s stricken expression, the death grip of her fingers crushing his. He turned to see what had captured her attention and cursed. “What the deuce is he doing here?”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.” Charlotte released his hand and strode forward.

“Wait!” Simon called. “Make him come to us.”

When she returned next to him, Simon wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and tugged her close. “A united front.”

She nodded, but her muscles were like granite against his palm.

Edgerton gazed around, his nose high in the air as if he were sniffing them out, the moment clear when his eyes finally locked on them.

Simon’s grip tightened around Charlotte’s waist. Ice crystalized in his veins at what she must have endured as that miserable wretch’s sister. He didn’t want to imagine. But he would protect her if it killed him.

Lord, but the thought of dying was even more distasteful now that he was in love. And he hadn’t even had the chance to tell her.

Damnation, Edgerton. The man’s timing was abominable.

Edgerton stood still, no doubt expecting them to come bowing and scraping in front of him. When it became clear in his repugnant mind that Charlotte would stand her ground, Edgerton slithered forward.

Moonlight at his back cast him in shadows like a specter, his expression indiscernible.

More the better .

Simon had no desire to experience his brother-in-law’s sinister gaze more than necessary. Yet that same moonlight illuminated both him and Charlotte.

“Smile,” he whispered from the corner of his mouth. “It will confuse him.”

Although Charlotte’s effort fell short of the easy smiles she’d graced him with most of the day, Simon was proud of her attempt.

It proved effective as Edgerton jerked to a halt.

“Edgerton!” Simon threw his free arm out in greeting. “So glad you could join us. Hasn’t Charlotte done a magnificent job organizing our celebration?”

Edgerton’s dark eyes bored into Simon, then, without further acknowledgement, turned his attention to Charlotte. “I’ve come to take you home. Surely, you’ve come to your senses and are finished with this nonsense .” He punctuated the last word with a glance toward Simon. “I’ll have your sham of a marriage annulled, and you can marry Lord Felix as planned.”

Simon’s warrior wife’s spine stiffened under his palm. “Under no circumstances will I marry Felix. I would rather die than be forced into such a marriage.”

Perhaps the darkness played tricks on Simon’s eyes, but he swore Edgerton’s shoulders slumped. More importantly, Charlotte’s words bounced off Edgerton and landed squarely in Simon’s chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

Did she really prefer death to being trapped into marriage?

“And yet, you were.” Delivered cooly, the icy truth of Edgerton’s statement drew Simon back, driving the painful words home .

He wanted to shout, That was different! But was it really? Oh, he would never strike Charlotte, but hadn’t he harmed her by taking away her choice—her control? If anyone would protest Edgerton’s accusation, it must come from Charlotte.

Thick, foul bile rose in his throat, the fear rising as seconds ticked by without Charlotte’s rebuttal when she stiffened before him.

She did feel trapped, helpless, like a trout caught on a lure and scooped unwillingly into a net. And if he loved her, he should release her to swim free.