CHAPTER TEN

As evening fell, many of London’s social class arrived at the Pembrooke’s Summer ball.

The streets outside their magnificent town-house were a sea of silks, pearls, and jewels as far as the eye could see. The coachmen were hollering to one another as horses got stuck in the middle of the square and more and more people began arriving.

Charlotte entered the ballroom on her father’s arm, looking about her at the sheer volume of people who had arrived. She couldn’t believe that the Pembrooke’s even knew this many people, let alone had invited them to their home. The stairs behind her outside of the ballroom were heaving with people, and laughter and smoke were heavy in the air.

The room itself was glittering in crystal, bejewelled candlelight, but as she looked about her, only one face caught her eye amidst the throng. Charlotte felt a thrill shoot through her as, across the room, she saw the Duke of Lindenbrook standing beside Malcolm and Lord Edward Hayesworth.

He looked even more dashing today, his darker skin tone complimented by a high cream cravat that kissed the edge of his hair at the back of his neck. He was much taller than many of the men in the room, and as he looked about him, his gaze settled on Charlotte, and there it caught and held.

For the longest, breathtaking moment, their eyes were locked together, the bright green of the duke’s mixing with the blue-green of her own. She had an absurd thought that the colours would complement one another when seen side by side.

As soon as it had arrived, however, the moment was shattered as her father began to complain rather too loudly about the crush. He had already drunk two glasses of port before he left the house and had been in a very bad humour all day.

On the other side of the room, where she stood at the refreshment table, Elizabeth noted the brief moment of connection between Lady Wentworth and her cousin. Hiding her smile behind her glass of orgeat, she could only feel happy for him.

Colin had never been one to show his emotions; indeed, for much of her childhood, she had believed he had none. Whenever she had spent any time with the Ludlows, the shadow of his father had always seemed to loom large in Colin’s vision. He was a quiet, uniquely intelligent child, but his father had never been happy about anything he did. Elizabeth’s own parents were doting by comparison, and she had often observed how awkward Colin seemed whenever her mother showed heightened emotion around him.

But she knew that beneath the rather guarded exterior was a man who was deeply loyal, sharply witty, and one of the kindest men she had ever known. And—knowing him as she did—she was determined to help this young love blossom. Elizabeth had only needed to observe them for a few hours at the markets, to see Lady Wentworth’s regard for her cousin. Whenever they spoke together, there was an irrepressible spark between them that could not be missed.

To that end, Elizabeth began to walk through the crowd toward her target. Lady Wentworth was standing awkwardly beside her father—the Marquess of Wensingdale looking positively furious at the number of people jostling him.

Elizabeth was about to interrupt them and pull Lady Wentworth away when two figures materialized in the crowd, thwarting her attempt and making her fingers tighten unpleasantly around her glass.

Charlotte was most hopeful that her father would go to find the card room and leave her to herself for much of the evening, but when Lady Norwell and Lady Lavinia snaked through the crowd toward her, she was most glad of his company.

“Good evening, Lady Wentworth,” Lady Norwell simpered. “Why I can barely spend two days together without us bumping into one another.”

To her dismay, as soon as he felt she was suitably occupied, her father bowed to Lady Norwell and told Charlotte he would join her a little later. She was then left in the middle of the two women, and the world about her seemed to shrink so that there was nowhere else for her to turn.

With a tight smile, she drew out her fan and fluttered it before her face. “Quite. Did you enjoy the rest of your time in Gunter’s?”

“Oh yes,” Lady Norwell said. It seemed now that Charlotte’s father had gone, her eyes had hardened slightly. “I always enjoy Gunter’s. It must be pleasant for you, to experience London through the eyes of your friends. When you have spent such a long time in the country, any simple confectionery must be positively exotic .”

Charlotte stared at her. She wasn’t reading into her words now; that had been deliberately rude.

“It is odd, is it not Mama,” Lavinia added, “how long it takes some people to get accustomed to the city. They are like trees who are used to living in wide green fields.” Lavinia’s tone was light, but she looked very pointedly at Charlotte as she spoke. “Some might be overly eager to put down roots before they understand the nature and quality of the soil upon which they stand. Indeed, they might find that they are much more suited to another plot entirely.”

Charlotte remained very still, watching Lavinia’s calculating expression sharpen in triumph as she made her point very plain. Charlotte could not help her eyes drifting over to the duke again as he continued to speak to Malcolm, and the message Lavinia was giving her could not have been more obvious.

“You are quite right, my dear,” Lady Norwell concluded. “It takes us all a while to find our true place in the world.”

Charlotte’s face grew hot at the obvious attack, and she was at a loss as to what to say.

“How right you are,” came a voice from behind them as Elizabeth inserted herself between Lady Norwell and Charlotte, looping her arm around hers and squeezing just a little. “I had no idea you were interested in botany, Lady Lavinia,” Elizabeth said to Lavinia. “I myself am fascinated by plants and amazed what beauty can bloom, even in the most hostile environments.”

Lady Norwell’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but she simply flicked her own fan, fluttering it wildly and too close to Elizabeth’s face, and led Lavinia away.

For a few moments, there was silence between the two women, and then Elizabeth made a noise like a growl in the back of her throat.

“What horrible little women they are,” she said with feeling. “Do not pay any attention to them, Lady Wentworth. I heard what they had to say, and I can tell you quite easily that it is utter nonsense.”

Charlotte smiled gratefully but still felt shaken by the encounter. “Thank you for your intervention. I was not sure what to say. They are very careful to be one way in public and another when they do not believe themselves to be observed.”

“All the best members of society, and by best , I mean the most persistent, are masters at that. You only need to appear acceptable in this world, you see. You do not need to be so in reality.”

As they moved through the crowd, Charlotte caught sight of the duke again, but this time, he was speaking to Lavinia and Lady Norwell. His posture was rather rigid, and his hands held stiffly behind his back, but the faint smile on his face made something unpleasant uncoil in her gut.

She longed to go to him and to see his face soften as it had at the bookshop. But it would be impossible to approach him alone in the crowded ballroom; she could not show any outward interest that might attract the attention of the gossip mongers. Besides, she had almost entirely convinced herself that he had no interest in her.

“I must say, the duke seems very affected by your presence here tonight,” Elizabeth said quietly. “He asked me no less than three times if you were in attendance. I am sure he will come and speak to us shortly. He is very unpleasantly occupied at present.”

Charlotte’s neck grew hot at Elizabeth’s words, worried that she might have allowed some of her own feelings for the duke too close to the surface. She was just about to ask Lady Ludlow what she meant by them when a figure walked in front of her that almost made her groan aloud.

Lord Kilby grinned down at them, looking handsome in his dark evening wear. The same loose smile on his face and an interest in his gaze as his eyes flicked incessantly between Charlotte and Elizabeth.

“Are you engaged for the next set, Lady Wentworth?” he asked swiftly, and Charlotte could not prevent her arm from tightening around Elizabeth as though her newfound ally might be able to dance with her instead.

“I am not,” she answered honestly, unable to think of a suitable excuse to prevent the inevitable.

“Capital!” he said, with what appeared to be genuine happiness. “Is your father here tonight?”

As though I would have attended the ball alone.

“He is my Lord; I believe he is in the card room.”

“Wonderful, I shall be sure to seek him out. But first. I believe I owe you a dance, Lady Wentworth.”

With a helpless glance at Elizabeth, she followed him onto the floor. Many other couples were also standing up about them, and Charlotte’s chest tightened when she saw that the duke had not just been speaking with Lavinia Norwell but was now dancing with her, too.

Charlotte let her eyes drift over Lavinia’s figure. She was dressed in the latest fashion with the finest fabrics money could buy. From her brief time back in society, Charlotte knew Lavinia was a famed beauty and she could understand the appeal. Lavinia was tall like her mother, with very dark hair that looked almost black. It shimmered in the candlelight, and her sharp features, though rather pinched, were alluring in their own way.

No wonder the duke would look at her. She is the daughter of a duke, as well, and she is just what he might be looking for in a wife.

She was surprised by how unhappy the thought made her. It was the first time that her feelings for the duke became truly evident to her.

It was easy to convince herself in the privacy of her bedchamber or even in her own heart that she did not care for him. But when she felt her breath catch in his presence and the pain of seeing him with another, it was much harder to deny.

Across the dance floor, Colin experienced a pain of his own as he watched Lady Wentworth stand up with Lord Kilby. They made a handsome couple, Lord Kilby’s easy smile flashing as he held her in his arms.

“The music this evening is rather sombre, do you not think your Grace?” Lady Lavinia asked as he turned them about the room.

“Indeed,” he replied trying to keep the boredom from his voice. “Do you play an instrument, Lady Lavinia?”

“Of course,” she said rather haughtily, “I play the pianoforte, the harp, and the violin. Music is a particular passion of mine.”

Colin did not doubt that she played all three perfectly. She was the type of woman who had been bred for society, identical to hundreds of others trying to ensnare a husband in just the right way.

Lavinia Norwell is nothing like Lady Wentworth—her whole identity is entirely her own.

Lady Norwell was cool and emotionless on the dance floor, just as he had known she would be. She reminded him of her mother—high-handed to a fault and cruel when she believed no one was listening.

Colin could not wait to escape the dance floor and head to dinner. Lord Kilby and Lady Wentworth passed them at that moment, and Lord Kilby laughed at something she said. Colin’s own spirits lowered considerably at the sound—if only I had approached her sooner, I could be holding her in my arms at this moment instead.

***

As the ball drew to a close and the couples left the dance floor to make their way to the dinner tables, Charlotte found that she had been placed beside Lord Kilby, much to her distaste.

“It seems we are destined to spend time with one another this evening,” he said blithely as he pulled out her chair for her as Charlotte sat down, trying to keep her displeasure from her face.

She could not believe that this seating arrangement was not by design. The duke was at the far end of the table beside the Norwells, speaking quietly to Lady Norwell as Lavinia leaned in to hear his every word.

Charlotte tried to listen to Kilby’s continuous prattle as the dinner commenced, but the man rarely paused for breath unless chewing too loudly on his food or taking a sip of wine.

She was acutely aware of the duke at the other end of the table, listening for his laugh and casting furtive glances in his direction to see if that soft smile played over his lips as it had at Gunter’s. The idea that he might be interested in Lavinia was deeply unsettling, and the feelings of unhappiness she had tried to suppress were growing with each passing minute.

Her only reassurance in the whole affair was that, more often than not, when she did seek him out, his eyes would meet hers almost immediately. That delicate thread of connection between them would grow taut again, and even amidst a throng of well-dressed company, there existed a palpable tension between them that she could not dismiss.