Chapter 15 #2
Charlotte was merely part of a temporary arrangement. A complication. An employee with beautiful eyes and dangerous lips who somehow continuously invaded his thoughts.
Nothing more.
Yet when another gentleman leaned too close while speaking to her, Victor began crossing the ballroom before he consciously decided to move.
Charlotte looked up in surprise as he approached.
“Your Grace?”
Victor offered her his hand smoothly. “I believe this dance belongs to me.”
The gentleman beside her looked disappointed immediately.
Excellent.
Charlotte stared at Victor for half a second too long before slowly placing her gloved hand into his. Victor ignored the dangerous satisfaction curling warmly inside him as he led her onto the dance floor.
This is becoming a serious problem indeed.
* * *
Charlotte could feel his warmth as he held her in his arms as they danced.
“You seem flushed,” he said with a smirk.
“It is merely warm in here, nothing more,” she said.
Is it so obvious that he affects me so?
“Are you having a good time?” he asked.
“I am. I am happy to see my sisters so diverted and able to be in society as they should,” she said. His hand wrapped around hers as he twirled her with the cadence of the other couples.
“I see. Though I did not ask if you were happy for your sisters, I asked if you were having a good time. You and only you,” he said.
Charlotte noticed his eyes darken as his gaze moved to her lips, waiting for an answer. It had been so long since anyone cared about her happiness. Whether or not she was having a good time. She felt perplexed by this question.
“I…I suppose I am having a pleasant time, Your Grace,” she said.
“I should think so with the amount of suitors filling your dance card,” he said.
The statement shocked Charlotte. “You noticed?”
“I believe everyone has noticed,” he said, but before she could respond, the dance ended.
“I shall escort you to your mother,” he said.
He placed his arm out, and she took it as he walked her through the couples toward the refreshments.
Why had he noticed I danced with so many? Had he been watching?
“Your Grace,” Harriet curtsied as they approached.
Victor bowed, “I have brought your daughter back to you. Now, if you ladies will excuse me.” Then he walked away.
Charlotte stood there, confused by the entire situation. She was handed a cup of punch by a servant. Her gloved fingers curled around a delicate crystal cup of punch as she watched Victor walk away.
I do not understand that man and perhaps never will.
The ballroom swirled with movement and colour.
Candlelight gleamed across polished marble floors while musicians played from the raised gallery, their violins filling the grand room with lively music.
Ladies in silks and satin drifted past like bright flowers in bloom, while gentlemen bowed and smiled with practiced charm.
For the first time in many years, Charlotte felt as though her family truly belonged amongst them.
Harriet sighed dramatically. “Look at Joan laughing with that gentleman near the windows, and Irene has danced six times already.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I declare, I could expire from relief this very evening.”
Charlotte laughed softly. “Please do not expire at the Dawsons’ ball, Mother. It would quite ruin the festivities.”
“You mock me now,” Harriet said, though her mouth twitched with amusement. “But you do not understand the joy of seeing my daughters finally noticed properly.”
Charlotte’s gaze drifted across the ballroom toward her sisters.
Joan was indeed laughing loudly beside a red-haired gentleman who looked both enchanted and slightly frightened by her.
Irene glided gracefully through a dance with a viscount’s son, every movement elegant and poised.
Penelope stood near the orchestra speaking animatedly with two young officers, both of whom looked moments away from complete ruin.
“It is going well,” Charlotte admitted quietly.
“It is going magnificently,” Harriet corrected. “And it is all because of the Duke of Mulford.”
Charlotte’s cheeks warmed at the mention of Victor. “Yes, well, His Grace has been… generous.”
“Generous?” Harriet nearly choked upon the word. “The man has transformed our fortunes in a fortnight.”
Before Charlotte could answer, a gentleman approached and bowed deeply. “Miss Brown, might I have the honour of the next dance?”
Charlotte blinked at him in surprise. He was pleasant enough, with sandy hair and kind eyes, but her instinctive response rose immediately. “I thank you, sir, but I am engaged in conversation.”
The gentleman bowed again, though disappointment crossed his face before he walked away.
Harriet stared at her daughter in horror. “Charlotte Brown.”
“What?” Charlotte asked defensively.
“You refused him.”
“I was speaking with you, mama,” she said.
“You could have spoken with me after the dance.” Harriet lowered her voice sharply. “If you are not truly engaged to the duke, then you ought to think of your own future happiness.”
Charlotte nearly laughed at the absurdity of the statement. “My future happiness?”
“Yes, your future happiness,” Harriet repeated. “Surely there is at least one gentleman in this room you might favour if you gave him a chance. You have already danced with many; what is one more?”
Charlotte stared at her mother for a moment, genuinely startled.
The thought had honestly never crossed her mind.
Since her father’s death, her life had become lists and budgets and sacrifice, all thoughts of marriage tucked quietly away beside childish dreams and pretty ribbons.
Her sisters had always been the priority, and somewhere along the way, Charlotte had stopped imagining anything else for herself.
Harriet softened slightly. “You are still young, Charlotte.”
“I am six and twenty,” Charlotte said quietly to her mother so as not to be overheard.
“You say that as though you are eighty.”
Charlotte huffed into her punch. “In society terms, I may as well be an old maid.”
“Nonsense,” Harriet said briskly. “You are beautiful, intelligent, and well spoken. Men are staring at you all evening.”
Charlotte almost glanced toward Victor before catching herself. “They are staring because they think I am engaged to a duke.”
“Well,” Harriet said dryly, “it is an excellent beginning.”
“Mother…” Charlotte sighed. She knew that she would not get out of this conversation without being greatly annoyed.
“Oh, do stop saying it in that tone.” Harriet leaned closer. “If you ask me, the duke looks at you far too much for this to be entirely false.”
Charlotte nearly inhaled punch. “He does not.”
Harriet raised a brow. “Then why does he appear ready to murder every gentleman who approaches you?”
Charlotte looked up instinctively and froze.
Across the ballroom, Victor stood beside Elizabeth, speaking with Mr. Dawson, yet his green eyes were fixed directly upon her.
Even from the distance, his expression looked dark and unreadable.
The moment he noticed her watching him, one corner of his mouth lifted into that infuriatingly handsome smirk.
Charlotte quickly looked away.
“Oh dear,” Harriet murmured knowingly.
Before Charlotte could defend herself, Joan swept toward them like a storm in silk. “Charlotte, you shall never guess what Lady Pembroke said to me.”
Harriet sighed. “Good heavens. Brace yourselves.”
“She said Lord Henshaw has been asking who I am all evening.” Joan grinned triumphantly. “Apparently, he enjoys opinionated women.”
Penelope appeared at Joan’s shoulder. “That is fortunate, because there is nothing else available.”
Joan gasped. “You wicked creature.”
“It is true,” Penelope said cheerfully. “You terrified that poor man near the refreshments.”
“He adored me,” Joan said.
“He looked frightened for his life,” Penelope laughed.
Irene joined them moments later, graceful and serene as ever. “Would you all stop squabbling in the middle of the ballroom? People are staring.”
“They are staring because we are dazzling,” Joan declared.
“They are staring because Penelope nearly tripped a footman,” Irene corrected.
Penelope looked unapologetic. “He recovered splendidly.”
Charlotte could not stop herself from laughing as her sisters gathered around her in a noisy cluster. The sound of them together warmed her chest painfully. She had missed this terribly during their time apart.
Penelope grabbed Charlotte’s arm excitedly. “This is the finest ball I have ever attended.”
“It is also the only proper ball you have attended,” Joan pointed out.
“And yet my statement remains true,” she said.
Irene smiled softly at Charlotte. “Everything is beautiful. The flowers, the music, the supper room.”
“The gentlemen,” Joan added promptly.
Penelope nodded solemnly. “Particularly the gentlemen.”
Harriet pinched the bridge of her nose. “I shall develop a headache before midnight.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself. “Have any particular gentlemen stood out?”
“Oh yes,” Joan said immediately. “Lord Henshaw danced twice with me and said my laugh was infectious.”
Penelope snorted. “That was a polite way of saying loud.”
Joan ignored her entirely. “And Mr. Walters asked whether I enjoyed hunting.”
“You told him you once chased a chicken through the garden with a broom,” Irene said.
“It demonstrated ambition,” Joan said.
“It demonstrated madness,” Irene laughed.
Charlotte laughed again as Joan glared dramatically at her sisters.
“What of you, Irene?” Harriet asked hopefully.
Irene blushed faintly. “Lord Edwin is very pleasant.”
Joan groaned loudly. “Pleasant. Irene, if you marry a pleasant man, I shall perish from boredom.”
“He was kind,” Irene defended softly. “And he spoke very sweetly about his mother.”
Penelope shuddered theatrically. “That does sound dreadful.”
“You are impossible,” Irene said, though she smiled.
Harriet turned eagerly toward Penelope. “And who has caught your interest?”
Penelope grinned wickedly. “Two officers invited me riding tomorrow.”
Harriet looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”
“Why ever not?” Penelope huffed.
“Alone? With two officers, your reputation will be ruined before the season has even begun. Officers are charming and disastrous,” Harriet said.
“That only makes them more entertaining.” Penelope smiled.
Charlotte shook her head affectionately as the argument continued around her.
She watched her sisters glowing beneath candlelight, laughing freely in beautiful gowns that had once seemed impossible to afford.
For years, she had feared they would fade quietly into obscurity because of circumstance and poverty.
Instead, tonight they shone. Her gaze drifted once more across the ballroom and landed on Victor. He still watched her from afar, his expression unreadable beneath the golden light. A strange warmth spread through her chest before she quickly pushed it aside.
He is a rake. A generous, infuriating, dangerously handsome rake. Do not forget that.