Chapter 21 #2
‘How did I know you were hiding under my nose?’ he finished smoothly. ‘Well, when I saw the lower half of your face in the schoolroom—remarkably similar to the young woman I had been searching for—I began to suspect.’
‘Oh.’
Striding to his desk, he opened a locked drawer and withdrew a letter. Charlotte recognised it immediately.
It was her own.
‘I was certain once I compared your handwriting to the invitations you penned.’
Charlotte rocked slightly on her feet, feeling thoroughly foolish.
Lord Stanley stepped closer, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his jaw tight with restrained amusement.
‘Then I instructed my Bow Street Runners to track down one of Charlotte Walker’s acquaintances—namely Anne Lucas, who, when questioned, professed no knowledge whatsoever of your whereabouts.’
He tilted his head slightly.
‘Particularly curious, considering that same Anne Lucas was conveniently employed here as governess.’
‘Oh.’ Charlotte winced inwardly.
The candlelight flickered softly between them.
‘Are you one of them?’ he asked quietly, stepping closer.
He was near enough now that she could see the faint shadow darkening his jaw, and the awareness of his nearness unsettled her entirely.
There was no mockery in his expression now.
Only scrutiny.
‘No,’ she said at once.
Her hand lifted unconsciously, only for her palm to press against the firm line of his chest. She meant to push him away, but instead she stilled, fingers splayed against his waistcoat.
Neither moved.
‘I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ she said, her voice softer now. ‘And now I am trying to get out of this mess.’
His gaze dropped briefly to where her hand rested.
A muscle tightened in his jaw.
He searched her eyes for a long moment—so intently that Charlotte felt as though he were reading her very soul. She was certain no one had ever looked at her quite that way before. It ought to have unnerved her. Instead, for reasons she could not entirely explain, she felt... understood.
She did not waver.
At last, after a long silence, he said quietly, ‘I believe you.’
She withdrew at once, stepping back sharply. She needed clarity.
‘Your interference nearly ruined weeks of work tonight,’ he murmured.
‘Oh really? My interference saved your life at the ball,’ she shot back.
A faint, reluctant admiration flickered across his expression.
‘You are remarkably unrepentant.’
‘That is because you are remarkably insufferable, your royal haughtiness.’
That earned the ghost of a smile.
‘I have been attempting to track the Odd Fellows’ operation for several months now,’ he said, pacing slowly before the hearth.
‘For several months... but that would mean...’
He halted before the fire and regarded her steadily. ‘I worked closely with Lord Armitage before he departed for India. I took over his work.’
Shocked, Charlotte stuttered, ‘B-but that would mean you know Grace Skye.’
His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I did help rescue her when Harry Averton kidnapped her and some other girls from her estate.’
Then he stepped closer, his brows furrowing in confusion.
‘You are not the Charlotte she spoke of so often?’ His expression cleared suddenly with understanding as she nodded shyly.
An incredulous smile spread across his face. ‘Such a small world. I am honoured to make your acquaintance.’ He bowed, looking faintly astonished.
‘So you have been pretending to be depraved all this time...’ She still could not quite believe it.
He inclined his head. ‘A necessary performance. After I received your letter, I saw an opportunity to infiltrate them. Deception, after all, is an art of war—and you may be certain I am waging war against these despicable men.’ He gave a quiet huff of disdain.
‘Wolverton believes me to be reckless, indulgent, and morally indifferent. It has required... dedication.’
‘If you have known about their involvement all this time, why did you not clear my name? Why did you name me as the prime suspect?’ Charlotte could not entirely keep the resentment from her tone.
‘I needed to find you and see for myself. I trust no one.’ A faint smile tugged at his mouth. ‘But I see now I made a mistake. You do seem to possess a remarkable talent for getting yourself into sticky situations. Had I known you were Grace Skye’s Charlotte...’
Charlotte suppressed a sigh of exasperation.
‘And the gambling?’ she demanded.
Pinching the bridge of his nose as though already wearied by her scepticism, he added, ‘Miss Walker, I take my faith seriously. I do not drink or gamble. Nor do I keep mistresses.’
‘I displayed my wealth to entice them.’ He paused, then added with quiet precision, ‘I am skilled at cards. I merely allow myself to lose from time to time, so as to appear reckless.’
‘And cutting off Mr Wilberforce’s funds?’
‘That too was for show. I arranged it with Wilberforce when we went riding together. Wolverton was meant to overhear our disagreement and carry it back to his associates—another means of gaining their trust.’
‘Did you succeed?’ she asked, unable to conceal her intrigue. Despite herself, she felt impressed.
‘Not entirely,’ he admitted. ‘But they are close. They believe I wish to collaborate.’
‘But is Mr Wilberforce not in danger now? Why would they not simply arrange for his demise?’
‘I think not. To kill Wilberforce would only make him a martyr and draw greater attention to his cause. They would sooner discredit him or render him powerless. But as a precaution, I have already arranged for him to leave the house party. He is to go into hiding until this matter is resolved.’
‘But what of Mrs Wilberforce and Tom? Are they not in danger?’
‘They are under watch. They have been since the beginning. They are safe.’
‘Oh.’
Charlotte fell silent.
The pieces, once scattered and incoherent, now aligned with quiet clarity. The recklessness, the vice, the calculated cruelty—it had all been an act.
Charlotte looked at him properly then: tall, imposing, and utterly unlike the man she had believed him to be only moments before.
Lord Stanley was, it seemed, an honourable man, after all.
He leaned against the mantel, his expression sharpening once more.
‘Now, if you have quite finished with your interrogation,’ he said, frowning slightly, ‘perhaps you would care to explain, Miss Walker, what you were doing skulking about the guest bedchambers at this hour of night?’
His tone hardened.
‘Do you realise the danger you placed yourself in? Had I not arrived when I did—’
‘I was growing desperate,’ she admitted. ‘I was searching for clues. Lord Boulton is one of them, by the by.’
She explained the ring and the rose emblem.
‘Impressive, Miss Walker. It seems I have greatly underestimated you.’
After a brief pause, he continued more quietly,
‘Until this house party ends, we must continue as before. I shall address you only as Miss Lucas. And you will continue as the governess. Afterwards, I will clear your name.’
His voice lowered, and the air subtly shifted.
‘However, I do not want you interfering further in this investigation. It is too dangerous—and I will not have it upon my conscience if harm comes to you.’
She wanted to argue.
But something in his tone brooked no opposition.
‘Very well,’ she said.
Unfortunately for Lord Stanley, Charlotte had never been particularly gifted at obedience.