Page 41 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
“So you’re Lady Flora’s companion?” Lady Eddington drew out the last word as if she couldn’t comprehend how a servant had joined their conversation.
“She is.” Flora looped her arm through Charlotte’s, holding her by her side. “Lady Eddington, Miss Eddington, allow me to present my companion, Mrs. Taylor. When she’s not accompanying me to balls and reminding me of my manners, she teaches French and deportment to the children at Little Windmill House, the foundling home Lord Inverray founded.”
Finlay considered the way Miss Eddington greeted Charlotte politely with a small nod, but the viscountess continued to observe her with barely concealed suspicion.
“So you are a deportment instructor.” It was not a question. The older woman’s gaze jumped to Flora. “An apt companion, I’d say.”
Flora’s black brows dipped low over her eyes, the cords in her neck taut and visible. “Apt, you say? I agree. I think we all need a steady influence to remind us of what’s proper, such as remembering ourselves around our betters.”
Finlay looked down at his feet rather than risk laughing at Lady Eddington’s pale expression.
“Thankfully, I’ve never known you to forget yourself or the lessons you were taught by your mother, the duchess,” Charlotte responded as she laid a hand on Flora’s arm, and her shoulders instantly relaxed.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, smoothing down her skirts. Turning her head to take in the chattering crowd quickly filling the room to capacity, Flora flashed the two Eddington women a tight smile. “It appears my sister and her duke have arrived. I haven’t spoken with her in an age. If you will excuse me.”
They watched the Scotswoman navigate through the crowd before Lady Eddington pivoted to face Finlay. “I fear I have other guests to greet, but I’d be more than happy to save a seat for you in the very front row so you have an unobstructed view of Marguerite’s superior talent.”
“I’d appreciate that above all things,” he said, bowing to both women.
His tongue grew numb and heavy as the Eddington women walked away. He was uncertain of whether he should excuse himself or revel in the luxury of having a private moment with Charlotte.
Instead, she took the decision from him.
“She was lying, you know. Flora visited with the Duchess of Ashwood just this morning, when Her Grace gave me this beautiful gown.”
He rejoiced in his excuse to inspect her delectable figure, under the guise of admiring said gown, before he met her gaze. “I’m convincedyoumake it beautiful.”
“My, Lord Firthwell, your compliments could be military weapons,” she said, even as her breath grow shallow.
“I’ll remember to tout that.” He searched the room for Inverray. Surely if Flora was here, so was the man. He desperately needed a distraction from the enchanting woman next to him. “Heaven knows I’ll need all the help I can get to win this race.”
Finlay sensed her concentrated regard. “I…I’m guessing an alliance with the Eddingtons would be a boon.”
He slowly looked down at her. Taking in how the soft planes of her face had hardened into a mask, he experienced an overwhelming feeling of loss. “Yes, it would.”
She nodded, angling her head away. Not being able to see her expression made him grind his teeth. “Then don’t let Lady Flora dominate the conversation. She doesn’t mean to do it, but it’s impossible to ignore her.” Charlotte stared fixedly at a distant target, and Finlay followed the line of her sight until his gaze landed on Miss Eddington. “Pay attention when she speaks. Ask her about herself. Make her feel as if she is the only woman you see. The only woman you care about.”
“But it would be a lie,” he bit out.
…
Fire.
Fire burned in her chest. It scorched through her armor. It incinerated her resolve. Turned her lungs to ash, for abruptly she couldn’t breathe.
It made her want to cry in helplessness, and she despised feeling such.
Standing idly by as Finlay charmed a proper young lady, a woman of his class, deserving of his regard, was surely worse than the torture rack. His whispered words were like the last turn on the crank.
Pushing down the pain, down deep where she locked away her heartbreak born of death, carelessness, and betrayal, she forced herself to turn to him, no matter if it was like facing a noonday sun. “Is telling believable lies a requirement of being a politician? You’re quite proficient.”
The words were bitter and unfair. In the short time she’d known him, Finlay had become one of the two most admirable men of her acquaintance.
Finlay’s gifted lips stretched into a sad farce of a smile. “I’ve never been very good at telling lies. Perhaps I should reconsider my political aspirations.”
With those words, he delivered a polite bow and walked away, taking Charlotte’s willpower with him.
Chapter Fifteen
