Page 11 of Charming Artemis

He used the duke’s cravat to soak the stain from his shirt. Artemis poured tiny amounts of vodka on his cravat and dabbed at the stain on his waistcoat. What a ridiculous mess.

Charlie unbuttoned the top of his shirt and stuck the cravat inside, trying to dry off his skin. “You soaked me through.”

“It was an accident.” Again, every word emerged as if it were its own sentence. She turned back to face him, his waistcoat held up for his inspection. “The stain is already beginning to come out.”

“Even if it does, I can hardly return to the ballroom smelling of liquor and soaked to the skin. I really should just call up my brother’s coach and return to Lampton House.”

“Nonsense.” She hung his waistcoat over her arm and closed the distance between them. “Do you always give up so easily?”

“Are you always so stubborn?”

With his vodka-soaked cravat, she rubbed at his open shirtfront. “Newton would not want you to run off in the midst of his betrothal ball. And I will not see Ellie disappointed either.”

“Your loyalty to them is admirable, but fealty does not require you to torture others.”

She shook her head. “I’m helping you not torturing you.”

“There seems to be a fine line between the two.”

She looked up at him, her mouth tight with annoyance. They stood close enough for him to see the minute narrowing of her eyes and hear the tension in each breath. He returned her look of fiery disapproval with one of casual challenge. She, after all, had caused their current debacle. He would not be made to blame.

“I do not like you, Charles Jonquil,” she said through a rigid jaw.

“Mutual, my dear.”

They were standing that way, he in his shirtsleeves, his jacket discarded, his cravat and waistcoat in her hand, his shirt unbuttoned, one of her hands pressed to his chest, looking intently into each other’s eyes, when a voice rang through the empty room. And the word the new arrival chose was not a genteel one.

A glance in the direction of the doorway revealed the duke and duchess, Philip and Sorrel, two wide-eyed Society matrons, and a smattering of young people with mouths agape.

“Oh bother,” Artemis whispered.

One look at Philip told Charlie this was far, far more than a mere bother.

Chapter Four

“When I first saw you,I thought you’d stabbed him.” Persephone rubbed at her temples. “I’m not certain that wouldn’t have been better.”

“I would be willing to stab him now.” Artemis tossed a smile at Adam. Her brother-in-law was always in the mood for a violence-based jest.

But he didn’t nod in agreement or acknowledge her jest in any way. He simply sat at his desk, hands steepled in front of him, his fingers tapping tensely. He’d said very little since stumbling upon Artemis and Charlie attempting to address a laundering emergency. He and Persephone, along with Lord and Lady Lampton, had managed to shoo the crowd away without making the situation seem dire. It had been embarrassing but, thank the heavens, not a disaster.

“Who is overseeing the remainder of the ball?” Artemis asked. All the hosts, after all, were in the bookroom.

“The Duchess of Hartley,” Persephone said.

An excellent choice. She was universally considered an impeccable and capable hostess.

“She will do a fine job,” Persephone said, “and will give no onefurtherreason for whispers.”

Artemis shook her head in amusement. “Thetonnever needs reason for gossiping.”

“They have ample reason now,” Adam muttered.

The servant’s entrance to the room opened quickly. Rose, who was more than Artemis’s abigail—she was also a mentor and friend—slipped inside. She moved directly to Adam. He watched her with silent anticipation.

“Discussions of this have reached the mews. It is impossible to believe it will not be all over London by morning and beyond that very soon thereafter.”

Adam nodded slowly, his expression not lifting. “And what is the nature of the various reports?”

---