Page 5 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
Cecil cocked his head and said, “You miss the intrigue of the Foreign Office so much you see duplicity everywhere.”
Ashford thought his friend’s comment a bit rich as Cecil was convinced half of London were members of the infamous Rogues Alliance, a band of organized criminals known to be active throughout the city.
“Even a former member of the Home Office such as yourself would have seen through her flimsy disguise and discovered that she was a female and a member of the peerage,” he replied with a grin. “Nathaniel mentioned he was being coerced into escorting his sister to Lady Cairs ball this evening. I think I shall go along to see if I can root out my vagrant.”
Ashford assumed there was an invitation to Lady Cairs’s ball in the stack of correspondence on the letter tray in his study. He was an eligible bachelor, after all. Anyone who attended one of the lady’s entertainments would expect a parade of unmarried misses to be in attendance as Lady Cairs was a notorious matchmaker.
Cecil adjusted one of his cuffs as he responded, “Perhaps I shall accompany you merely to placate my mother. She has been upset with me of late, disappointed that the London papers have no mention of me in the society pages. If I attend a ball, I might be back in her good graces for a while.”
He responded with a bark of laughter. “Your mother wants you married. That and nothing else will make her happy.”
“David married far too young and ruined my life,” Cecil replied, his expression bleak for a moment at the mention of his only surviving brother. “The boy is barely twenty-two and already has a child on the way.”
“And we are nearing the age of thirty with no prospects in sight.”
“None wanted,” Cecil rejoined with a shudder.
The man took a sip of coffee, his features now a blank mask. Cecil’s older brother had been murdered by footpaths three years ago, and the pain of their loss had nearly torn his family apart. Cecil was sure his brother’s death was connected to the alliance.
“If my urchin is nowhere to be seen at the ball, you may spend the next several days crowing over my folly,” Ashford said lightly into the awkward silence, hoping to distract his friend from sad memories.
Cecil’s expression suddenly appeared more cheerful. He nodded. “I am so sure that you will not see your mysterious lady that I will accompany you to the ball.”
Another benefit of attending the event would be to listen for chatter about Lady Lamb’s forthcoming book. She was keeping the details close to her chest. The woman had a sharp tongue and held a grudge. Who might the lady ridicule in her upcoming tome?
Diana was currently in Bath. He hoped she would remain there for some time and stay out of the gossip sheets. After the season was over, he would do his best to convince her to retire to the countryside for an extended period.
Chapter Three
“Who was that man?” Louisa asked her friend once they were both in the privacy of the town carriage. “Now that you are back in the coach, we are safe from curious eyes.” Louisa sighed as she relaxed against the plush squabs. “No harm done.”
The man she’d encountered outside of White’s was one of the most striking men Charlotte had ever met, and she didn’t even know his name. Once he had seen Louisa, he’d obviously decided she was a member of the gentry. His agreeable demeanor vanished to be replaced with a rather frigid countenance as disapproval of her escapade rolled from him in waves.
“We weren’t properly introduced. He came out of White’s and approached me,” she replied with a shrug. She felt unaccountably dismayed that the elegant gentleman disapproved of her. Charlotte pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in the wool coat she wore and proceeded to vigorously rub the linen over her face to clean away the soot. “You used my father’s title.”
“I’m not accustomed to lying.” Louisa frowned at Charlotte’s efforts. “Let me have that handkerchief. You are missing some spots.”
That morning Charlotte pilfered some of the old clothing the housekeeper put aside for the rag and bone man to collect. The clothes were worn but clean. An old pair of boots were drying by the fire in the kitchen, and she took them, silently apologizing to their owner. She rubbed ashes from the nearby grate on her face and exited the townhouse in Hanover Square for the mews behind. Her father’s coachman drove to Louisa’s home in Grosvenor Square, and then the ladies continued on to Piccadilly Street.
The day was now bright outside, and light crept through the sliver of space between the drawn curtains of their conveyance. The carriage was well-sprung, and their trip through the cobblestone streets was comfortable.
After a minute of exertion, Louisa sat back and said, “There. Your face is clean again.”
Charlotte took the proffered handkerchief and stuffed the dirty piece of linen back into the pocket of her coat.
“Whoever the man was, he knew I was a female and even guessed I had means enough to afford a carriage.” Perhaps if she hadn’t been so distracted by the man’s attractiveness, she would have put more effort into disguising her voice.
Louisa rolled her eyes. “I told you your disguise wouldn’t fool anyone who looked closely at you.”
She saw no reason to acknowledge Louisa’s point. Her friend was too free with her opinions as it was.
Charlotte imagined the scent of the man’s spicy cologne still surrounded her. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed him at the balls and routs of the marriage mart because he was a married gentleman. That was a depressing thought. No matter how attractive she found the man, his manner upon leaving her had been abrupt, bordering on rude. It seemed her adventure that morning was forgivable if she’d not been a member of the peerage.
“No one was seated in the bow window today,” she said to her friend, hoping to banish any lingering thoughts of the elegant gentleman from White’s. “The only thing I learned is that the club has a majordomo named Dawkins.”
Louisa clicked her tongue. “We’re not going to be able to convince Mrs. Thorne that she needs a majordomo in her shop.”
“You’re probably right about that.” Charlotte glanced at the cushion next to Louisa, where a bonnet and old walking dress rested. “I must take off these clothes. The material of this shirt is itchy. The dress I brought along will be suitable until I arrive home. I forgot to bring along shoes, so I’ll have to continue wearing these boots.”
