by Georgie Lee
She placed her gloved hand on his offered arm and the flutter in her chest struck her the way lightning used to strike the masts of the ships she’d travelled on during storms. In a fog of astonishment, she accompanied him to the dance floor, aware of every shift of his muscles beneath her palm, each solid fall of his shoes against the floorboards. Curious about the man raising such a reaction in her, she slid a sly glance at him. His black evening jacket added to his commanding presence, the white cravat tied beneath his chin accentuating the line of his jaw and the brown hair cut short just above his ear.
He caught her admiring him and she quickly looked away, but she hazarded another glance and found him smiling at her. She returned his smile, reveling in the warmth of it and, with reluctance, let go of him as they took their places next to each other for the dance.
“I’m very pleased to see you here tonight,” he offered as they circled one another for the opening steps. “I hope you might entertain me with your thoughts on art.”
The dance forced them to separate for a moment but they were soon back together. “I’m happy to oblige but such subjects have often been our downfall.”
He surprised her with a solemn look. “I must apologize for my previous behavior.
It would give me great pleasure if we could begin again.”
Charlotte almost missed a step before she recovered herself. It was such a strange request but so earnestly made she couldn’t refuse. “I believe we can.”
He took her hand over her head and her other across her stomach to lead her through the allemande. Without thinking, she curled her fingers tighter around his, matching his tender pressure, the warmth of his grip stealing over her like the heat of the room. If it hadn’t been required by the dance, she wouldn’t have let go, but she did, circling the woman next to her before coming to rejoin him, the quick turn as much as Lord Woodcliff making her head swim.
Further down the line, she spied Lord Ashford and Elizabeth and nodded in their direction. “Lord Ashford is a great patron of St. Dunstan’s.”
“Yes, he’s told me about your charity work. How did you develop such an interest?”
The dance separated them again, giving Charlotte time to decide how best to answer. She could give him the response she gave all those who asked, or she could tell him the truth. She was ready to explain for the hundredth time how she wanted to do something of meaning with her time when the soft look in his eyes as they came together made her reveal the real reason. “My parents died of a fever when I was twelve and I was sent to Venice to join my aunt and uncle.”
“I’m so sorry,” he offered with genuine sympathy. “It must have been quite a shock.”
“It was,” Charlotte whispered, remembering how she’d sat for days in the window of her aunt and uncle’s Venetian town house, watching the boats pass by on the canal below and crying when she thought no one was looking. Even back then she’d refused to cry in front of others, not even Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles who’d watched her mourn with great concern. “But Aunt Mary refused to allow me feel sorry for myself or wallow in my sadness.”
“You were very lucky to have her.”
“Lucky indeed. One day she bundled up our old dresses and took them and me to a charity hospital outside Venice. When I saw those poor children, some of them my age, and the way they suffered, it made my suffering seem paltry in comparison. I’ve dedicated myself to raising money for hospitals ever since.”
“You’ve chosen a very worthy cause and I’m sure there are a great many thankful for your work.”
Charlotte’s cheeks burned with the compliment, for there was no mockery or false admiration in it. “When I was in Paris I was impressed with Napoleon’s system of medical care.”
“You approve of Napoleon?”
“No, he’s a tyrant of the worst kind, but his superb sense of organization has benefited many institutions, including hospitals.”
“And you hope to do the same at St. Dunstan’s?”
“It could be done, with the proper funds, but despite the success of my soiree, I’ve had a difficult time convincing anyone besides those who attended to be generous. London is sorely lacking in people who’d part with a shilling for the poor. They’d rather spend it on French silk.”
“Not everyone is so selfish and when we’re finished dancing, I’ll prove it.”
She doubted London society was as generous as he believed, but if it meant helping the hospital, she’d happily allow him to prove her wrong.
*****
Mary grasped Lady Redding’s arm with controlled excitement as Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff remained on the floor for a second dance. “You were right.”
Lady Redding raised her chin in triumph. “I told you. Two such willful young people often need encouragement to uncover the truth of their own hearts.”
“Charlotte will need more than one night. She’s very willful.”
“Then we’ll give them more encouragement.” Lady Redding leveled her fan at an older gentleman who stood nearby, finishing the last of his lemonade. He also watched the young couple, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “There’s Lord Woodcliff’s father. Shall I introduce you?”
“Yes, please do.” Mary clapped her hands together, thrilled by her good fortune. Plans for Charlotte’s trousseau filled her thoughts as Lady Redding caught the gentleman’s eye and motioned for him to join them. He responded quickly, taking Lady Redding’s extended hand and kissing it.
“You were right,” he said with a wink.
Lady Redding’s smile deepened. “I was doubted by all and now I’m without doubt. Lord Hatteston, may I introduce Mrs. Stuart, Miss Stuart’s aunt.”
He took Mary’s hand, giving it a happy, firm squeeze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard a great deal about your niece. May my son call?”
“My lord, he is welcome at any time,” Mary breathed, almost excited beyond words.
“Then we’ll meet again soon.” He bowed and strode off across the room.
Mary rapidly waved her fan in an effort to maintain her air of decorum. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see this. Do you think it’s wise to let Charlotte favor Lord Woodcliff so much? People will talk.”
“Good. It will scare away any other young ladies who fancy him.”
“I adore your advice. It’s so much more useful than Mrs. Knight’s.”
*****
The second dance ended and Lord Woodcliff escorted Charlotte back to her aunt and Lady Redding. While Lady Redding and Aunt Mary exchanged the latest on-dit with Lady Treadwell, Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff stood close by, Lord Woodcliff glancing about the room.
“Who are you looking for?” Charlotte asked as he caught the eye of an older gentleman of about five and forty standing with a group of soberly dressed matrons near the door.
“People with charitable inclinations.” Lord Woodcliff motioned to the stout gentleman who seemed very pleased to have an excuse to leave his party.
“Veness,” Lord Woodcliff bowed to the older gentleman as he approached. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Woodcliff, I didn’t expect you to be here tonight,” the gentleman replied in a raspy voice before catching Charlotte’s eye. “Though I can understand your reason for attending.”
Before the older gentleman could speculate further, Lord Woodcliff turned to make the introduction. “Lord Veness, may I introduce Miss Stuart. She’s a great patron of St. Dunstan’s Charitable Hospital.”
“A very admirable pursuit in a young lady, though my wife might disagree.” Lord Veness winked at Charlotte who instantly liked the older man. He reminded her of her uncle with his good humor and easy manner.
“Miss Stuart is soliciting funds for improvements to the hospital. I know a man of your generosity will do all he can to help.”
Lord Veness beamed. “I’d be delighted. I’ll send my man around tomorrow. Who should he ask for?”
“Dr. Walter,” Charlotte q
uickly offered.
“I’ve heard of him. Excellent fellow. Solid reputation.”
“Perhaps you could mention it to your friends? I’m sure they’d like to help such a worthy cause,” Lord Woodcliff suggested and Lord Veness nodded vigorously.
“Definitely. I’ll do all I can to help Miss Stuart.” He bowed to Charlotte, then rubbed his thick chin as he studied the guests. “Now, let’s see who else might be able to help you.”
By the time Lord Veness was done, he’d garnered donations from two older ladies and a gentlemen before leaving them with a promise to find more willing patrons.
“Lord Woodcliff, thank you very much for your kindness. I hadn’t expected this kind of generosity at Almack’s,” Charlotte said as he led her on to the floor for their third dance. She knew it wasn’t the custom to dance so much with one man, but she wasn’t ready to relinquish Lord Woodcliff’s attention. With people already whispering about her being Miss Out and Outer, another story made little difference.
“Not everyone is from London,” he replied as they took their position for the opening. “Some of us have seen enough of the world’s troubles to appreciate our own prosperity and know how important it is to help the less fortunate. Near Grossmont Hall, my family seat, there are a number of families who could benefit from the services of a proper physician.”
“I thought you despised physicians?” Charlotte ventured as the dance began. She instantly regretted it as his smile faded to a look of pain.
“When I was ten, my mother died at the hands of a quack. She was ill and he bled her until she was so weak there was no chance of recovery. Since then, I’ve always been suspicious of medical men. At the time of your soirée I didn’t know Dr. Walter’s reputation. I challenged him because I wanted to protect you and your guests.”
Suddenly his behavior made perfect sense and her heart went out to him. She knew all too well what it was like to experience such loss. “I’m very sorry, and I admire your courage in telling me. I know it isn’t easy to talk about such things.”
They interlaced their arms for the turn and his fingers curled around hers, pressing against her gloved palms to hold her steady. The nearness of him and the sharp scent of his musky cologne made the room fall away for a moment until it was only her and him and the small intimacies they’d shared.
“People are in great need of good physicians especially in the country. A lady like you could do much to ease their suffering,” he announced, perhaps a little too loudly and she knew their closeness affected him as well.
“I intend to. At the end of the Season I’m returning to my uncle’s house in Salisbury to establish a proper village clinic,” Charlotte replied and she caught his fleeting look of disappointment.
“London will lose a great deal by your absence. It’s in dire need of enlightened ladies like you.”
When they were forced to release one another, she opened and closed her hand, missing the pressure of his fingertips, the sensation as surprising as his remark.
“I didn’t think you approved of educated ladies?”
He knit his brows in confusion. “When did I give you such a notion?”
“The first day we met. You said Eton and Cambridge had nothing to offer a lady.”
At the reminder of his words, Lord Woodcliff laughed, sliding his hand back into hers for the next step. “I assure you, Miss Stuart, you misunderstood the remark. I said Eton and Cambridge had nothing to recommend themselves to ladies because both institutions have little to offer in regards to true education for either sex. You were much better educated as you were than to have had your mind stilted by old dons.”
“Few gentlemen would admit such a thing to a lady.”
“Few gentlemen genuinely study while at school. Most prefer to gamble and carouse. Now, Miss Stuart, tell me about you. Why did you and your family remain in Paris after Napoleon broke the peace of Amiens?”
Charlotte hesitated, remembering too well the danger and uncertainty of those long months in France. “We’d been in Paris for so many years, few thought of us as English and Uncle Charles was able to continue his business for quite some time. The danger wasn’t apparent until after Napoleon’s victory at Austerlitz. As we prepared to leave, a number of other Englishmen needed our assistance. Uncle Charles did all he could for them which greatly delayed our departure.”
“How were you finally able to leave?”
“Uncle Charles secured permission from his friends in the French government. But it wasn’t easy for they were arresting all British men and the Paris officials almost refused our request to travel. Once we were allowed to leave, we had to ride like the devil to make our ship, which was one of the last to reach England before the blockade.” She shivered as she recalled the dark night in the carriage when her aunt had clung to her as they’d rushed across the French countryside toward Calais.
“Why didn’t you and your aunt leave sooner?”
“Uncle Charles wanted us to, but we refused. We couldn’t leave him to who knows what fate.”
“It was very honorable of you to remain with him. It shows your great love for one another. I hope someday to inspire such loyalty in you,” he said softly.
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat and she worked to stay standing beside him and not fall into his arms to finish what they’d begun at Mr. Taylor’s. The dance floor at Almack’s was no place to forget oneself. “Will witty conversation suffice for now?”
“For now.”
Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff continued dancing, discussing art and Paris and enjoying each other’s company. He spoke candidly, which encouraged her to do the same. She considered appearing more reserved and revealing less but the ease she experienced in his company proved more powerful than any desire to remain silent. Thoughts she rarely shared with anyone else tumbled from her lips and he listened with great interest and understanding, returning her confidences with those of his own.
*****
Charlotte and Edward’s intimacy did not go unnoticed by Mary and Lady Redding, who continued to watch the couple dance.
“I believe we should be going. Though I hate to intrude so soon,” Mary said, covering a yawn with her fan as the clock across the room proclaimed the late hour.
“We must intrude and leave them desiring more of each other’s company,” Lady Redding advised.
“How wonderful you are at this.”
“If I’m half as talented as you believe, we’ll have a wedding by the end of the Season.”
Mary smiled brightly as Lord Woodcliff escorted Charlotte back to them.
“What a pleasant evening this has been but it’s late and we must be going.” Mary happily observed the look of disappointment on her niece’s face and offered a quick boon to soften the departure. “Lord Woodcliff, I had the pleasure of meeting your father. He asked permission for you to call. I hope we may see you soon.”
“Indeed, you will.” Lord Woodcliff turned to Charlotte, taking her offered hand and lightly brushing his lips across her knuckles. “I look forward to continuing our conversation, Miss Stuart.”
Mary noted, for the first time in her life, Charlotte had no response.
*****
In the carriage, Charlotte silently chided herself for being such a ninny and not finding the words for a proper goodbye. She turned to complain to Lady Redding and Aunt Mary but their self-satisfied looks stopped her short and she quickly realized the folly of her girlish silence.
“I see you fulfilled your promise to enjoy yourself,” Aunt Mary teased.
“The evening was more tolerable than I expected.”
“As was Lord Woodcliff’s company,” Lady Redding chimed in a singsong voice.
“He was certainly more agreeable than during our previous meetings,” Charlotte answered with reserve, trying to discourage further speculation.
After exchanging knowing glances, Lady Redding and Aunt Mary fell into silence as the exhaustion of the evening settled over them.
>
Charlotte was hardly aware of the rocking carriage or the noise of the equipage as they made for home. Against the palm of her hand she could still perceive the pressure of Lord Woodcliff’s fingers, see his stunning blue eyes admiring her from beneath his brows as he’d bowed to offer his goodbye. Every confidence they’d shared tonight had lingered in the subtle pause between them before she’d reluctantly slipped her hand from his and turned to leave.
She hadn’t wanted to go, but to stay beside him dancing and talking, experiencing for the first time what it was like to be at ease in London society. The desire troubled her as much as the regard for him building inside her. She’d spoken this openly to the Comte once, seeking him out at each ball or salon, thinking they shared an understanding of one another which she’d always craved. In the end they hadn’t and she worried Lord Woodcliff would cause her to regret the intimacy of their conversation too. Some small part of her longed for his condescending demeanor to make him less attractive, but even his haughtiness had contained purpose and she could scarcely fault him for it. Instead she understood his pain because it was the same as hers.
She fluffed her gown over her knees, attempting to shake off such morose thoughts. Tonight was but one encounter with Lord Woodcliff, not the many which had made up her relationship with the Comte. To read more into it was ridiculous and all she needed to do was be cautious with Lord Woodcliff in the future. It would prevent her from raising her hopes and risking her heart again. She settled back against the squabs as the carriage rattled through the dark streets, her mind filled with memories of the evening and the hope of seeing Lord Woodcliff again.
*****
Edward and George stepped out of Almack’s into their waiting carriage. As it set off down the street, Edward congratulated himself on his victory with Miss Stuart. He’d behaved just as he’d intended, his tongue never betraying him, his nerves never getting the best of him. He’d avoided topics which had tripped them up in the past, including his mother’s painting, her openness with him suggesting there would be another time and place in which to discuss it. She’d responded to him with a sweetness he’d barely imagined possible during his ride this morning. It wasn’t just friendship she’d offered but understanding, sharing with him her pain over losing her parents and recognizing how much his mother’s loss had affected him. They hadn’t fought or disagreed, but been pleasant and honest with one another in a way he’d never experienced with a woman before.
