This dance.
Charlotte.
She was graceful as she moved, though not with the exaggerated gestures many ladies made to draw attention to themselves. Her enjoyment was genuine, evident by the light in her eyes.
At last, the final notes of the music swelled to a halt. The couples bowed and curtsied to close the dance, and James offered Charlotte his arm. Not once had they been close enough to have a conversation. Now was his chance.
He glanced around the ballroom and noted a large column along one wall that would work perfectly to hide them from most of the other guests. He escorted her toward the column, pleased to see a tall potted plant along its side that would provide them an additional measure of privacy.
“What is your relationship with Viscount Palmer?” Though he wanted to order her never to see the man again, he had a suspicion that particular approach wouldn’t work. She wasn’t one of his men.
A blush rose in her cheeks as she lifted her chin. “What business is it of yours?”
“You are my friend’s sister. I do not want to see you hurt.” He had fond memories of the girl she used to be and a need to do what he could to keep her safe.
“I am ten and nine years of age, not some young girl who doesn't know any better. I can take care of myself.”
“I don't think you understand Palmer or men like him.”
Her blush deepened and a spark lit her eyes. “You are not related to me. In fact, we hardly know each other. Who I associate with is none of your concern.”
“Are you interested in him?” James clenched his fist. The very thought of a man with Palmer’s reputation touching Charlotte was more than he could bear.
“What?” Her whispered outrage reassured him more than a simple denial would have. “No. I am not. How dare you ask!”
“What am I to think when he accompanied you to that party?”
“Along with his sister. I was never alone with him.”
“Humph.” That wasn’t nearly good enough. “You should not see him again.”
“You do not have a say.” Charlotte shook her head. “While I’m sure you don’t care about the reason behind it, I intend to do my best to enjoy myself the next few months.” She glanced away. “I am to marry soon, and such opportunities will be lost.”
He frowned at her odd wording, ignoring the equally odd skip of his heart. “Who are you marrying?”
“I don’t yet know.”
“Then how can you possibly marry soon?”
“You will have to ask that of my father. There is little I can do about it except enjoy a few adventures while I can.”
“I appreciate the idea of enjoying yourself before you wed. However, doing so could be dangerous. Especially with a man like Palmer.” It could result in her landing in trouble or finding herself in a situation she couldn't talk her way out of. And if her father caught her, there would be hell to pay.
“You're making too much of this. I'm only trying to have a little fun. A few adventures.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “You and Edward are free to do as you please, but I am not. You do realize how unfair that is, don’t you?”
“Your wish to enjoy a few evenings isn’t what concerns me. Who you’re doing it with does.”
“I see. Will you take me instead?” The defiant look on her face suggested she expected him to refuse. “Would you dare to escort me on an adventure?”
“Dare?” It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. He had no intention of encouraging her in this scheme even if he sympathized with her plight. Yet the idea of her continuing to have Palmer as an escort was not to be had. “What sort of adventure are you planning next?” He couldn't believe he'd asked. What had come over him?
As her eyes held his, awareness seeped into him. Awareness that she was no longer the young girl from his memories. She was an attractive woman.
“I haven't quite decided,” she said. “But I would much prefer your company over Lord Palmer’s.”
“It would only be once.” He wanted to make it clear that this wouldn't be an ongoing situation. “After it is done, you agree to take greater care with your activities. No more outings with Palmer or anyone of his ilk.”
She smiled, revealing those charming dimples that grabbed his thoughts and scattered them willy-nilly. “I will finalize the details soon and share them when you next come to the house.”
Before he could think of a response she turned and eased back into the crowd, disappearing from sight. Only then did he realize she hadn't agreed to his request. Again.
~*~
The next morning Charlotte woke with a smile. She could hardly believe James had agreed to take her on an adventure. She needed to pick this one carefully. It needed to be something fun and that she wouldn’t have gone on otherwise.
She trusted him, though she couldn't say precisely why. As she’d told him, they didn't really know each other anymore. Her memories of him were clear as was the secret tendre that had burned brightly within her, but he was a man now in every sense of the word. It was easy to imagine him on a battlefield calling out orders. He seemed so capable and confident as if he could handle any situation that might arise. What had his time away been like? What interesting places had he seen? What tragedies had he witnessed? More importantly, what had caused the melancholy she sensed in him?
He wouldn't allow her to push the bounds of propriety as Lord Palmer did. James would be overly protective and cautious. Of that, she had no doubt. He would do all in his power to make certain they returned safely. Hopefully, that didn't mean they wouldn't enjoy themselves. From what little Edward had mentioned, he enjoyed James’ company. Surely that meant James wasn't too much of a stick in the mud.
The idea of being with him for an entire evening was rather thrilling. In his company, she wouldn't have to worry about things such as Lord Palmer overstepping or Barbara and her giggling. The excitement she felt was far different than what she’d felt previously. Though a tingle of nervousness danced in her stomach, it had more to do with being with James than doing something she shouldn't be doing. He truly was a fine figure of a man, so handsome and appealing. Even Margaret noticed, and she rarely did so.
Charlotte had the suspicion that James needed more entertainment in his life. He was so serious compared to the lighthearted young man he used to be. If she could lift the shadows from his eyes, even temporarily, she would be happy.
A knock sounded at her door and she sat up against the pillows. “Enter.”
Much to her surprise, her mother came in. “Good morning, dear.”
“Good morning.” Concern fluttered through her. Lady Wynn had a purpose if she was paying a visit.
“Your father and I have been talking...” her mother began.
Charlotte hid a sigh. She knew exactly what that meant. Her father had spoken, and her mother had nodded. Though she loved her mother dearly, she couldn't help but wonder who she'd been before her marriage. Now she agreed with everything her husband said no matter how unreasonable and unfair it seemed.
Charlotte detested her mother’s disinterest but knew firsthand how difficult it was to argue with him. His temper made any conversation uncomfortable and the few times she’d protested, let alone tried to defy him, he had frightened her. Shouting, throwing objects, and making life difficult for the entire household, including the servants. The memory of the last time she disagreed with him had her swallowing hard.
“Oh?” Although Charlotte understood her mother's position, another part of her resented the fact that she didn't stand up for herself or her children. While Charlotte knew her mother had little choice, she still had opinions. Or at least she used to. But living with her husband had slowly smothered those.
More than once, Charlotte had attempted to speak with her about it. How could she not when one look at her face revealed how unhappy she was? Some women became bitter when locked in a marriage such as hers. But Lady Wynn had become lifeless. C
harlotte didn't know which was worse.
“Your father would like you to speak with Lord Samuelson at the next opportunity. Tomorrow night at the Washburn Ball should be the perfect time. He would make you a fine husband, and your father wants you to catch his notice.”
Charlotte's stomach tightened with unease. “Lord Samuelson? But he's much older than I am.” Too old in Charlotte’s opinion. An image of the tall, rather unattractive man came to mind with his somber countenance and high cheekbones.
“Nonsense. The two of you will suit perfectly. His title is an old one and his family quite wealthy.” Her mother didn't meet her eyes.
“I disagree.” Perhaps her mother had smothered her feelings, but Charlotte had no intention of doing so. While she hated the idea of putting her mother in an uncomfortable situation, she had no choice. This was the rest of her life they were talking about. “Surely I have some say as to who I should marry.”
“Your father knows best.”
Charlotte reached for her mother's arm and squeezed it gently until she met her gaze. But even then she could see the distance in her eyes. For her vacant expression this early in the morning meant one thing—laudanum.
Though Charlotte had suspected it on a few other occasions, there was no other explanation behind that look. No doubt a conversation with her father had been enough for her to seek something to smother her misery despite the early hour.
Charlotte's best hope was to do everything she could to remove her mother from the middle of the situation. Somehow she'd have to find the strength and courage to ask her father to see reason.
But that was not anything to be done rashly. She needed to plan her approach and find the right moment with the hope she could convince him to see her side of things. The chances of success were slim, but she had to try.
“Mother, what if I found a more appropriate suitor?”
“Your father knows best, dear,” she repeated. “You should allow him to guide you in this matter.”
“The qualities he considers important for a potential husband do not align with mine.”
“What would you know of such things?” Her mother shook her head. “He has your best interests at heart.”
“I rather think he has his own best interests at heart. He doesn't care whether or not I'm happy.”
“You sound like a spoiled child.” She gave a disapproving look. “I expect more from you. Now then, why don't you ring for your maid and decide which of your gowns you should wear for tomorrow night’s ball? Your father is certain Lord Samuelson will be there. You must look your best.”
“But mother—”
“No more.” Her mother smoothed her gown, her gaze already on the door. “We will not speak of this again until after you've had a chance to spend time with Lord Samuelson. Make sure you dance with him.”
“Are you coming to the ball?”
“We shall see. I haven't yet decided.”
Her mother attended few events anymore. Charlotte wondered why, though she had the idea that seeing others happy and content with their lives must make her own life all the more painful to bear. Better to spend the evening in her bedchamber with a good book and a bottle of wine, anything to escape her circumstances.
That was not how Charlotte intended to spend her life. While she knew marriage was a compromise, she at least wanted to like and respect her husband. True partnerships were rare. And she had no reason to hope for something of the sort. She wanted to have children and share her love with them one day, but she also wanted a marriage she could more than endure.
That was all her mother was doing. Charlotte would do everything in her power to see that wasn’t her own future. Perhaps it was as simple as making sure Lord Samuelson didn't like her without being too obvious.
“Don't forget to select one of your best gowns. You must make a favorable impression.” When her mother repeated herself, it was never a good sign.
Charlotte would be sure to make an impression, but she couldn't promise it would be a positive one. However, she had to take care as she didn't want Lord Samuelson to say something to her father that would reveal that she’d deliberately sabotaged the meeting. Her father would make her pay if she did, and she might never get the chance to do what she wanted.
Only the thought of planning an outing with James kept her from despair.
Chapter Four
“You wish to go where?” James frowned as he stared at Charlotte, certain she’d lost her mind.
He’d ventured to her home on the pretense of speaking with Edward again. Luckily, Charlotte had been sitting in the drawing room writing letters when he’d arrived. He intended to see his promise to escort her somewhere over and done with as quickly as possible. He didn’t want Edward to discover what was happening as he was certain his friend wouldn’t approve.
“To a gaming hell.”
“Absolutely not.” It was out of the question. The very thought nearly made him shudder. “Ladies aren’t allowed in such places.” Thank goodness. Surely that was reason enough to avoid such an outing.
“I am quite aware of that. I don’t have to go inside. I just want to have a peek.”
Images filled his mind as he considered all the things that could go wrong. “It’s not possible. Pick a different place. What about the theater?” Before the words left his mouth, he was certain she’d refuse. But he had to try.
“I’ve been to the theater.” She shook her head, a scowl twisting her rosy lips. “That won’t do. What if I dressed as a man and—”
“No!” James’ heart lurched at the very idea of Charlotte clothed in breeches and running about in public. To think of himself along her side while she was attired as such was impossible. “Absolutely not. Think of something else.”
She tapped a finger on her chin as she considered the question, only to pause when the sound of Edward’s voice echoed in the hallway. “Riding in Hyde Park. Tomorrow morning,” she added quickly.
“Surely you’ve been there many times.” That wouldn’t be much of an adventure.
“I have but not with you.” She glanced toward the drawing room entrance as if worried they’d be interrupted then quickly returned her gaze to his. “However, meeting there will give us a chance to settle on a plan on which we can both agree.”
“Very well,” he agreed with reluctance. Perhaps he could talk her out of this crazy scheme given additional time. “When?”
“Seven o’clock.”
He nodded, surprised by the early hour. However, that time of the morning should provide them with some privacy as most of the ton remained abed until much later.
Edward entered the room, his gaze shifting between them. “Good afternoon. Am I interrupting?”
“Of course not.” Charlotte smiled at her brother. “I was merely keeping James company while he waited for you.” She put away the letter in the lap writing desk and closed the lid. “I’ll leave the two of you to converse.”
James forced himself not to watch her walk out the room and instead turned to Edward. Heaven forbid his friend realized what he and Charlotte were up to.
~*~
James arrived at the Grosvenor gate entrance to Hyde Park just off Park Lane the following morning astride his roan, wondering how long he’d have to wait for Charlotte to arrive.
The park was quiet at this hour of the morning with only a few other riders visible in the distance. He drew a deep breath of the crisp air, realizing he was looking forward to the ride despite being bleary-eyed from a late night of drinking and gambling with Edward.
However, a short night of sleep suited him as it provided less chance of nightmares. How he detested being jolted awake to the sound of gunfire in his dreams. He’d relived nearly every battle multiple times since his return home, almost always in the middle of the night. Older soldiers called it battle fatigue. Yet resting only seemed to make it worse.
James focused on the view, realizing he hadn’t ridden
purely for pleasure since he’d come home. The beauty of the landscape soothed him. Deer grazed in a distant tree-lined meadow. He looked forward to the ride to come.
If only Charlotte wasn’t intent on courting trouble. Why hadn’t he simply told Edward what she was about? Surely her brother would be able to convince her of the folly of her plan, which would leave James out of it.
He’d only waited a few minutes when Charlotte rode into view with a groom in tow. She rode a gray mare with a black mane who appeared as eager for the ride as his roan. Her blue wool riding habit with a ruffled shirt made her skin glow. The clever matching hat held a large feather that bounced with each step of the horse. James suddenly appreciated the fact that riding habits no longer mimicked military uniforms and instead had shifted to something more feminine.
“Good morning.” Her bright smile caused his own lips to respond in turn.
“And to you.” He guided his horse alongside hers as they rode deeper into the park, her groom trailing behind.
“Though I question the urge to rise early to ride, once I arrive, I’m always pleased I did.” Her gaze swept over the expanse of grass and trees, a contented smile on her face.
James expected her to continue to fill the air with nonsensical chatter, but she remained silent as they rode. Only the soft thud of the horses’ hooves on the ground, the creak of their saddles, and the jingle of the reins met his ears. They’d ridden for several minutes before she glanced over at him with a mischievous, dimpled smile that put up his guard.
“Ready?” she asked.
“For what?”
“A race.” The light in her eyes sparked an answering light inside him that nearly had him pressing a hand to his chest at the unfamiliar sensation. Was it excitement? Joy?
Before he could decide, she’d urged her horse into a gallop, quickly gaining ground on him. He gave his horse the slightest nudge, and the steed leapt forward eagerly to give chase.
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