Chapter 19 #3
Despite Charlotte’s anxieties, Anthony released her hand and took Lord Drayton’s.
“It is benevolent of you, my lord,” he said.
“Nonsense.” Their hands clasped, then released. “I know as well as any that a man cannot control the actions of his family. Some men are just bad apples.”
The vein in Anthony’s temple pulsed, and Charlotte’s heartbeat sped.
“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Look. Another set is forming! Will you not ask me to dance, my lord?”
Lord Drayton looked at her with a smile. “Gladly, if you will accept.” He put out a hand, and she placed hers in it with a quick glance at Anthony—a glance that reaffirmed to her that it was time to put distance between Lord Drayton and him.
Lord Drayton led her to the middle of the ballroom floor, where they took their places amongst the still-forming set.
“It was very magnanimous of you, my lord,” she said as they stood across from one another. “With your words, you have relieved a great burden from his shoulders.”
“It was my pleasure.” As the music began, he lowered into a bow. “Almost as great a pleasure as it is to dance with you.”
Charlotte’s cheeks grew warm, but she tried to take the flattery with good grace.
She wanted him to like her well enough to invite her to his party, after all.
She simply had to ignore the fact that she was dancing with a murderer and the man whose conspiring and disregard for anyone but himself had put her in the impossible situation she was in.
“My sentiments precisely,” she lied as they drew together for the first figures of the dance.
Her lies continued as they spoke whenever the dance allowed it.
She attempted a few subtle compliments, and the result convinced her of what she had suspected: like so many men in positions of power, Lord Drayton was inclined to surround himself with those who made him feel as important and remarkable as he found himself.
Perhaps it would not take so much time before she could elicit an invitation.
She chanced a glance at Anthony for a dose of encouragement.
He still stood near the refreshment table, his hard eyes watching the two of them in a way that made her eager to engage Lord Drayton in conversation.
If he glanced at Anthony just now, nothing Anthony could say would persuade him he was not detested.
“Tell me, Lord Drayton,” she said. “Shall we be fortunate enough to see you at Astley’s next week?
I have been assured that everyone who matters will be in attendance, which tells me you must be at the top of the list.” The levels her flattery had reached nauseated her, but she persisted in spite of it, for she had a goal to achieve.
Lord Drayton kept his eyes fixed on her as they clasped hands and turned in a circle. “Almost you convince me to postpone my engagements. I might have delayed them had I been aware of your intentions.”
“Might you not still?”
He chuckled. “I rather think the guests I have invited to my estate would miss their host, so I will not, regrettably, have the pleasure of seeing you there.”
“How disappointing,” she replied, arranging her expression into something pitiful and disappointed. “How long shall you be away?”
“Ten days, perhaps,” he replied. “Barrington Hall is not so far.”
“Barrington Hall?” she repeated. “Is that your estate?”
He nodded.
She laughed wonderingly. “I have heard many tales of its marvelous sculpture garden—often enough that I tried to persuade my aunt to see whether we might have a tour when we were last passing.”
The gratified expression she had become familiar with over the course of the dance graced his face.
“I am delighted to know you enjoy sculptures, Miss Mandeville, and, supposing I was there at the time, I sincerely regret that your aunt did not indulge your fancy. I would have gladly offered you a tour myself.”
“I shall never forgive my aunt. She was adamant it would be an intrusion at best.”
“I could never regard you as an intrusion,” he replied.
She smiled, though her hands itched to slap the man. How could he adopt such ingratiating manners in the bright light of a ballroom while committing such heinous deeds in the darkness?
“Well,” she said as they performed the final figures, “I quite envy you, for a stay in the country sounds sublime after the crowds of London.”
The implicit request in her tone was glaringly obvious, and the moment the words left her lips, she regretted them, for Lord Drayton’s smile flickered.
She had gone too far, become too bold. Refined woman of Lord Drayton’s acquaintance would never say something so desperate or tasteless. They did not seek invitations, for they came in abundance.
The violins drew out the last notes of the song, and it was everything Charlotte could do to keep her head held high as they bowed and curtsied to one another.
“I find this dancing has tired me, Miss Mandeville,” Lord Drayton said. “Shall we forgo the second song of the set?”
Charlotte nodded with a smile plastered on her lips, but as Lord Drayton led the way back to Anthony, she knew she had misstepped, putting their plan in jeopardy.