James stared across the numerous guests at the Washburn Ball, wondering what on earth he was doing there. Why had he felt the urge to attend when he’d avoided all formal gatherings up until this point, with the exception of one?
Then again, he knew exactly why he was there. No purpose would be served in lying to himself.
Charlotte was the reason.
He hadn't been able to get her out of his thoughts since the museum visit. One moment, he was berating himself for kissing her and the next he was berating himself for not kissing her longer.
He had obviously lost his mind.
Even worse was the evening he’d spent with Edward after that kiss. Somehow it felt as though if Edward looked at him long enough, he'd realize James had kissed his sister. He could only imagine how angry his friend would be if he discovered what had happened.
The concern over jeopardizing their friendship should have been enough to keep him away from Charlotte and the ball. Was he here just to make certain she was well? If so, one look at her—even from a distance—should be enough to ease the concern. But he feared viewing her from afar wouldn't be enough.
Had he come to reassure himself that she didn’t intend to venture out with Palmer again? He latched onto the idea with both hands. That had to be the reason. The tension in his shoulders eased at the logical concern.
From what Edward had mentioned, Charlotte would be marrying soon. While not unusual for a father to select his daughter’s future husband, he was surprised that Charlotte had no say in the matter and taken aback that Edward wasn’t bothered by it. No wonder she wished to have a few adventures beforehand. Was it so wrong of him to make certain she did so safely? If he ignored the voice in the back of his head, the reason almost rang true.
James made his way through the crowd, nodding at a few people he recognized but only stopping to speak to one or two. He continued forward again only to pause at the sight of Lord Palmer standing in his path. He only knew his identity as a friend had pointed out Palmer at a gaming hell recently.
“Redmond.” The tall man dipped his head in greeting, his slick smile enough to put James on edge. A carefully placed lock of pale hair fell over his brow. The points of his collar were so high, he surely couldn’t turn his head. How the lord knew him, James didn’t know.
“Palmer.” He had no desire to speak to the man though he was tempted to discover if he and Charlotte planned another outing if only to put a halt to it.
“I'm rather surprised to see you here,” Palmer said. He raised a brow. “Isn't there some gaming hell calling to you this evening? I understand those kinds of establishments are your preference.”
James smiled politely despite his longing to place a fist in the man’s face. “One might say the same of you. The evening is young. That still might occur. Have you seen Lady Charlotte?”
“What makes you ask?” Palmer almost appeared startled by the question. Had he hoped to keep his actions secret?
“I thought perhaps you intended to escort her to another inappropriate party.” James allowed anger to color his tone. Someone had to make it clear to the lord that what he had done was terribly wrong.
Palmer smiled. “I hardly think escorting her and my sister to a gathering is cause for alarm.”
“It is when those in attendance are of your ilk.”
Palmer scowled. “Why are you suddenly playing the role of her protector? Surely her brother should be doing so.”
James had no intention of revealing that Edward didn't know what had happened. He preferred to have Palmer believe Edward knew as well.
“I hope we don't hear of another such outing.” James held Palmer's gaze for a long moment. “I would hate for any harm to come to the lady or her reputation. If it does, you will pay dearly.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m certain there’s no need for such drastic action. No doubt you have the lady's best interests at heart and don’t wish any harm to befall her.” James glared at him for a long moment to make certain his words sank in before stepping around the lord to continue on his way.
How foolish of him to allow Palmer to upset him. If the man mentioned anything to Edward, that would only raise more questions. James needed to hold on to his temper as best he could. Yet he didn’t regret warning the man. Surely it was better that he realized someone was taking notice of his activities with Charlotte.
The lady who tangled his thoughts caught his notice a short distance away, speaking with her friend, Margaret Gold. His vision narrowed to her. He made his way closer, much like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to keep his distance. Involving himself with her would only cause problems, yet his body refused to listen.
Then she turned and her gaze met his, a look of surprise quickly followed by delight lighting her face. His entire being warmed from the inside out at her expression. He etched it into his memory to examine later.
“Viscount Redmond, how lovely to see you this evening,” Charlotte said. She and Miss Gold curtsied as he bowed.
“The pleasure is mine.” He smiled at her friend. “Good evening, Miss Gold.”
“The ball continues to grow more interesting,” Miss Gold said as she returned his smile.
James glanced at Charlotte to see if he should understand the lady’s remark. Charlotte merely gave a small shake of her head as if to suggest he ignore her friend’s comment. Then Miss Gold accepted an invitation to dance and was escorted away.
“I didn't expect to see you here.” A lovely shade of pink stained Charlotte’s cheeks, reminding him of how she’d looked after their kiss.
Did that blush mean she was remembering it as well? Before he could stop himself, his gaze dropped to her rosy lips. Good heavens, he was acting like a smitten youth. A look at her expectant expression made him realize she waited for his response. Yet his mind was stubbornly blank. Why hadn’t he thought of a reason for coming to the ball?
Then he realized Lady Wynn stood directly behind Charlotte. “Lady Wynn.” He bowed, hoping he hadn’t revealed his infatuation with her daughter. “How good to see you.”
“Redmond.” Her gaze continued past him to glance over his shoulder. “Is Edward with you?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“I see.” Her disappointment made him wish he could’ve given her a different answer. Her lips twisted before she lifted her champagne glass and drained it.
A passing footman collected her empty glass and to James’ surprise, she took another from the tray the servant offered.
Charlotte watched her mother with a look of concern but said nothing.
“May I have the next dance?” James would’ve been willing to say or do nearly anything to fill the awkward silence that followed.
“How kind of you.” Charlotte took his offered elbow, and they moved toward the dance floor.
“Is all well?” he whispered as they walked.
“Quite. Thank you.” Yet her look of distress clearly said otherwise.
He told himself to let it be. The less he became involved with the family the better. “You’re concerned about your mother?” The question escaped before he could halt it.
“It has been a trying evening for both of us, but her nerves often get the better of her.” Charlotte cast a worried glance at where they’d left her standing.
James noted the lady’s glass was already half-empty and wasn’t certain what to say. His own mother was steadfast and true, a bright spot in his life. Lady Wynn struck him as rather unhappy and discontent though she’d always been polite to him.
Charlotte sighed and met his gaze once more. “I’m so pleased you’re here.” Her smile was anything but natural, but he refrained from mentioning the fact.
“As am I.” They began the dance, this dance going much better than the previous one when he’d struggled to remember the steps.
“I am anxious to settle the details of our next adventure,” Charlotte advised when they moved toward each other briefly.
He blamed his misstep squarely on her statement. “We agreed there was to be just one outing.”
“I didn’t agree to any such thing.” Her smile shifted to a more genuine one and nearly had him smiling in return.
He schooled himself before responding. “Nonetheless, you must see how ill advised that would be.”
“I should like to visit Madame Gaston’s.”
“Absolutely not.” He had trouble breathing at the thought of her in such a place. “Out of the question.”
Madame Gaston’s was a gambling establishment off St. James on King’s Street and was frequented by many of the ton. The play there was expensive with a few willing to risk a fortune on the roll of a dice or the turn of a card.
While a better establishment than those he and Edward had frequented of late, it was a far cry from White’s or the like.
“Very well.” Those pretty lips twisted into a scowl before the dance took them apart.
James couldn’t believe he’d won so easily. He dearly wanted to see her face to see if she’d truly seen reason.
They returned together, joining hands to move forward, and she glanced about as if looking for someone. “I believe I saw Lord Palmer earlier.”
Ire filled him at the idea of being played so easily. “You jest.”
“Not at the moment, though I’ve been known to do so on more than one occasion.” She raised a brow as if daring him to refuse to accompany her.
“I could tell your brother of your plans.” Surely she wouldn’t realize he was bluffing. Few ever did, especially when he was playing cards.
“But you won’t.” Her confidence astounded him. As if sensing his shock, she added, “If you did, I would have to share our visit to the museum.”
“Why would that be so terrible?” Did she refer to just the outing and not their kiss? Though he worried if either of them would be acceptable to Edward.
“Then you might have to explain the ride in Hyde Park.” Her logic eluded him, but he wasn’t thinking straight.
“Palmer is the last person with whom you should go anywhere.” On that topic, he knew he held the higher ground.
“Then you agree to take me?” Satisfaction glinted in her eyes.
“No.” The woman was impossible. Why had he sought her out this evening? Yet he couldn’t deny her appeal or the way he felt so alive when he was with her.
“So I should find Lord Palmer?” She shook her head. “James, you truly should make up your mind.”
He wanted to growl in frustration as the dance took them apart once more. It was impossible to have a meaningful conversation while dancing, though at least he had a few minutes to gather his thoughts for his next argument.
They joined hands once more.
“Well?” she prompted him.
“Is there another museum you’d enjoy visiting?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate.
“Another ride in Hyde Park?”
“We already did those things.” She glanced about as if to make certain no one listened. Even if they did, surely they could make no sense of the disjointed conversation. “We shall take every precaution. I have no wish to be caught any more than you do.”
“Why does that not reassure me in the least?” He had the sinking feeling he was losing this battle.
“I have no idea.” She sounded as if he were the one being unreasonable. “I shall wear a disguise.”
He leaned close to catch her whispered words, and her sweet fragrance sent a pang of longing through him. He forced himself to concentrate on the topic at hand before he completely lost his hold on the conversation. “I cannot imagine one effective enough to disguise your gender.”
She drew back to meet his gaze with sparkling eyes the color of a stormy sea with a hint of the sun on the horizon. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
“It was meant as a warning.” His exasperation knew no bounds.
“Oh.” Disappointment coated the single syllable. Her lips pursed, revealing a glimpse of her dimples.
Good heavens. He was in over his head with the lady.
Several minutes passed in silence as they continued dancing, giving James hope that she would see reason. The music ended at last, and he offered his arm to return her to her mother.
“Tomorrow evening?” Charlotte asked. At his stony silence, she continued, “Or would you prefer I ask Lord Palmer to accompany me?”
“No.” The very idea chilled him to the bone.
“No to which?” Irritation colored her question.
Good, he decided. That made two of them who were experiencing the emotion. He clenched his jaw, unable to consider Palmer as her escort ever again. Nor did he care to advise Edward of what she’d been doing in fear of jeopardizing their friendship. “I will accompany you for a brief visit there. But if I should decide the danger is too great, you agree to leave immediately—without protest.”
“Agreed.”
Despite her acceptance of his demand, James had no doubt he had not only lost the battle but possibly the war. As he offered his elbow and they moved toward her mother, a well of anticipation struck him. Damn if he wasn’t looking forward to the outing.
~*~
Charlotte tugged at her tight-fitting trousers as she waited by the mews behind her house. James was to pick her up in his carriage any moment. Competing feelings of excitement and nerves made it difficult to breathe. She had managed to find an old outfit of Edward’s in a trunk in the attic. Though slightly out of date, it fit well enough. The shoes weren’t overly large but were uncomfortable compared to her normal slippers. Still, she didn't think they would need to walk far. A black top hat completed the ensemble, hiding much of her hair.
Her mother thought she was at Margaret's house this evening. Though she didn't completely approve of their friendship as she preferred Charlotte to have friends who could be of benefit in some way, she hadn't discouraged her from going. Lady Wynn was most likely eager for an evening at home with a glass of wine or something stronger for company.
As the minutes passed and James still didn’t arrive, Charlotte began to worry if he’d changed his mind. Though she was indeed curious as to what the inside of a gaming hell looked like and what happened there, she was just as excited at the idea of spending time with James.
Heaven forbid if her father found out. Her mother had reported favorably to him about the brief interaction she’d had with Lord Samuelson. Otherwise, she was certain her father would have had another conversation with her about the importance of her soon-to-be relationship with the man. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had time to find a way to cause the lord to lose interest in her.
Would she have fewer misgivings about Lord Samuelson if not for James? It was impossible not to compare the two and find James preferable in every possible way. The less she dwelled on that, the better off she’d be.
The dark shadows around the mews had her glancing about warily. Things here looked so different at night. It was hard not to imagine someone lurking in a corner waiting to reach out and grab her when she wasn't watching. She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. Her nerves about the adventure ahead were getting the better of her.
Just when she was beginning to wonder if she had the meeting location wrong, the jingle of a horse’s harness caught her notice. She moved out of her hiding spot as a carriage rolled into view. With a relieved breath, she recognized James’ carriage. She waited for assistance, only to berate herself. The footman was not going to hop down to assist her to alight since she was dressed as a man.
Charlotte reached for the door and opened it to peer inside. Sure enough, James sat slumped in the corner, his posture less than welcoming. “This is your last chance to change your mind.”
She hoisted herself inside and settled onto the opposite bench. “Why would I do that?” she asked with a teasing smile.
He didn't return the smile, only glaring at her as he stared at her attire. “This is a terrible idea.”
“I believe you said that already.” She wished he would be more optimistic. Her nerves were bad enough as it was. “Try to think of this as fun,” she suggested.
He scoffed. “All I can think about is what will happen if we're caught.”
“I won't be. We won’t be.” She reached out to pat his knee. “As I already mentioned, we will take every precaution.”
“If we were doing that we wouldn't be going.”
She shrugged. “If I am found out, I promise not to mention your name. Does that make you feel better?”
“Not in the least.” He shook his head then straightened to lean toward you. “You will remain at my side at all times. You will not say one word.”
She nodded, hoping her agreement would improve his mood.
The carriage turned a corner rather sharply, forcing her to reach for his leg to brace herself. If she weren't careful, she would end up in his lap. The very idea sent a shiver of anticipation through her.
James assisted her to regain her seat, his hands warm on her arms. “If anyone asks who you are, I will say you are a distant cousin from the country. Understood?”
She nodded again, waiting to hear his other instructions because she knew he would have more.
“If there is any trouble you will walk immediately toward the door. Do not wait for me. I will join you when I'm able.”
“What sort of trouble would that be?” She couldn’t imagine leaving without him.
“If anyone realizes you're a woman there will be hell to pay.”
The idea of him getting into a fight because of her caused her stomach to sink. She didn't want to cause him problems or place him in harm’s way.
Surely, he was exaggerating. She didn't think anyone would notice her. Her clothes were unremarkable. Her hat sat low on her forehead and, if she kept her eyes down, no one would see her features. While she was shorter than most men, including James, that didn't mean she looked like a boy. At least, she hoped she didn’t.
“We're going to walk inside, pause, then if all is well, we will walk slowly around the room, watch a hand or two of cards, and then we will leave. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she said, almost breathless at the idea of what they were about to do. She couldn't wait to tell Margaret every detail. In truth, his orders would give her more of an opportunity than she’d hoped for. She’d feared he would only allow her to glance inside and leave. He was being generous, but she had no intention of pointing that out for fear he’d change his mind.
The carriage turned another corner and soon drew to a halt. She shifted to the edge of her seat only to have James hold up his hand, palm out to halt her.
“I will go first to make certain all is well.”
“What could possibly be wrong on the street?”
“If your brother is entering the establishment when we do that will cause a problem.” He gave her a pointed glare. “Do I need to name other possibilities?”
However, she didn't take offense at his irritated tone. She knew it had more to do with being worried over her than anger. Her brother acted much the same way.
She pressed her lips tight and nodded. From this moment on she needed to bite her tongue. Any comments or questions would have to wait until they were alone again.
James alighted from the carriage and looked both ways before gesturing for her to follow. He walked ahead of her and once again she realized how accustomed she had become to good manners. He didn't wait for her or offer his arm. Perhaps there were disadvantages to being a man after all. She rather liked such gestures. She hurried forward to catch up with him.
“Shoulders back and lengthen your stride.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked along the pavement.
“Is that better?”
His only answer was a growl.
She did her best to match the way he walked, but the breeches pulled against her bottom in the oddest way.
He reached for the door and stepped inside, leaving her to hold it for herself.
“Good evening, my lord,” an attendant said from his post.
“Evening,” James replied as he continued forward.
She nodded at the attendant, careful to angle her hat so not too much of her face could be seen.
James reached another door and opened it to reveal a bar. Tables and chairs filled much of the room, only a few of them occupied, and a long, gleaming dark wood bar lined one wall. James strode toward the bar and nodded at the bartender. “Two whiskeys.”
The bartender nodded and moved away to fill the order.
Charlotte looked forward to the drink, hoping it would settle her nerves and help her to act more naturally and less suspicious. The mirrored glass behind the bar reflected the room, allowing her to study the area without being too obvious.
The bartender placed the drinks before them and Charlotte reached for hers only to pause when James sighed. He glanced over his shoulder as if to make certain the bartender had moved away then said, “Your hands will give you away.”
She glanced down at the one that held the glass, realizing how feminine it looked—dainty and pale—compared to James’ more masculine one.
“We had best leave your drink here,” he added quietly. “That way you can leave your hands at your sides when we enter the card room.”
She nodded, pleased that she remembered not to speak. Then she took a sip of the whiskey, doing her best not to sputter as it burned a path down her throat. But there was little she could do to prevent her eyes from watering at the strong spirits.
The corner of James’ mouth quirked. “Should I have ordered you a sherry?”
“Do they have that here?” she asked with a smile.
“Highly doubtful.” He sipped his drink as he glanced about the room, nodding at one man but ignoring the others.
Was that because he didn't know them or didn't like them? She hadn't considered the unspoken rules that governed the way men communicated until now. When women interacted, much could be interpreted by the small nuances in their behavior. There was certainly a difference between a cool nod of greeting and a warm one. Perhaps that held true for men as well. She managed two more sips as James tossed back the rest of his drink then raised a brow.
She ignored his obvious impatience and continued to take in the room in the reflection, noting the dim light, the sparkling crystal, dark wood, and low murmur of voices interspersed with occasional laughter. The place had a hushed atmosphere. It was difficult to tell whether the guests discussed business or pleasure. She supposed they did both.
“Seen enough?” James asked.
Charlotte emptied her glass, hissing at the way it burnt her throat, then nodded.
“Remember, keep your eyes down. If you see anyone you know, advise me immediately, and we will leave.”
She nodded though she hoped that didn't come to pass.
James nodded his thanks at the bartender then strolled toward the door with Charlotte directly behind him. He paused as they stepped into the corridor. “Walk at my side not behind me,” he instructed. “You're my friend not my servant.”
Again Charlotte nodded, clenching her fists when the urge to loop her arms through his overcame her. That would never do.
They stepped into the card room and paused to look around. Though fascinated, Charlotte did her best to match James’ casual glance at the surroundings.
Tables were spaced about the room, mostly with seats for four. She noted several familiar lords but didn’t say anything to James because she didn’t know them well enough to be recognized, especially dressed as she was.
After a long moment, James moved closer to the first table and paused again. She watched, quickly recognizing the game as whist. The players at the next table played vingt-et-un. The men seemed entirely focused on the game and paid her no mind. Drinks sat at their elbows, but she was surprised none of the players were smoking. Perhaps that wasn’t allowed in some establishments. With so many men in an enclosed area, the smoke would’ve quickly become overwhelming.
It was difficult to tell who was winning or losing at first. Soon the details became more apparent. The number of chips piled before one player. The scowl on another’s face. They continued slowly around the room, Charlotte’s nerves easing the longer they were there. Hazard, a game of dice, was played at a table along the rear of the room.
“Care to play a hand, Redmond?” one of the players asked James.
“Not with you, Cartwright,” James replied with a smile. “You are far too lucky.”
“It’s skill, not luck,” the man protested.
Charlotte committed as many details to memory as possible, from the striped wallpaper and comfortable chairs to the men themselves who seemed oblivious to all else but the cards they held. She could imagine James and Edward doing the same thing and wondered how much they won or lost on any given night.
“Redmond, you didn’t tell me you’d be here.”
Charlotte stilled, aware of James stiffening beside her. Edward’s voice was one she’d recognize anywhere. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. She didn’t dare look at her brother, certain he’d recognize her immediately. What should she do?