Page 26 of The Tenacious Lady Blackmore

Chapter Nine

Charlotte typically looked forward to an evening dancing. She’d long since found pleasure in coming across old friends, sharing tales of the last week or two, and most certainly, she enjoyed swirling across the floor, the feel of chalk beneath her slippers.

Being a widow of a substantial fortune made her an often sought-out companion. She never turned down the opportunity to join friends in dance. The gowns nowadays, with fewer layers and skirts of a more modest width, made dancing far simpler than it had been when she’d first ventured out into society.

But tonight was different. Though she’d already danced three times—and enjoyed each of them—she couldn’t keep her mind focused on her steps—or her gaze away from the door.

She was looking for Seth. There was no denying it.

For the past several months, she’d become accustomed to looking for him and his daughters, though she’d told herself, and fully believed, that her intention had been to ease their way into society. She was the reason Seth had been knighted, and she felt responsible to see to it that they weren’t left in the miserable middle ground of being part of society but not accepted by it.

However, she had accomplished as much. With Seth’s three daughters all married to reputable men, and each having made friends among theton, there wasn’t anything Charlotte needed to do.

Yet, she watched the doors.

And she wasn’t looking for Eliza, Rachel, or Dinah.

She was watching for Seth.

Two individuals who were ‘no more than friends’ didn’t fixate so wholly on the arrival of one another. Seth had made it completely clear, on more than one occasion, that friendship was all he was prepared to give her.

Charlotte shook her head and finished the steps of this, her fourth dance.

Lord Linfield took her hand as they finished and led her toward the side of the room.

Charlotte ached to glance toward the door yet again but firmly kept her face forward.

“You are as graceful as ever, Charlotte.”

“That is very kind of you to say.”

They reached the edge of the dance floor and turned to face it, standing shoulder to shoulder.

“I would not say it if it weren’t true.”

Charlotte eyed him surreptitiously; she doubted as much. Lord Linfield frequently chose flattery over honesty. Just as her own love of dancing had not changed, no matter how many years had passed since they’d been in one another’s company, she doubted his propensity to flatter had changed as well.

Lord Linfield leaned in, and his unexpected nearness made her wish to draw back.

“Is there someone you are anticipating?”

“Pardon me?” Charlotte asked. She didn’t dislike Lord Linfield’s company, only it wasn’t often someone drew so near her, and she wasn’t fully comfortable with it.

“You keep glancing toward the door. Is someone of importance coming tonight?”

She’d not been as successful at hiding her thoughts as she’d hoped. “Just a friend. He said he might attend.”

“Ah,” Lord Linfield said with far too much understanding in his expression. “You are hoping Sir Mulgrave will be here.”

What a childish fool she must be making herself out to be if even Lord Linfield had pieced together the situation with so much clarity. Was it any wonder, then, that the committee had lost trust in her?

“Yes”—lying would be pointless—“he mentioned he might make an appearance, as I said, and I’d hate to be accused of slighting him.”

“Do you make a habit of staring at doors to watch foranyfriend who may arrive?”

Charlotte turned toward him fully, using the opportunity to step back slightly as well. “Who’s to say I don’t?”

He closed the small distance she’d placed between them and took her hand. “Would you stare at the door, waiting forme?”

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