Page 46 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
Eleanor paused at the periphery of the dance floor and turned to face the others. She had a wide grin on her face, and her arms spread widely. “This is it.”
Charlotte heard the Dowager Countess mumble under her breath before they formed a small circle around their fearless leader and awaited further instructions. Beatrice stood across from Charlotte with a calculating look on her face as she scanned the crowd. Between choosing Aphrodite and searching through the guests as if she planned an assignation, Beatrice was acting quite uncharacteristically of her usual decorous self.
“Let’s grab drinks and find Bridget,” Eleanor said. The women made their way to the refreshment table where there was a punch bowl. Charlotte was not used to serving herself at balls, but it seemed Society’s rules had been tossed aside. As the ladies sipped their drinks, searching the crowd for Bridget, a tall woman walked over to them. She wore a tunic in which a slit was shockingly fashioned to expose her leg up to the thigh.
“Welcome, lovelies, are you enjoying yourselves?” the woman crooned.
The Dowager Countess spoke up, “Lady Stanhope, I see you’ve carried on the tradition of the masquerade ball.”
Her eyes sparkled behind her silver mask. “How’d you know it was me?” she asked laughing. “I couldn’t let the efforts of my predecessors be in vain,Lady Downham. I hope this ball lives up to prior ones.”
The Dowager Countess shook her head. “For the sake of my granddaughter and these innocent young ladies, I hope it does not.”
Lady Stanhope let out a generous chuckle that would be shunned in any drawing room. “Well, I do hope you enjoy yourselves.” She turned with flourish as her tunic spun around her, and she glided over to the next group.
“The wives of the Barons Stanhope have always been eccentric. This one’s an actress,” Lady Downham commented. She released an exasperated sigh.
“Beatrice, do you see any sign of Bridget? You’re a bit taller than me,” Eleanor asked. Charlotte applauded her friend for trying to cover up Beatrice’s obvious perusal of the crowd.
“No, I don’t see her or Lord Carrington.”
“I’m surprised we haven’t spotted her. I created glorious wings for Bridget’s Nemesis costume.” Eleanor led the group of women into the crowd around the dance floor in search of their friend. Charlotte thought more about Bridget’s costume and drifted to the back of the pack. She did not understand why Bridget had chosen the goddess of retribution and vengeance. Bridget seemed rather timid and subdued. Nevertheless, “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” and perhaps Bridget was a woman slighted. She adored her newly discovered friends, but she had the disconcerting feeling that each woman was hiding something. Charlotte shuddered as she recalled Beatrice’s words when they first met.
We all have our scandalous secrets, and nothing in thetonstays hidden for long. The only safeguard is to keep it to yourself or rid yourself of anyone who would tattle.
Charlotte was so lost in her thoughts that she startled when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. She stopped walking and searched for the source of her detainment. A tunicked man withlight-brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes, not dissimilar from her own, gazed down at her through a white mask.
“What do we have here?” the man asked smoothly. She jolted as the voice registered in her mind. It sounded eerily familiar.
“Nate?”
“Tut, tut. There’s a mask for a reason. No guessing identities, sweetheart,” he drawled. He tugged Charlotte closer to him. She was caught off guard, and her hands splayed across his chest to prevent herself from toppling over. She definitely knew this voice.
“Nate! It’s Charlotte.”
“Charlotte?”
“Your sister, you dolt!” The hands that had moved to her waist released her, and her older brother stepped back in revulsion.
“What are you doing in London? And what are you doing here?”
“I sent word to you, Henry, Arthur, and Father to let you know I would be in London for the Season! I assumed no one would care except Arthur, but I tried anyway. I guess I was right.”
Nate puffed out his chest in indignation. “Dearest sister, you assume I read my correspondence. I do not.”
“Regardless, you didn’t even recognize me!” she hissed through her teeth.
“You are wearing a veil!”
“But I recognized you! I knew your voice,” Charlotte argued while she tried to keep her words from trembling. She was absolutely crushed. She knew how little most of her family thought of her, but this was a low point.
“You sound different. You’ve matured.” Nate moved his arm in a vertical motion, indicating her growth. Charlotte willed herself not to burst into tears.
“I just made my debut! Aunt Frances has been telling anyone who will listen about me, especially men of marriageable age. You have heard nothing?”
He shrugged with an annoying amount of insouciance. “Honestly, Charlotte, I didn’t. I try to avoid Society events at all costs, but I make an exception for the Stanhope Masquerade Ball. It’s actually quite fun, which can’t be said of all those dull events where marriage-minded mothers throw their daughters at me, even as a second son.” Nate cringed.
“You should have recognized your own sister.”
