Chapter 11
“Your Grace!” called Lord Everly warmly. “Wonderful to see you.”
Victor turned to see the eager man approaching.
And here we go. Let the games begin.
Victor escorted his grandmother slowly through the crowded foyer while Charlotte followed just behind them in the yellow gown he selected for her. He regretted the choice immediately.
Not because the gown lacked elegance. Quite the opposite. The soft gold silk transformed Charlotte into something far too noticeable. Candlelight warmed her dark hair beautifully while the fitted bodice and graceful skirts drew attention from nearly every gentleman they passed.
Victor found that deeply irritating.
Victor nodded politely. “Everly.”
The man bowed toward Elizabeth before offering Charlotte a distinctly interested smile. “And who might this lovely young lady be?”
Before Victor could answer, Elizabeth brightened immediately. “My grandson’s fiancée.”
Charlotte nearly stumbled over her own slippers. Victor closed his eyes briefly.
Wonderful.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Actually, ”
“Grandmother,” Victor interrupted smoothly, “Miss Brown is your companion.”
Elizabeth waved dismissively. “Nonsense.”
Lord Everly grinned outright. “Congratulations regardless, Mulford.”
Victor forced a polite smile that concealed growing frustration. “Thank you.”
As Everly departed, Charlotte moved slightly closer to Victor and lowered her voice. “This is going poorly.”
“Exceptionally poorly,” he said.
Victor leaned nearer until his mouth hovered close beside her ear. “Let us attempt once more to clear up this misunderstanding.”
Charlotte nodded quickly. “Agreed.”
The opera house glittered like something carved directly from wealth and vanity itself as they walked through.
Golden chandeliers blazed overhead in great clusters of candlelight while polished marble floors reflected the movement of silk gowns and shining black shoes across the foyer.
The low murmur of aristocratic conversation blended with distant orchestral tuning drifting from the theatre beyond.
Everywhere Victor looked, society paraded itself in jewels, lace, perfume, and carefully perfected smiles.
Elizabeth stayed close, but her attention was diverted to a few matrons next to her.
Victor straightened just as Mr. and Mrs. Dawson approached him through the crowd.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Dawson greeted warmly.
“Mrs. Dawson,” Victor replied smoothly. “Mr. Dawson.”
The older couple smiled politely before glancing immediately toward Charlotte with obvious curiosity.
Perfect.
Victor gestured calmly toward her. “May I introduce Miss Charlotte Brown?”
Charlotte offered a graceful curtsey. “Good evening.”
“She is employed within my household,” Victor continued carefully. “As companion to my grandmother.”
Mr. Dawson nodded solemnly. Then winked. “Yes,” he said. “Of course. A hired companion.”
Charlotte visibly choked on air.
Mrs. Dawson smiled knowingly. “How modern.”
Victor stared at them in disbelief. “I assure you… ”
“Quite unnecessary,” Mrs. Dawson interrupted kindly.
Mr. Dawson grinned broadly. “Young love requires no explanation.”
Then the pair drifted away, looking thoroughly entertained. Charlotte looked horrified.
Victor rubbed slowly at his temple. “Remarkable.”
“They think we are lying,” Charlotte said.
“They think we are flirting,” Victor replied.
Charlotte made a distressed sound beneath her breath. “This is a disaster.”
Victor glanced sideways at her. “You are taking this surprisingly seriously for a woman who accidentally became engaged in Hyde Park.”
She frowned sharply. “You are enjoying this far too much for a man supposedly desperate to avoid matrimony.”
I'll ignore that. Mostly because she is not entirely wrong.
Over the next quarter hour, Victor attempted repeatedly to clarify matters.
Unfortunately, every explanation only seemed to convince society further that the engagement existed.
His grandmother spent her time mingling nearby, but not with Victor and Charlotte, which only made them look more like a couple.
“Miss Brown serves as my grandmother’s companion,” Victor said to yet another aristocrat.
“How… delightful,” the man said hesitantly.
“There is no engagement,” Victor said sternly. “My grandmother is confused.”
“Ah yes, naturally,” the aristocrat said.
Charlotte’s expression grew more pained with each interaction.
Victor, meanwhile, found himself drifting steadily from annoyance toward reluctant amusement.
The ton clearly believed the pair of them played some elaborate romantic game.
Nobody looked suspicious or scandalized.
If anything, society seemed charmed by the entire situation.
Which is frankly absurd.
Victor turned just in time to spot Elizabeth conversing happily with Lady Whitmore and two elderly gentlemen near the staircase.
“And naturally,” Elizabeth announced proudly, “Victor finally proposed.”
Victor stopped walking immediately. Charlotte froze beside him.
Lady Whitmore gasped delightedly. “At last!”
One of the gentlemen laughed. “About time, Mulford.”
Charlotte covered her eyes briefly with one gloved hand. Victor exhaled slowly through clenched teeth.
“This is impossible,” he muttered.
Charlotte lowered her hand miserably. “I am so sorry. It seems in denying it we are only giving them something else to talk about.”
“It is hardly your fault, no need to apologize. I allowed this charade to go on for the sake of my grandmother, and now I must suffer the consequences,” he said.
He watched as Charlotte's smile fell from his face.
Suffer the consequences… Why did I word it in such a cruel way?
Though some bitter part of him wondered if they would ever untangle this disaster now. Everywhere he looked, people smiled approvingly at Charlotte. Gentlemen bowed too low. Older ladies examined her with growing approval. Young debutantes whispered jealousy behind fans.
And increasingly, Victor noticed the men.
That became another problem entirely. A blond viscount lingered too long during introductions.
A younger lord stared openly at Charlotte while pretending to listen to Victor speak.
One particularly irritating baron smiled at her with enough admiration to make Victor irrationally annoyed.
Ridiculous. She is merely an employee, and they admire her as though she is an heiress.
Victor frowned faintly at the sudden unpleasant feeling twisting low in his stomach.
Jealousy? No, absurd.
He did not want Charlotte. Certainly not in any permanent or meaningful sense. She merely intrigued him because she argued with him constantly and remained strangely unimpressed by his title.
That is all. Then why exactly do I dislike seeing other men admire her?
Victor immediately rejected the thought. Nonsense.
“Your Grace?”
Charlotte’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He glanced toward her. “Hm?”
“You are glaring at that poor man,” she whispered.
Victor blinked. “Which man?”
“The one speaking to Lady Ashford.”
Victor realized abruptly he had indeed been staring murderously at a harmless gentleman across the foyer. Why? Because that man had been eyeing Charlotte since they arrived.
“I was not glaring,” he said.
Charlotte raised one brow. “You looked moments away from challenging him to pistols.”
Victor adjusted his cuffs calmly. “Perhaps his face offends me.”
To his irritation, Charlotte laughed softly. The sound caught him off guard again.
“You are impossible,” she murmured.
“And yet you continue standing beside me,” he smirked at her.
“I have little choice in the matter, though it has not escaped my attention that this has become your favorite phrase… You continue to stand beside me, or continue to stay,” she teased.
Have I said this so often?
Victor furrowed his brow slightly. Then he offered her his arm as an attempt to distract from the subject. Charlotte hesitated only briefly before accepting it. The warmth of her gloved fingers against his sleeve sent another deeply unwelcome awareness through him.
Damnation.
“Smile,” Victor murmured quietly.
Lord and Lady Pembroke arrived. “Mulford,” Lord Pembroke greeted warmly. “Congratulations.”
Victor responded automatically now. “There has been some misunderstanding.”
“Indeed,” Pembroke agreed cheerfully. “My wife and I had precisely the same misunderstanding before our wedding.”
Charlotte looked ready to surrender entirely. Lady Pembroke squeezed Charlotte’s hand sympathetically. “Men always pretend reluctance at first.”
Victor stared blankly as the couple moved along.
“This is becoming unbearable,” Charlotte whispered.
Victor looked toward his grandmother once more. Elizabeth sat happily surrounded by acquaintances while proudly discussing wedding flowers with alarming enthusiasm.
He sighed. “We shall never correct this tonight. I believe we are making it worse,” he admitted.
Charlotte looked stricken. “Then what do we do?”
Victor should have answered sensibly. Instead, his gaze drifted briefly across her face illuminated beneath the opera lights. The yellow gown suited her absurdly well. Her eyes remained bright despite obvious distress, and the soft flush in her cheeks only made her more noticeable.
Beautiful.
The thought arrived swiftly and inconveniently. Victor immediately pushed it aside. Dangerous direction.
“You need not look so horrified,” he said lightly.
Charlotte stared at him. “Half of London believes I am engaged to you, and I am not, of course; I am horrified.”
Victor offered his arm once more as the orchestra bell rang faintly through the foyer, announcing the performance would begin shortly.
“Come along then,” he said smoothly. “Since society insists we are desperately in love, we may as well attend the opera properly.”
Charlotte groaned softly but accepted his arm anyway.
And despite every instinct warning him otherwise, Victor found he did not mind that nearly enough.
* * *