Charlotte had certainly never looked better, of that much John was certain. He’d been searching to escort her to dinner with a warning that her mother’s friends were in attendance. When he finally saw her, his breath had left his lungs in a whoosh.
She was stunning.
She wore a formal gown he’d never seen her in before. The beautiful shade of blue was the perfect complement to her complexion and hair. Her high cheekbones and green eyes were accentuated by an artful hair arrangement, and she was exquisite.
The only thing to give him pause was the ice-cold feel of her hands. She was a bundle of nerves, although he’d never have known it to look at her. It wasn’t every day one sat across the table from a stranger who might have altered the course of one’s life. He kept his hand wrapped around hers until the first course was served.
Silverware clinked, and conversation filled the room, but in their small area, he felt tension radiating off the diners around him. Some looked repeatedly at Charlotte, while others refused to even glance in her direction. Laughter became a touch too brittle and forced; food was either shoveled into mouths or pushed around on the plate.
One thing John knew for certain was that whether one of Katherine’s friends had caused her death or not, they clearly had a visceral reaction to her daughter. It must have been like dining with a ghost.
James Carter, the only one of the gentlemen who had not known Katherine in childhood finally addressed Charlotte directly. “My dear Miss Duvall, you’ll think me forward, but I simply cannot comprehend your stunning resemblance to your late mother. She was a beautiful woman, and you are her very image.”
Charlotte lifted her brows in surprise, but smiled and lightly cleared her throat. “How kind of you to say so, Mr. Carter. I remember your attendance at my father’s funeral. My memories of my mother are few; she was taken from me much too soon.”
John was impressed that she delivered the line without a hint of sharpness or implication.
“My wife knew Katherine in school, didn’t you, Phillipa?” Mr. Carter said.
She glanced at her husband as though she’d rather fall through the floor than speak but nodded. “Before she was Mrs. Duvall, when she was Miss Hampton.”
“My goodness, such a small world we live in.” Charlotte smiled and gently piled a small amount of food on the back of her fork before then removing most of it, eating the tiniest morsel of food John had ever seen. Her hands were loose on the cutlery; she didn’t clutch it or otherwise betray her nerves.
Eva sat next to Mr. Finebough. She leaned forward to encompass him and the other gentlemen in the group, saying, “I have it on good authority that several of you actually spent a fair amount of time with the Hampton brood.” She smiled and explained to others, “The eldest was Amelie’s father, Albert, and then Katherine, followed by my mother, Esther, and lastly our aunt Sally, who had a conflicting engagement this evening and is unable to join us. Perhaps I am speaking for my cousins out of turn, but being surrounded by people who knew our family is so comforting, especially for the two of us who’ve lost those we loved.”
Murmured assent sounded from those addressed, and James Carter lifted his wineglass. “To friends, here and away.”
They all followed suit, raising their glasses and drinking to friends. Some of them clearly would see the irony in it, and John wished he knew who they were. Someone on the boat that night had had a hand in Katherine’s death, of that he was certain. With the exception of Charlotte’s father, the boat captain, and crew, those people were now present at this very table.
“Mr. Worthingstone,” a gentleman farther down the table called to the man seated directly across from John, “I do hope you’ll give the others what for in the next round of voting. Enough of this Labor Party nonsense!”
Several people laughed, but the man’s wife admonished, “Not at the table, Francis! Politics at mealtime?”
Others offered good-natured chastening, and Mr. Worthingstone, for his part, took the comment in stride. “I know I shall do my best,” he answered. “My colleagues here are also of a mind. Never fear.”
“It is quite remarkable,” Amelie said during the following lull in the conversation, “that the three of you share the same Christian name and that you all grew up together! It must have been confusing, at times.”
Mr. Paddleton smiled, and some of the color that had drained from his face when he sat down near Charlotte had returned. “As it happens, Kat was the one who helped us differentiate. She said Finebough should be ‘James,’ I could be ‘Jim,’ and Worthingstone should be called ‘Jamie.’ Wouldn’t you know it, but the names stuck.”
“Not by the time I met you, darling,” Mrs. Winifred Paddleton said, looking at her husband with an arched brow. “I cannot imagine calling you Jim.”
Finebough cleared his throat and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Paddleton means the names stuck only until we finished school. After that, we all become James again.” He glanced at Charlotte and managed a tight smile. He seemed to want to say something else but changed his mind and continued his meal.
“Mrs. Finebough, you also knew my mother?” Charlotte asked.
Gwendolyn Finebough nodded. “Oh, yes, but when we were in school. Anastacia and I are sisters, you see, so we both were acquainted with her. It wasn’t until we were all married that we began to attend events and gatherings socially as couples. Naturally, it would have been wildly inappropriate for your mother to spend time with the gentlemen as a single woman. Childhood friendships aside.” Her smile was frosty.
“And you, Mr. and Mrs. Carter? When did you join this esteemed group of friends?” Amelie asked.
“I knew the Jameses in school.” Mr. Carter chuckled. “And as a James myself, I suppose it was inevitable we would eventually move in the same circles. My, but we were a young bunch then! I had yet to take my position with the company, and these three were still a few years away from their elections.”
“It sounds as though you all achieved your dreams,” Charlotte said. “If only my mother could see you now, I am certain she would be so proud. There is something special about childhood friendships, wouldn’t you say? They become almost familial.”
Charlotte smiled, and to a stranger, it might have seemed innocent, but John noted the slight tightening of her eyes as she lifted her drink to her lips. She moved her gaze from one person to the next, smiling again as she set down her glass. If not for the fact that she’d barely touched her food, John might have thought she was as relaxed as she seemed.
John noted that Mrs. Anastacia Worthingstone had been silently observing Charlotte throughout the meal. His opinion was that she was the luckiest of the four wives in terms of maintaining her beauty as she had aged. Her dark hair accentuated a pretty face, but her ice-blue eyes were very much that.
She smiled at Charlotte as the second course was served. “And you, Miss Duvall. Am I to understand you are a medical doctor?”
“I am.” Charlotte matched the woman’s smile.
“Refreshing that single women have so many options from which to choose these days. Why, not even fifty years ago you’d have been relegated to governess service.”
“Mmm,” Charlotte agreed.
“Isn’t it astonishing, Phillipa,” Mrs. Worthingstone continued, “that Miss Duvall has not fallen far from her mother’s tree? We often remarked in school that Kat made the most unconventional choices.”
Mrs. Carter, decidedly more reserved and timid than her friends, laughed nervously but refrained from comment.
“But then, it should hardly have come as a surprise given her origins.” Mrs. Worthingstone smiled, probably hoping to seem innocuous. “Those Hamptons were always unpredictable—sometimes shockingly so! Always dancing on the line of proper behavior. One never knows what to expect.”
There was a beat of silence at the table, followed by a few strains of uncertain—or perhaps incredulous—laughter. Considering that three Hamptons currently dined with the woman and Sally Hampton was a prominent force in society, Anastacia Worthingstone was either incredibly dense or incredibly calculating.
“What an odd thing to actually say aloud,” Eva said with a serene smile.
Charlotte’s volley at Mrs. Worthingstone was more direct. She chuckled at Eva and said, “I was under the impression that only my mother’s good friends were permitted to call her Kat.”
There were a few sharp intakes of breath, and Mr. Carter laughed unapologetically. John tamped down a smile by putting food in his mouth, but even then was hard-pressed to hide his mirth.
Mrs. Worthingstone arched a brow at Charlotte but refrained from further comment.
“You should know, Miss Duvall,” Mr. Carter said to Charlotte, “that your mother engendered a sense of envy in some of the female variety. Clearly even the ghost of her has the power to resurrect some of the old sentiment.”
“I do beg your pardon, James Carter,” Mrs. Finebough interjected with a broad smile that ventured nowhere near her eyes. “Present company especially were not among those who envied Katherine. She was our friend, first and foremost.” She turned to Charlotte with a gentled expression. “She truly was lovely, Miss Duvall, and it was an honor to have known her.”
“I am glad to hear it, Mrs. Finebough, thank you.”
“Mrs. Carter,” Eva said, “I hope you’ll share the results of your most recent charity work with the new school near Whitechapel.”
John suspected everyone within earshot was grateful to Eva for smoothly redirecting the conversation. For his part, though, he’d have loved to watch Charlotte go another round with the women. Mrs. Worthingstone’s backhanded slights toward Katherine were insensitive, to say the least.
Conversation continued as the meal progressed, and John kept an eye on the four couples, observing the dynamics among them. He noticed Charlotte doing the same thing; she said little to anyone, barely ate anything, but was very much aware of everything around her.
John also took stock of the event as a whole. Mrs. Winston had assembled an eclectic mix of London’s upper echelons, where business deals would be forged and alliances made. John noted a number of people whose secrets he knew because he had always listened when his father conducted business and because he knew the value of information to the right person.
He regretted he had no useful knowledge in his mental files about the people whose lives had entwined with Katherine’s. He wanted to speak privately with Charlotte to compare notes on her initial impressions of the players involved, so he was relieved when dessert was served. In that time, the MPs’ wives avoided speaking to Charlotte or referencing her mother again. Mrs. Carter asked polite questions about Charlotte’s experiences in the United States, but otherwise all verbal communication with the young woman ceased.
John noted with interest, however, the number of times the MPs themselves stole glances at Charlotte. It happened frequently, often with an additional side glance at their wives. Clearly, not only had the gentlemen enjoyed a friendship with Katherine when they’d all been young, but just as clearly, the women the men would later pair with did not care for the competition they assumed she posed. Perhaps she had been a thorn in the side of one—or each—of the women present; John knew little of Katherine’s personality or character. He knew Charlotte, however, and his concerns lay with her.
Mrs. Winston rang a bell and announced that activities would commence. Dancing in the ballroom, followed by musical numbers in the conservatory and games in the drawing room. John escorted Charlotte from the room, her arm threaded through his, and he put his hand atop hers.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Just my hands. Case of the nerves, I hate to admit.”
He held her back to allow the others to file into the ballroom, and to observe the people with whom they’d dined. “What do you think of your mother’s friends?”
She laughed quietly. “A pit of vipers.”
“I am certain the men liked your mother well enough.”
Charlotte glanced at him. “Until their wives convinced them she was a threat.”
Exactly what John had been thinking. “What is your opinion of the Carters?”
“Of the four couples, they seem the least likely to have caused harm to my mother.” She lifted a shoulder, watching the couple in question mingle with the crowd. “Could simply be donning sheep’s clothing, however.”
“Well, they are in the textile business, after all.”
Her reaction was worth his ridiculous quip. She gave him a sidelong look and her lips tilted in a wry smile. “I had hoped to escape after dinner, but if you ask me to dance, I might be convinced to stay longer.”
“Then consider yourself invited. Shall we?” He led her to the ballroom and then paused just outside the door. “I was unaware until I arrived that these extra guests would be in attendance. I’d have liked to give you fair warning, but perhaps we’ve learned some useful things tonight.”
She nodded. “It is probably better that I wasn’t aware. I didn’t have time to fret or practice any speeches ahead of time. This was a much more honest interaction.” She smiled, and he saw in the tightening of her eyes that she was shoring herself up for what might come. “I’ve learned some things about my mother, and considering the nature of those women in there, I believe Kat and I would have gotten along together just fine.”
“I believe you’re correct. Come along, my darling. We must put you on display.”