An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 21.1. A Gentleman With Gutter Instincts

   When Charlotte emerged from the room, she found that the receiving hall was still crowded with guests who did not care to dance, chatting over a glass of lemonade. The band was just beginning another set, but the last thing she felt like was whirling around after what she and Benedic had just done. She felt light-headed enough as it was. She wanted to be alone, to ponder what was happening between them, to steady herself. To be ready in case he needed her help to finish this thing with his uncle.

   Perhaps she should have been more concerned over the loss of her virtue and her fallen status. She wasn't. What was gone was gone. She simply wanted to sit quietly for a while and relive every decadent detail before she began worrying about what would happen to him. Would tonight be the night he would happen to him. Would tonight be the night he would finally confront Sir Edward? What was he going to do if Edward did indeed have an ally waiting in the wings? What if he and Aleister failed? Her throat closed at the thought.

   "Well," one young woman murmured, bumping into Charlotte's back, "my mama says that if the Strathmere Ghost has his way, there won't be a virtuous lady left in the village."

   Charlotte released a wistful sigh and adjusted her wings back over her shoulders. If she had her way, Benedic's haunting days would soon be over forever, and his vices would be reserved for one woman alone.

   "I do not believe there is a ghost at all," a disgruntled gentleman said in a loud voice. "I think the whole thing is nothing but female hysterics. What is your opinion, Lady Charlotte?"

   Charlotte glanced around at his unfamiliar florid face. She didn't even know his name; he was one of James's cohorts, which reminded her that she hadn't danced with Justin all night. He had completely ignored her. Not that she minded. In fact, she hadn't even thought of it until—

   "Ah, so there you are, Charlotte." She looked up to see her uncle elbowing his way from the refreshment room. " I wondered where you had gone."

   "I was here," she said vaguely, glancing past him.

   "Here?"

   "Well." Oh, she hated being deceitful. "I thought to fetch my fan. Silly me. I had it on my wrist all along."

   His gentle eyes looked thoughtfully. "Silly you."

   "Yes." Her pulse began to pound. "Silly me."

   "Has your Lady Crowbridge had any more luck laying our naughty ghost?" a guest asked with a grin from behind the older man.

   Sir Humphrey turned away from Charlotte to answer, and she felt a profound if temporary sense of relief. He might have suspected something was off in her reply, but he wasn't going to press her. Charlotte was thankful for that. She despised lying to one who had been as kind to her as her uncle.

   He placed his hand on her arm. "Let me get you a glass of lemonade, Charlotte. You look a little flushed."

   Lord. If only he knew why. He wasn't that kind as to accept what she and Benedic had been doing. She would rather die than to distress him, to disappoint her one champion in the house.

   "Lemonade would be perfect, Uncle—"

   She stopped cold. She had just noticed Sir Edward Winslow's emerging from the cloakroom, elegant in black evening dress and a flawlessly white linen neckcloth. Obviously no one had informed him this was to be a masquerade ball, or he considered himself too dignified to appear in costume. But then, Charlotte thought, his entire personality was a facade. A heartless killer disguised as a knight of the realm, a gentleman with gutter instinct.

   She watched Sir Edward glance around the hallway, studying each masked guest in turn. Her heart pounded erratically against her ribs. Had he discovered that Benedic was alive? That he was here tonight? Or was his mysterious friend in attendance? It did not seem likely that Edward would do his secret dealings in a place like. If he made a move toward the room where she had left Benedic, should she try to waylay him?

   She felt her uncle's hand tighten around her arm. Puzzled, she glanced up at his face.

   "Let us get that lemonade, Charlotte," he said quietly.

   She nodded, looking around to see Sir Edward disappear into the ballroom. A lean cloaked figure in the corner caught her attention, and she felt a wave of heat engulf her as she realized Aleister had resumed the charade. He looked directly at her, gave a barely perceptible nod, then smiled down warmly at the cluster of chattering women surrounding him.

   Was that nod Aleister's subtle way of telling her that Benedic had safely hidden himself? Yes. Aleister must have seen Sir Edward, too. He would not be standing there flirting so outrageously with all those females if he feared for his friend's welfare.

   She could only pray that the rest of Benedic's plans went as well.

   She turned back to her uncle. "Lemonade, yes, that's just what we need."

   He stared at her for a few seconds before guiding her to the refreshment room. "It's good to see you happy again, Charlotte. We've all been worried about you this past week or so. This dance appears to have done you a world of good."