A short time later, Lucien led Anne out for the first dance... a traditional, and popular, Scottish reel. He did encounter a few disapproving looks which he met with challenge, but most of his fellow guests behaved as though they didn’t know of the previous night's events or didn’t consider it shocking enough to comment upon. His aunt had not erred about the privilege of his title.
The set ended and Lucien led Anne back to her mother who visited with his great aunt and Lady Jersey. "Be ready to be humble," he said in an undertone. "But do not grovel," he added when her arm stiffened against his. "We are Caldwells, after all."
She glanced up in obvious surprise at his encouragement and her arm relaxed. "Yes," she agreed with a pleased smile. "We are."
Having made his public statement of support, Lucien intended to remain on the sidelines until he needed to again present a united front and learn the new style. He went in search of the card room.
"THE GENTLEMAN PLACES his right hand–so." The dancing master set his hand alongside Cassandra Sinclair's waist. A lean faced man of average height and precise dress, the master shifted his partner around so that everyone could see both the placement and the distance of their positions.
Charlotte watched his demonstration, well aware that the guests had all been warned of this... and those who did not approve had left the ballroom before the supper dance. The room was still crowded, however, and she suspected the waltz would be performed at a few more private balls during the remainder of the Season.
"The lady places her left hand upon the gentleman's shoulder–so."
He lifted Cassandra's gloved hand to his shoulder, keeping several inches of space between them as he joined their opposite hands to finish the pose. "When the music begins, the gentleman steps forward with his right foot to lead his partner to the measured count. One, two, three... one, two, three.” He demonstrated the three-quarter time steps slowly, working the steps so that they turned in a circular motion. Then he nodded to the quartet, who began a waltz tune. He and Lady Cassandra began circulating the dance floor with the dance master calling out the time and further instructions as they moved.
Around the room, the guests stood in clusters, some whispering together, others visibly attempting to memorize the dance master's movements. The demonstration complete, Lord and Lady Sinclair stepped onto the dance floor and invited any who wished to try the steps to join in. Lord Chalmers led Lady Jane out, then Lady Millicent took her place with Lord Bascomb. Lord Norcross asked Elizabeth, and she saw Lady Ridley accept Lord Wentworth.
"Miss Longborough, would you care to try the steps?"
Charlotte looked up to meet Lucien's blue gaze and heat rose from deep inside. "I believe I would, Your Grace."
Lucien placed his hand on her waist and Charlotte felt the warmth of it from head to toe. When she placed her hand on his muscled shoulder she wondered if she would burst into flame. Certainly, her cheeks burned, and she had to consciously control her breathless reaction. She worried everyone must see her heart pound when Lucien took her hand in his. In the moment while they waited for the music to begin, she peered up into Lucien's face and saw that he was well aware of her nervousness.
"Courage, Miss Longborough," he chided her, “Aunt Ridley assures me that dukes are impervious to the opinions of others, so should we make a misstep no one would dare comment."
He surprised her with a teasing grin with those enticing dimples that stole her breath when the musicians struck up the same waltz they'd played during the demonstration. Lucien stepped forward in time with the music and Charlotte discovered that the face-to-face proximity made following his lead a matter of instinct. It also made her incredibly aware of how wonderfully exciting a man’s embrace could be and wished the proscribed twelve-inch separation emphasized by the dancing master earlier did not apply. And that they were somewhere other than a crowded ballroom.
That notion made her face flame a deeper crimson. Unsure where to focus her attention, Charlotte let her gaze stray from Lucien's cravat to his strong jaw, then higher to his lips. Her own felt dry and she licked them. When she did, Lucien's hand at her waist tightened and she looked up to find his eyes blazing into hers.
"I predict," he murmured, "That the ladies of Almack's will be forced to accept this style of dance soon." His lips quirked and Charlotte's nerves jumped again. "Its appeal is undeniably clear."
Charlotte could not look away from his heated gaze and didn’t object when his hand at her waist tightened slightly, moving them another inch closer. "It will certainly guarantee to bring many more bachelors to the dance floor."
She blinked in surprise. Oh, my goodness, he sounds like a rake. His hand tightened a bit more and now she couldn’t pretend not to notice how much more familiar his embrace had become. "And should they forget to maintain the proper distance while dancing,” Charlotte responded with a teasing grin, “to the alter, as well."
Charlotte bit her lip and regretted her comment immediately when he eased his hold on her waist with a rueful smile and broke eye contact to survey the other dancers before returning his gaze to hers. "The dance tempts, to be sure, and I suspect you are correct that the dance may encourage some gentlemen to make offers a bit sooner than they might have otherwise. From Chalmers' captivated expression I believe we shall soon be wishing Miss Pomphrey happy."
Charlotte turned her head toward the couple who danced nearby. Jane's eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed soft pink... and the distance between them had also narrowed–to mere inches. Lord Chalmers said something near Jane's ear and her cheeks flushed to a deeper hue and Jane laughed as she nodded in response.
Watching the intimate looks that passed between them made the change in Lucien's hold following her flippant comment all the more disappointing. It had broken the intense awareness the dance sparked and caused him to assume his usual proper public demeanor.
LUCIEN STROVE TO BRING himself back into control. When Charlotte had licked her lips, his whole body had tightened, and he'd pulled her closer without thought. Fortunately, his glance around the room showed all the others focused on their own steps and no one had noticed his momentary loss of public awareness.
He hadn’t questioned his decision to ask Charlotte to be his partner in the new dance, but now wondered if he should have chosen Charlotte’s sister instead. He liked the elder sister well enough, but her presence didn’t tempt him to pull her tighter, to breathe in her scent, or suggest that she meet him in the library after everyone else retired for the night. Now that was an action that would deliver him to the alter as soon as the banns could be read. He glanced down at Charlotte and another shaft of desire hit him. Or as soon as a special license could be purchased.
When this dance was done, he had best avoid future waltzes. At least with Miss Charlotte Longborough. Just because his forefathers had succeeded in suppressing the less savory aspects of their lives did not mean he intended to test his ability to do so. Much as he sympathized with the distress her family's reputation caused Charlotte, he didn’t need to make it part of his own. However, he wouldn’t permit dishonorable men to take advantage of her either.
The music ended and the chatter around them rose in volume as everyone shared their thoughts on the experiment. The ladies of Almack's had left before supper, but there could be no doubt that the popularly of the new style would demand they eventually allow the dance to enter their assembly room.
He bowed over Charlotte's hand and thanked her for the dance, then led her to his stepmother's side. Once there, he explained that he would be going on to his club with Ravencliffe once the ladies were on their way home in the family carriage. He had no real desire to go to his club but needed time to regain his equilibrium– and riding in the coach with one Charlotte Longborough would not allow that.
CHARLOTTE WATCHED LUCIEN take his leave with both regret and relief. Her pulse still raced with the thrill of his embrace and the intoxicating excitement that he had held her closer than defined by the dancing master.
Before her foolish words about matrimony, his eyes had held that hot intensity she'd seen in the dim candlelight in the library. He’d wanted to kiss her again, she was sure of it, and she’d wanted him to. Desire had filled the air around them as they moved across the dance floor twirling to the measured cadence of the waltz.
When he announced he would be going on to his club after sending them home, cold reality chilled Charlotte’s heart. Other than when they were alone together, the duke treated her with distant civility and sometimes amused tolerance. His interest was nothing more than the needs people spoke of. She mustn’t look upon this attraction they had for one another as anything more than proof that men's needs had little to do with caring and everything to do with the acts described in naughty books. She reminded herself that Anne had once declared her obligation to make a suitable match was compounded by her brother's determination not to marry until both she and Rowena were settled.
Charlotte couldn’t wait that long no matter how much her heart pounded when he was near. Was the reason she hadn’t reacted to anyone else the same way was because he'd been the first to kiss her? Focused on him, had she ignored the chance that another gentleman might make her feel equally wonderful? Perhaps she needed to experiment to see if her reaction to the duke’s kiss was no more than female need.
CHAPTER 18
Lucien had just ordered a second brandy at White’s when Clarehaven took a seat beside him. "I hope your participation in Lady Sinclair's experiment this evening means I am forgiven for upsetting tradition last night." He signaled his order for a brandy as well, then grinned. "I suspect the continental waltz will be performed throughout London this Season—except at Almack's."
"I should have called you out for exposing my sister to possible scandal, Clarehaven." Lucien glared at his companion. "Though you made that impossible by apologizing so publicly."
"Of course I did." Clarehaven agreed. "I’m not out to debauch your sister, charming as she may be. She is not my quarry, nor am I hers." The footman arrived with their brandies and he took a sip before telling Lucien, "I know it isn’t gentlemanly to tell you, but you should know it was her idea to challenge convention."
Lucien sat up. "The devil you say."
"I only tell you this because you’ll need to be alert to any other plans she might hatch to– and I quote her here—‘keep the Season interesting'."
"You say she has someone in mind?" Lucien searched his memory for any male to whom he'd missed when they swarmed around his sister. He’d swear he’d seen no hint of special interest on her side, though it was clear several young men vied for her attention with hopeful intent.
"I believe she may be matchmaking for someone other than for herself," he clarified, "She only approached me to assist her because she believed I was audacious enough to do it and would be able to get away with it." He chuckled, and Lucien ground his teeth to discover how devious his little sister had become.
"If her target was Chalmers, he didn’t need last night's encouragement," Lucien mused. "He's had time for no one but the Pomphrey chit since he laid eyes on her.” He frowned. “You’re sure she gave no hint about whose match she’s attempting to secure?"
"None. But, so long as it’s not me, I care not. I enjoy my freedom far too much. I’ll leave it to my brother and his offspring to carry on the line. His heiress bride will keep them well coffered until my demise." He tossed back the last of his drink and stood. "As it is, I have a late-night visit to pay to a lonely widow at the moment."
As Lucien watched Clarehaven accept his hat and cloak from the footman and quit the club he wondered if he should find a willing widow as well. His deficiency of control around Charlotte Longborough made him acutely aware of how much he regretted his lack of a mistress.
WHEN JANE'S NOTE ARRIVED the next day, no one was surprised at the news that Lord Chalmers had called on her father that morning and that Jane had accepted his offer. Nothing would do but that they pay her a morning call to congratulate her. When shown into the Pomphrey parlor an hour later, Charlotte was pleased to see Jane had lost all her reserve and positively glowed with happiness.
"The first banns will be called on Sunday and Papa has sent word to our home Parrish to do the same," Jane told them. "St. George’s is elegant and popular, I know, but–” She lowered her eyes, and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, “I prefer a more intimate setting. We’ll be married in the country and remain there for our honeymoon. The Chalmers estate is but ten miles from ours."
"That doesn't mean, however,” Lady Pomphrey said with all the determination of one of the king's own guard, “that it will be any less of an occasion. We shall be inviting our friends from the city and provide accommodation and entertainment in the days before and after the nuptials."
"We don’t wish to wait until the end of the Season,” Jane blushed brighter and gave them a laughing glance, "but Mama insists that I have a full trousseau and a proper betrothal ball... and even a country wedding takes time to arrange."
Charlotte recalled how Lord Chalmers had whispered into Jane's ear the night before and envy filled her. Jane, who had begun the Season with dutiful resolve, and the least hope of a love match, was not only the first of them to accept an offer but had done so for love rather than duty. Lord Chalmers matched Jane's character– straightforward, thoughtful, yet not somber or rigid. He was solid—and he loved her. Theirs would be a happy union.
The first day Charlotte met her, Jane had posed the challenge to look around the ballrooms and observe the married couples of the ton, and Charlotte had. Without quite realizing it, she had noted which ladies appeared content, which ones seemed bored or restless, and which ones gave subtle clues that they were trapped in unhappy circumstances. Like Lady Dalton. Her experiences with Lord Dalton as a child had certainly made Charlotte aware that character, not appearances, counted most in harmonious relationships.
She had compared the ladies with their husbands. Those who were content had partnered with men with whom they shared affection and interests, though some of those shared interests were simply the children they raised. Those whose wives appeared bored or restless were those who had most clearly married for mutual social or financial status but without affection or any other shared interest. The resulting marriages clearly involved nothing more than a contracted joining of man and woman. Their children often were cared for by others while the parents attended social functions and engaged in flirtations, she assumed went further than the ballroom. Each fulfilled their contractual obligations and nothing more.
Seeing Jane's joy made Charlotte's eyes sting with unshed tears. How silly of her to have come to town with lists of titled gentlemen as though that was all it took to make a good match. Marriage was not a game. Nor was it a guaranteed shelter from gossip or unhappiness. If a husband and wife did not respect and love one another life would be emptier than spinsterhood.
Unfortunately, of all the men she had met thus far, only the duke attracted her. She admired his sense of family pride and responsibility. The droll sense of humor he sometimes revealed charmed her. She enjoyed his kisses. But while he found her physically attractive and occasionally entertaining, he did not respect or admire her. He saw her as a country miss with no understanding of the world and less sense than Harry. She merited acceptance to his circle only after investigation. Charlotte blinked to relieve the sting and refocus on the happy scene around her. Self-pity had no place here, and she was happy for Jane.
By the time they took their leave, Charlotte and her sister had agreed to accompany Jane and her mother to the modiste the next afternoon when she ordered Jane's wedding trousseau.
MADAME FOCHET BEAMED at them all when Lady Pomphrey announced their desire to see trousseau patterns. In addition to Anne, the duchess, Elizabeth and Charlotte, Millicent and Cassandra and their mothers had joined in the fun.
"Soon each of you will be making choices, as well," the modiste stated with a chuckle. "Once the first match is announced a flurry of ot
hers follow. Always it is this way." She gave a signal to one of the serving girls as she led them into the private parlor where pattern books filled the shelves and comfortable chairs surrounded a rosewood table.
A maid gathered a collection of pattern books while another appeared with a tea tray. "I have recently received a shipment of particularly fine silks,” Madame Fochet told them as she opened one of the books and placed it in front of Jane and her mother, "So fine it fairly floats on the air." She eyed Jane's red hair and fair complexion. "The coral was quite stunning on you, but for a wedding... something more subtle.” She stood silent for a moment, then murmured, "Blue is over-used for special occasions and green is too commonly worn with red hair—Something in between?" She gave a brisk nod, then snapped her fingers at one of the maids. "Molly, fetch the shot-silk teal with the silver warp threading.” Her eyes gleamed as she added, “And the blue-violet shantung."
Word spread through the shop that Lady Jane had come to order her wedding trousseau. Soon Jane received good wishes from many of their acquaintances among them, Lady Ridley. Several of them lingered, adding their suggestions and opinions until the private room was more crowded than the main salon.
"I am glad to see that Lord Chalmers has not tarried in his duty to secure a wife and, soon to be hoped, heir." Lady Ridley said with satisfaction. To the duchess she said, “Wolverton is still dragging his heels, I notice."
"You know he believes Rowena must be wed before he takes a wife." Anne spoke up. She nodded to her mother and added, "And Mama tells me we must not tease him about how much older he will be than his bride by then."
"Wolverton is far more amenable when he believes he is acting on his own initiative rather than at the interference of myself or his sisters." Duchess Wolverton explained. "His father was much the same."
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