Page 51 of Tempted By an Unconventional Lady
“Skirting, yes,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her. “But isn’t that where most of the fun is to be had?”
Charlotte pressed her lips together and looked away, grateful that the maid rode far enough behind them that she was out of earshot. She wanted to say so much—that she would follow his lead, that she trusted him to show her what fun truly was.
That she hadn’t stopped thinking about his touch since the moment they left Hampshire, and she had craved it ever since. She said none of those things, remembering her manners, her aunt, her promise to herself that she would never fall for a man, never become merely someone’s wife. But goodness, did she want to.
“Speaking of fun,” he continued after a long moment, “it is the Clarence Ball in just a few days—always one of my favorites of the season, and I have no doubt that this year will be no different. Will you, perchance, be attending?”
Charlotte hadn’t planned on attending. She hadn’t been to a society ball in many months—perhaps even years—and neither did she have any desire to go.
Until now.
“Most certainly, I will.”
Chapter 19
Charlotte brushed her hands over the front of her scarlet silk gown as she stepped into the ballroom three days later. She couldn’t believe it, but she was shaking with nerves. Actually shaking! She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her. She looked around the busy room, scouting for the duke, searching for the slight curl of Alexander’s hair. When she couldn’t see him, she sagged in disappointment.
“Come along then,” Aunt Lydia snapped beside her. She wore an expression as sour as the lemon yellow of her gown, and she prodded Charlotte further into the room. “You wanted to come, so no dilly dallying at the doorway.”
“Ah, but it’s good to be back in the folds of society, is it not?” Uncle Elliot beamed, his hands clasped neatly in front of himself. “It feels like an age since we were last at a ball.”
“Ithasbeen an age,” Aunt Lydia replied. “And that’s just how I like it.”
Charlotte turned and smiled weakly at her aunt. For some reason, she had been determined to stop Charlotte attending the ball at all, but Charlotte had been adamant. She desperatelywanted to see the duke again, even if she would not admit as much.
And besides, it made no sense to her that her aunt would be against such a thing. Surely the woman hoped Charlotte would be out from under her feet sooner rather than later. Most guardians were eager to see their charges married off.
“Oh, look, there are some friends over there,” Charlotte said, pointing vaguely in the direction of a group of people she was certain she had met once or twice. “I’ll see you a little later.”
Charlotte slipped into the crowd of people before her aunt could protest. She sighed with the relief of being away from her. Being in Lydia’s company sometimes felt like far too much of a weight to bear. Rather than approach people who weren’t, after all, friends, Charlotte walked around the ballroom, peeking into every alcove and behind every pillar she could.
Stupid.
She gritted her teeth as she came full circle to the entrance again, and she picked a glass of wine from a passing tray. Was she really so dumbstruck by a man that she would spend her precious time searching for him?
Yes.No. She frowned, annoyed at the way her own heart seemed to betray her. It had turned her into a simpering woman, eager for a man’s attention.
But not just any man.
She slumped against the wall in the most unladylike of manners, knowing full well Aunt Lydia would be furious if she saw her, and she let the disappointment wash over her. She had been foolish to think fate would shine her light upon them again. Alexander’s sweet words at the park must have been just that: sugar that had turned sticky in the rain.
With Chelsea still on her honeymoon, there wasn’t even anyone worth talking to, and Charlotte found herself increasingly bored. She danced with a few gentlemen, of course, but not one of them lit her soul up in the way the duke did. Not one of them came even close to sparking something. It was becoming more and more apparent that the duke was not coming, despite what he had said, and Charlotte was as humiliated and angry, as she was bored.
“This is why I always avoid society,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that, dear?” an old man near her asked. “Could you speak up a little?”
Charlotte glanced at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
She trailed off, not sure what to say, and instead of completing her sentence, she turned and vanished down a quiet corridor. A little space to breathe and reconnect the pieces of her mind would do her good. The further from the noise and chatter of the ballroom she went, the slower Charlotte’s pace became. Her heart calmed, the perspiration on her forehead drying.
It was then that she found the library. Through the open door, she could see the window across the way, the full moon large and pouring light inside. Libraries had always been one of Charlotte’s favorite places to be, and so she slipped inside. She inhaled the scent of dust and book glue as she moved deeper into the room, her slippers sinking into the thick Turkish rug that spanned almost the entire width of the room.
She crossed the room to stand in front of the large window, her fingertips running across the windowsill as she looked out at the moon. It seemed to eclipse everything—the garden, the house, even her heart.
“I’d wager you have never been so foolish as to believe in the lies of others, have you?”
She gazed up at the moon as if it could answer, but instead of words she heard footsteps behind her. She froze, her body locking into place. She was trespassing; she shouldn’t have been there. But as they approached, her shoulders instinctively relaxed, the beating of her heart calming to a rhythm she wasbecoming familiar with. She knew those footsteps. Would know them anywhere.
