Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Elsie gazed fondly up at him, and Charlotte fought an uncharitable wave of envy.
She had long since abandoned the notion of marriage, or at least of a love match.
But it stole over her just the same, seeing Elkington and Elsie so clearly devoted to one another.
She was painfully aware of the man at her side and fought the direction of her thoughts as they slid towards the intimacies they had shared.
“Lady Elsie exaggerates my role,” the duke replied. “Her mother has shouldered most of the planning. I have only been lending a hand where I may.”
“I am afraid I have been terribly neglectful. I am working to start a school, you see.” Elsie’s dark eyes practically glowed with animation as she explained to the ladies her plan for a school for young girls of all backgrounds, hoping to rival Eton’s curriculum.
“Since I am hardly ever in London, I had to take this opportunity to seek out interested sponsors for the venture.”
Charlotte was thoroughly charmed by the woman.
Her obvious passion for the cause and her genuine warmth and intelligence were a joy.
Maybe she would welcome a renewal of their acquaintance once Charlotte was settled up north.
Perhaps she even had the connections that Charlotte would need to find a position as a governess—or with her progressiveness, maybe even ties to journalism.
The thought was buoying despite the heaviness that came with the thought of leaving. Leaving Benjamin.
She glanced toward him and found him already watching her, his face inscrutable but fixed all the same. For a moment, their eyes held, and she felt the rush of feeling she was beginning to associate with his presence—or even the idea of him.
“Amelia, Lady Charlotte, you must come to the dinner my parents are hosting next week.” Elsie had clasped the duke’s hand and was practically beaming at both of them.
“It will be an intimate affair, really. Only some family and friends to celebrate our engagement. It would be so lovely if you joined us. Even Mr. Scarsdale will be there.”
Benjamin narrowed his eyes at that but said nothing.
Amelia was already nodding when Charlotte froze. “Oh no, I could not possibly.” It was the height of impoliteness to decline such a generously offered invitation, but Charlotte could see no way around it.
“Nonsense, you must come. If you and Amelia get on so well, you must meet my sisters.”
Charlotte could not accept. It was one thing to be squired about to the dark corners of a theatre or masquerade through a gaming hell as Benjamin's mistress, but it was a whole other thing to attend an intimate family function celebrating the love of his dear friend.
That was not something a mistress did. She opened her mouth to protest again.
“Yes. You should come.” Benjamin’s face was unreadable, but she sensed a challenge in his words.
A moment passed as she tried to get a better read of his mood. His intentions. She could not. “That is a very generous invitation. Thank you, I will gladly come.”
She bowed her head slightly, stealing another look at Benjamin from beneath her lashes. He was still watching her.
“Oh, is that Lord Rippon? Excuse me, dears. I must go say hello.” Amelia flounced away in a swirl of mauve silks. “See you next week, then.”
Elsie chuckled and waved goodbye.
“I believe that is our cue to go. You may still be able to read Helen another story, darling.” Elkington gently guided Elsie toward a break in the crowd. She looked up at him with hopeful eyes.
“Do you think it is not too late? I am worried she is still tired from their journey down.”
“Not if we make haste.” He smiled down at her and nodded to Charlotte and Benjamin. “Until next week.”
Elsie gave them both a little wave before disappearing into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the crowded gaming floor.
∞∞∞
She was beyond magnificent. Standing there in the deep green dress Benjamin had chosen for her, it was all he could do to take his eyes off her and scan the surrounding room, conscious of not allowing their exchange to draw too much attention.
Even with a domino, the gossips of London were sharp and eager to jump on the smallest whiff of scandal.
“Would you care to join a table? Hazard seems to be popular tonight.” He nodded toward the back of the floor where ladies and gentlemen were gathered over a particularly high-stakes game in progress.
Charlotte did not follow his gaze. She seemed quiet—withdrawn. Had something upset her?
“I do not approve of gambling, Mr. Scarsdale.”
He watched transfixed as she took a sip of champagne.
The delicate glass tilted between her soft, bowed lips.
Could he squire her away to his rooms already?
It seemed hasty. He did not want to rush her—wanted her to have a night of leisure and entertainment.
But the idea of having her in his rooms—in his bed.
Beyond the demanding physical desire, he craved being alone with her.
Being allowed to watch her and speak to her without monitoring their surroundings.
It all culminated in a physical ache that almost made him miss her question.
“Might we retire?” She was looking up at him, hopeful, almost timid, as if gauging his interest.
The force of his reaction was like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. Did she realise how desperately he wanted to haul her over his shoulder and run from the room that very moment?
“We—” He coughed, his words caught in his throat. “Of course, my lady. If that is what you would prefer.”
With that, he gave her a bow and turned into the throng of patrons, nodding to a footman who precipitously wound his way to escort the lady through the club.
Uninterested in delaying the encounter as he had the last time Charlotte had come to him here, he made his way directly to the other side of the floor and slipped through one of the many concealed doors.
He could only pray no sharp eyes had followed their subtle separation—for they would have seen the truth in every inch of his being.
Desperate longing.