CHAPTER TWO

C harlotte turned to look over her shoulder at the evidently furious gentleman who stood glowering at her.

This, she assumed, was the not-monstrous Earl of Fenwick. Well, he looked fairly monstrous right now. She wondered for a moment if she should just make a run for it. But if she did, he’d only give chase, and her new friends would be cross that she’d lead their brother right to them.

So, she straightened and turned to face him, tilting her chin. He was staring down at her, exactly like the imposing governess his sisters had accused him of being, and she had the mad urge to laugh at the image. Because truthfully, she couldn’t imagine anyone looking less like a governess. She had never seen such an incredibly masculine-looking gentleman before. It was rather intimidating.

“G-good evening,” she stammered. “Pleasant party, isn’t it?” She sounded like a madwoman. A madwoman with no breeding, since she had addressed him as though they were old acquaintances and not strangers.

But then, he didn’t have the manners to return her greeting.

In his silence, she took the chance to dart her gaze over him. He was tall. Much taller than she was. Much taller than everyone she knew, as a matter of fact. Given the scowl currently stamped across his severe face, she couldn’t say that she saw any resemblance to the twins. The same jet-black hair, perhaps. But where the twins’ eyes were a pleasant greyish blue, his were startlingly cool, like chips of ice.

He was, she realized, despite his severeness, incredibly handsome. And incredibly put out.

He hadn’t spoken another word since his furious demand and Charlotte didn’t quite know what to do. Or say. The temptation to flee was growing stronger by the second. But then, she reminded herself, this man was not her brother. She didn’t owe him anything. And if he was as much of a stickler as his sisters claimed, he probably had little to no respect for her in any case.

She could not have said what came over her in that moment. An evening of actual, bone fide fun, perhaps. Or just a culmination of the past couple of years being treated as though she were no better than something found on the bottom of one’s shoe. But something made her bolder than she’d ever been in her life.

“Pleasant as this riveting conversation is, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me.” She dipped a small curtsy, hardly daring to believe her own audacity and swept around him, ready to hightail it back to the ballroom.

The earl, as it turned out, had other plans. She was mere inches from freedom when suddenly a hand, warm and coarse and unreasonably large, shot out and grabbed her upper arm. It wasn’t a hard hold, but the feel of it on the bare skin between her sleeve and gloves sent a shock of energy through Charlotte’s whole body.

“I have no idea who you are,” he gritted, his eyes flashing like icy fire. “But whatever you are up to with my hoydenish sisters will stop right now.”

Charlotte felt her temper flare at both his condescension and the accusation that she was ‘up to’ anything. She was, she supposed. But he didn’t know that. Just presumed.

“I’m not up to anything,” she said smoothly. “How should I know who your sisters are? Now, kindly unhand me.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Let me remind you. They’re the incorrigible little headaches I caught you escaping into the gardens with.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes right back. “I’m afraid you’ve quite lost me, mister?” She knew perfectly well that he was a lord, not a mister. But calling him my lord would give the game away.

If anything, his expression grew more thunderous. “I am the Earl of Fenwick,” he bit out. “But I suspect you knew that. And you are?”

“Oh, nobody worth remembering, my lord, ” she simpered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall return to my corner. If I were you, I’d follow suit. It wouldn’t do to be seen wandering someone’s private property. Good evening.”

With a jerk, she pulled her arm from his firm but gentle grasp, and then, before her legs gave out altogether, she darted for the ballroom, listening all the while for furious footsteps behind her.

To her unending relief, they didn’t come. Heart pounding, Charlotte returned to the rather limp party. Nothing like the elegant soirees she’d dreamed of attending. But at least she’d made some friends. A little younger than her perhaps, but they’d raised her spirits, something she never would have thought possible at these things.

As expected, nobody seemed to have missed her, and she dutifully took her place by the wall, her eyes trained on the door to the hallway. The earl, however, never made an appearance.

He had been terrifying, she thought. Big and broad and extremely grumpy. But then, it couldn’t be easy trying to corral two such young ladies as Harriet and Joanna. Charlotte felt a fledgling smile touch her lips as she thought of the girls hiding in the gardens.

The smile quickly disappeared however, when she saw Mr. Answel eyeing her up, his cheeks flushed, his cravat askew. No matter how many times she rebuffed the man, he always seemed to find her when he was foxed. Never able to gain entrée into the upper echelons of the beau monde, given that his money came from trade, he was absolutely determined to get himself a bride of Quality. So much so that even the daughter of a second son and sister of a disgraced woman would do. It was, at best, tedious, at worse, extremely uncomfortable.

Mercifully, she had managed to keep his interest a secret from her eagle-eyed Mama. For if Mama knew that someone, anyone was interested in wedding her, she’d jump at the chance. Her dreams of having titled sons-in-law had died the day Jane had fallen pregnant out of wedlock. Even if nobody could prove it, everybody suspected it, and that had been enough to decimate any chance of Charlotte marrying upwards. She’d come to terms with it. Accepted her fate as first wallflower, then spinster. But Mama had not. And neither, it seemed, had Hubert Answel.

“Miss Forrester. Have you been hiding from me?”

Charlotte grimaced up at him. He hadn’t bid her a good evening; he hadn’t bowed. He hadn’t even asked to take the seat next to her. No, instead he stood over her, amber liquid sloshing over the edge of a filled tumbler, his beady little eyes trained on her cleavage. Lord, he was a veritable pig.

“Not at all, Mr. Answel. I have been here. Like always.”

“Hmm. All alone again, I see.”

“Indeed.”

He suddenly plopped down beside her, lurching forward so that she had to lean away. The fumes emanating from him were enough to fell a horse.

“You know, we can change that.” He leered at her while she glared balefully back at him. “Oh, come now. Don’t be coy. Why don’t we find somewhere a little more private, hmm?”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, but thank you,” she answered as calmly as she could. What she wanted was to slap his face for his impudence, but of course, she couldn’t.

His snort made him sound as though he should be feeding from a trough. “Come now, Miss Forrester. I hardly think you need to worry about your reputation.”

Her temper flared. “I have never engaged in behavior that would sully my reputation, Mr. Answel. And I do not intend to start now.”

Technically, of course, that wasn’t true. But putting worms into teacups and helping young ladies escape their strict brothers wasn’t the same as what this knave was insinuating.

“No need to feel defensive, my dear. I am not opposed to making an honest woman of you, you know. Of course, I should like to know what I’d be getting in the bargain.”

Lord saves her from men; she groused internally. First the arrogant earl in the study and now this detestable boar.

And while the earl had been merely irritating and not grotesque, he’d still been boorish and unfriendly.

Her wandering thoughts of the earl came to a crashing halt when the drunkard lunged for her once more. It was all Charlotte could do not to screech as she jumped back. The brandy in his glass splashed out, landing all over her chest and dripping beneath the modest neckline of her gown. “My apologies,” he laughed, not sounding one bit sorry. “What a mess I’ve made. Why don’t I clean that up for you.”

He reached out, about to put his hands on her, in which case she’d have no choice but to slap him and cause a dreaded scene, when for the second time that evening, the tearaway twins appeared.

“Charlotte! We’ve been caught.”

“Yes, Jasper came and dragged us back in, but the good news is he’s so annoyed with us that he’s demanded we leave now.”

They shared an unladylike snort. “As though that is some sort of punishment.”

Mr. Anwel leapt to his feet to bow, clearly deciding that he was in the presence of ladies who deserved his respect. The twins completely ignored him.

“Anyway, we’re leaving now but you simply must join us tomorrow. We’re to go skating! Won’t that be gloriously fun? Do say you’ll come.”

“Harriet, Joanna.” The twins turned at the sound of Lord Fenwick’s stern voice. “The carriage is ready. Come.”

His stormy grey eyes darted to Charlotte’s, then dropped. It was a fleeting glance but for some reason, she felt it right to her toes. He took in what she assumed was the visibly ruined top of her gown and then wordlessly turned that glare onto Mr. Answel.

He looked so severe that Chalotte almost, almost felt sorry for the creature who’d doused her in the vile-smelling substance.

The smaller man didn’t even attempt to smooth over the awkward silence, just stood their pale faced and quaking.

After seconds and eons, Lord Fenwick returned his attention to Charlotte. “Do you not have a chaperone here this evening, Miss?”

“Forrester,” she bit out when she realized he was turning her little name game on her. Surely by now he’d found out from his sisters who she was. “And yes, my mother is here. She’s just, um, busy.”

How to explain that her mother always left her quite alone at these parties so she could ingratiate herself to anyone who would give her the time of day? It was too humiliating.

“Then allow me to escort you to her before we leave.” He might as well have offered to escort her to the moon, so shocked was she by the offer. Then when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp, white handkerchief, her surprise increased ten-fold.

Mumbling her thanks, she took the folded material and turned away to hastily wipe at the spill. Her gown would remain stained, but she futilely dabbed at it as best she could. When she turned back around, it was to the sight of Mr. Answel slinking off as the earl glowered at him, Joanna and Harriet making faces at his retreating back.

Feeling excruciatingly awkward, she held the kerchief back out to the stone-faced earl, but he shook his head. “Keep it,” he said brusquely. And though it was a kindness, he certainly didn’t make it sound like one. “Come along then.”

Charlotte didn’t know whether he addressed her, his sisters, or all three of them but she was inclined to follow regardless. Besides, she found herself being dragged by a smiling twin on each side. “Lord, that creature,” Harriet whispered.

“I thought Jasper was going to land him a facer,” Joanna replied gleefully. “So, Charlotte. You will come tomorrow? We’ll call on you. Do you have skates? If not it’s fine, we have some spare and I would imagine we’re a similar enough size for them to fit.”

“Oh, I.”

Any answer she would have given was cut off when she saw they’d arrived at her Mama and the ladies who seemed to be trying to ignore her presence. Mama’s eyes widened as the earl approached and bowed deeply. “Ladies, good evening.”

She watched in a grim sort of fascination as the older ladies simpered and blushed like schoolgirls from the attention. Weren’t they all terrified of him? But no, when she looked at his expression, she saw he was all charming smiles.

He had a beautiful smile, she noticed distractedly. With dimples, for goodness sake!

“Lord Fenwick,” the leader of the pack crooned. “And your lovely sisters.”

She pointedly ignored Charlotte, but it was nothing new. Still, she’d had quite enough of people annoying her tonight and so, while the ladies, Mama included, were gazing in adoration at the grumpy earl, Charlotte subtly stepped forward and made sure to trod on Lady Fennel’s cerulean skirts. She was delighted to see that Mr. Answel’s brandy had made her slippers slightly wet so there was now a delightfully unpleasant shoe print on the rude woman’s gown.

Shuffling back as subtly as possible, she looked up in time to see the earl’s eyes dart to the skirts. Her heart hammered as she wondered if he’d make some comment on her behavior. But he continued chatting as though it hadn’t happened.

Within moments he’d bowed once more, first to the older ladies and then, grudgingly, to her, displaying respect that nobody else bothered to. It didn’t count though, because she knew he didn’t mean it.

“Until tomorrow then, Charlotte,” Joanna called as they were led away.

The earl’s shoulders stiffened infinitesimally but he didn’t turn back. Still, it was fairly obvious that he wasn’t thrilled with his sisters’ plans to see her again.

Well, Charlotte thought, at least she’d made two new friends this evening. And, less happily, a new enemy.