London, England, June 1817
James Crosby, Viscount Redmond, stood in the drawing room of the Wynn residence, staring into the dark garden, wondering what had become of his life. He couldn’t say he cared for the man reflected in the window. In quiet moments like this, when all was still, he knew in his heart he was on the wrong path. His roguish behavior served no purpose other than personal amusement. That was no purpose at all.
With a sigh, he turned away. Better not to examine the reflection too closely. Now wasn’t the time for contemplation. He waited for Edward Adley, Viscount Wynn, an old friend he’d run into a few nights ago at a gaming hell. Though they’d both been three sheets to the wind, his dim memories of the evening reminded James how much he liked Edward. They intended to venture out again this evening. They were nearly the same age, both heirs to earls, and had become good friends during their days at Oxford.
However, they’d lost touch when James bought his commission, following in his grandfather’s footsteps, and left England three years ago to fight Napoleon while Edward remained home. James had returned to London six months ago only to find that peace eluded him. His attempts at staying busy in order to hold back the terrible memories were only successful for brief periods.
Perhaps because his preferred activities were drinking, gambling and women. He had just ended an affair with an intriguing actress, realizing he’d begun to dread evenings with her as they had little in common, and she had expensive taste. Too expensive for his modest income.
His father and mother, the Earl and Countess of Redmond, had thus far turned a blind eye to his behavior, but he knew that would soon come to an end. His father had supported James’ desire to defend England despite being the heir. And he’d suggested James had the right to enjoy himself after fighting in some of the bloodiest battles of the war. But during his visit with them the previous day, James could clearly see the concern in the depths of his father’s eyes.
That made two of them.
What to do about it was another matter. His parents would like him to marry and settle down, but that wasn’t possible. Not when he couldn’t manage his melancholy during the day, let alone at night. Sleep eluded him. He didn't need anyone other than his valet to witness his shouts during the night when nightmares dragged him back to the battlefield.
Though he told himself that he’d soon adjust to life at home and a normal routine, he was slowly losing hope that would ever come to pass. The memories were still too fresh and painful.
Waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, startling at loud noises in public places, and suppressing a surge of adrenaline when someone bumped into him or tapped him on the shoulder made it impossible to pretend like everything was normal. Because it wasn't. He wasn't.
He feared the old James would never return. Yet he had only to look into his mother’s worried eyes to wish he could find peace. He’d hoped by now that the memories would ease, and he would be able to start anew. But that hadn’t happened.
Hence the reason he was waiting for Wynn. They had plans to go to a less-than-reputable gaming hell, one rough enough that it was better not to go alone. He pulled out his pocket watch, wondering what was taking his friend so long.
A small sound from nearby had him turning quickly toward it, heart pounding, only to find an attractive young lady in a green gown standing in the doorway, staring at him with wide blue eyes.
“I'm terribly sorry,” she said. “I didn't realize we had a guest.” Then her eyes narrowed, and her head tilted to the side. She took two steps forward. “James?”
James stared at the attractive lady, trying to decide whether they’d met. Then she smiled, and her identity came to him in a rush. “Lady Charlotte?”
Her smile grew, bringing forth appealing dimples he’d nearly forgotten. “Yes. I didn't realize you had returned home.”
He glanced away before he denied her claim. While relieved to be back in London, he seemed to have lost something vital along the way. It was as if he were here in body but not in spirit. He'd left pieces of himself on the battlefield and had no idea how to get them back.
James blinked, trying to gather his thoughts before memories took charge, his gaze latching onto Lady Charlotte to keep the debilitating panic at bay.
If he remembered correctly, Charlotte was four years younger than he and Edward. When James had last seen her, she’d been a rather gangly girl, far too thin, with long limbs and a bright smile. The poised young lady before him was none of those things. Yet he hadn’t forgotten that smile that started in her sparkling blue eyes and lit her entire face. She was like a breath of fresh air.
“It’s good to see you,” she said as she drew closer. “I hope you are well?” The way she looked at him with such interest had him shifting his feet.
If he didn't know better, he would guess she could see all the holes the war had left in him.
He managed to smile and bow, deciding not to answer her question. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” As he continued to study her, he realized it was true. “The years have treated you well.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze dropped for the first time as a hint of rose flushed her alabaster skin. The pale hair he remembered had darkened to the color of rich honey. Her blue eyes were an unusual dusky blue-green hue that reminded him of the rain. Her heart-shaped face was attractive, her pert nose perfect. While she still had long limbs, there was a grace and elegance to her now, not to mention undeniable curves.
“What brings you by this evening?” While a curious note colored her tone, a tightness was evident in her expression.
“I am waiting for your brother. We have plans together.”
“Oh?” She lifted one brow in question as if hoping he'd say more. When he didn't, she prodded further. “Where do the two of you intend to venture?”
He thought it odd that she asked. But he certainly had no intention of telling her if Edward hadn't already. “Difficult to say exactly. Wherever our whims take us, I suppose.”
“I see.” She politely nodded then bit her lip, a small furrow appearing between her brows.
James pondered her obvious dissatisfaction with his reply. What difference did it make where they were going? Unless she disapproved of Edward’s gambling. That was the only explanation that made sense.
“Will it reassure you if I promise to do my best to keep watch over Edward?” The offer surprised him, and he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. He held no sway over her brother. Even if Edward got in too deep, there was little chance James could stop him.
“How kind of you.” Charlotte smiled, but James had the distinct feeling that wasn’t the reason behind her concern. “Do you think you’ll be leaving soon?”
“I believe so.” Before he could say more, Edward entered the room.
“Redmond, sorry to keep you waiting.” Edward strode forward and offered his hand.
“It’s not a problem.” James shook his hand then looked toward Charlotte. “I had the pleasure of reacquainting myself with Lady Charlotte.”
Edward raised a brow as he glanced at his sister. “Where are you off to this evening?”
“The Comerford Ball.” Her uneasy expression suggested anything but excitement, making James wonder whether she truly wanted to go. “Will I see the two of you there later?”
“Not if I have a say.” Edward grinned. “I’m avoiding every ball that I can.”
“Don’t let Mother or Father hear you say that.” A hint of a true smile quirked the corner of Charlotte’s mouth, causing her dimples to appear.
Damn. Those were a weapon not to be easily dismissed. His breath caught each time she flashed them.
How was it that she wasn’t yet married or betrothed? Were the men who attended Society’s functions blind to her obvious charms?
Edward scoffed. “It’s not my fault they have false hopes.” He looked at James. “I would hazard a guess that marriage is not in your immediate plans either.”
“Can’t say that it is.” James said the words lightly, uncertain of the undercurrents of the conversation. There seemed to be more to it than he knew thus far.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from your evening.” Charlotte glanced at the clock on a nearby table, leaving James to wonder if perhaps they were delaying her plans. “I’m sure you need to go.”
“Yes, we do. Enjoy the ball.” Edward brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t step on anyone’s toes.”
Charlotte gave her brother a mock scowl. “As if that were possible.” Then she looked at James, her gaze holding steadily on him. “It was a pleasure to see you again. Enjoy your evening.”
“And you.” He bowed then followed Edward out, wondering why Lady Charlotte seemed in such a hurry for them to depart.
~*~
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Edward and James hop into a carriage from her post at the drawing room window. She thought they’d never leave. Now she was late. She should already be at the corner where Lady Barbara and her brother, Viscount Palmer, were waiting for her in their carriage.
While she truly had enjoyed seeing James again, his arrival had delayed her. Or rather, her desire to speak to him had. She drew a long breath of appreciation for the handsome man he’d become. His rugged appeal had deepened during his years away.
Broad, powerful shoulders and narrow hips were evident thanks to his form-fitting dark grey double-breasted tailcoat, a paler shade of waistcoat, and matching trousers. His features had strengthened, becoming more chiseled, made evident by the elegant double knot of his snowy white cravat.
Dark brown hair with a hint of a wave was clipped short in the back but left long in the front to fall carelessly over his forehead. Thick brows framed brown eyes that seemed to observe far too much. His smile was slower to appear than it had been in the past. Surely that had something to do with the shadows lingering in his eyes.
She shouldn’t wonder about those issues now. She pressed a hand against her stomach to settle the nerves there as she retrieved her silk Spencer to protect against the cool, evening air where she’d left it on the handrail. After quickly donning it, taking care to tuck the object it hid underneath her arm, she hurried down the stairs. She’d already told her mother she was going to the ball with a friend but had been careful not to mention Lady Barbara. Her mother wouldn’t approve. For once, Charlotte was grateful for the lack of interest her mother had in anything beyond her sitting room these days.
Her father was at his club, and Mother intended to remain home. Again. Charlotte reached the front door, excited at the evening before her. Yet she couldn’t deny a certain amount of worry at what she was about to do. So many things could go wrong if she were caught.
“Lady Charlotte, did you wish me to call for the carriage?” Gordon, their longtime butler, asked as he hurried forward to get the door for her.
“No need. I’m joining friends.” She gestured outside as if they were waiting in the drive and forced a smile, certain the servant knew she was lying. If only she were better at telling falsehoods.
“Very well, my lady. I wish you a pleasant evening.” He definitely knew something was amiss, but the sympathy in his expression suggested he would hold his tongue.
“Thank you.” She ignored the unsettling sensation his concern caused, stepped outside, and hurried down the steps. She braced herself for him to call out a question, but the door clicked shut behind her.
What if Lady Barbara and her brother had left without her? Alarmed at the thought of missing the evening she’d planned for some time, she quickened her pace and rounded the corner, relieved to see a carriage a short distance ahead. The door flew open as she approached.
“We nearly gave up on you,” Lady Barbara declared from the dim interior.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I was unexpectedly detained.”
The tall form of Charles Lowery, Lord Palmer, shifted forward to extend his hand to help her, though he didn’t bother to step out to do so. “I thought perhaps you changed your mind.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Charlotte said as she settled onto the bench beside Lady Barbara.
The carriage jerked forward, doing nothing for the nerves that continued to plague Charlotte. She leaned back against the seat, well aware of the weight of her friend’s regard.
“Are you certain nothing is amiss?” Lady Barbara squinted at her with suspicion.
“Not at all. I was waiting for my brother to depart before joining you.” And desperately hoping he and James didn’t decide to make an appearance at Madame Bernard’s gathering.
The French widow was well known for the parties she threw. Many members of the ton and the demimonde, including well-known actresses and singers, were among her guests. One never knew who one might see there. At least, that was what Charlotte had heard.
She’d never attended a party like this one, but she hoped it would be the first of many adventures in the coming months. After the news her father had delivered last week, her time to truly live as she wished was short. Lord Wynn had advised her that she would be married by the end of the Season to a man of his choosing. She was to have no say in who the man would be. Her father had already narrowed down the choices but had yet to reveal their identity. No amount of arguing had changed his mind.
Charlotte had no doubt she wouldn’t approve of them, for the men her father respected were just like him—domineering, unreasonable, and old-fashioned, with no enjoyment of life and no tenderness for family.
She need only look at her mother to imagine what her future held—emptiness. She gave herself a mental shake. She’d promised herself not to dwell on what she couldn’t change but rather to enjoy all she could.
Hence this first adventure to Madame Bernard’s. The risqué party would give her a taste of a daring life she might otherwise never experience.
“Why not attend with your brother?” Lord Palmer asked. “I’ve seen him at several gatherings like this.”
Though tempted to admit that Edward would never agree to do so, she held back, not wanting Palmer to change his mind about accompanying her and Barbara.
Edward would be appalled if he knew what she was doing this evening. Nor did he care for Palmer. She had to admit there was something unsettling about Barbara’s brother. Darkness lay beneath his polite façade, a certain danger barely hidden.
The thought nearly made her shiver. Though she told herself that very danger was what drew her to agree to Barbara’s suggestion that he take them to the party, now that she was in a carriage at night with him, doubts bubbled to the surface.
“Edward had other plans this evening.” She pursed her lips as resolve filled her. These next few months were all she had. Her life would change drastically once she was trapped in marriage. She expected to be as miserable as her mother was. The vague expression Lady Wynn wore, especially when her husband started on one of his tirades, was heartbreaking.
Then there was the glass of sherry so often at her elbow that Charlotte had realized wasn’t truly sherry but something stronger. The frequent headaches that gave her an excuse to remain abed, the lack of concern about anything, combined with the bland expression she so often wore, suggested she used any means necessary to cushion herself from the reality of her life.
Those signs caused Charlotte to study the other married women around her, and she’d realized that ladies like her mother were the majority rather than the minority. Marriage was the beginning of the end. A business arrangement that both parties endured with stoicism and numbness.
Charlotte loved her mother but didn’t want to become her.
The thoughts strengthened her determination to see through with the evening’s plans. If she wanted to enjoy life, she had to take every opportunity open to her.
Carpe diem.
Charlotte held tight to the thought and leaned back against the bench seat, determined to relax and enjoy the evening. “Did you bring your mask?” she asked Barbara.
Her friend nodded enthusiastically. “It’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to wear it.”
Barbara was a friend best taken in small doses. She rarely thought about consequences and met life with blind enthusiasm, making her the perfect companion for this sort of evening. Her lack of regard for more serious topics frustrated Charlotte. But on this night, the lack would play to Charlotte’s advantage.
“Do you have yours?”
Charlotte held up the gold and green mask that had been tucked in the sleeve of her Spencer.
“Perfect,” Barbara declared. “I cannot wait to see how everyone is dressed as well as their masks. What do you suppose Madame Bernard will wear?”
“I didn’t think you were venturing to the gathering to admire their fashion or lack thereof,” Lord Palmer drawled as he stared out the window as if bored by the conversation. “Surely you would prefer to engage in a more exciting activity.”
Another prickle of nerves struck Charlotte as she wondered what the lord had in mind, but she did her best to ignore it.
“Why don’t we begin the evening properly?” He reached into the dark corner of his seat and retrieved a bottle of champagne and three fluted glasses from a basket. “I believe a toast to our adventure is in order.”
Barbara clapped her gloved hands in delight. “How thoughtful of you, dear brother.”
He opened the bottle with practiced ease, the pop causing Charlotte to jerk even as Barbara giggled. When Palmer handed Charlotte the first glass, she held it carefully before her and off to one side, not wanting a bump in the road to cause her to spill the bubbly, golden liquid on her gown.
“To our adventure.” Palmer raised his glass and looked at both of them in turn. “May we all find a thrill we didn’t expect this evening.” His gaze lingered on Charlotte as he finished the toast, his shockingly predatory expression making her uneasy.
With a mental shake at her ridiculous thoughts, Charlotte forced a smile. It wasn’t as if she would be alone with him. Barbara was at her side, and Charlotte intended to make certain that didn’t change. She wanted to have fun, not place herself in danger. “To our adventure.”
“Yes, to adventure.” Barbara took a sip quickly followed by another. “I intend to dance as much as possible. What if they play a waltz?” Her eyes rounded at the scandalous thought.
Aware of Lord Palmer’s continued regard, Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll waltz.” Though the dance had become integrated into Society, including at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, her parents thought the dance scandalous.
“Why not? We’ll be wearing our masks. No one will know.” Lady Barbara held out her glass for a refill and nudged Charlotte to do the same. “I want to do it at least once.”
Deciding she appreciated the way the drink eased her nerves, Charlotte accepted a refill as well. Between the mask and the champagne, perhaps a waltz wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
Lord Palmer clinked his glass against hers again. “Finish your drinks, ladies. We’re nearly there.”
Anticipation simmered as the carriage drew to a halt. They returned their glasses to the basket, donned their masks, and alighted.
Charlotte smiled at the sight of the two-story mansion with torches lighting the path to the front door as anticipation filled her.
This. This was the exact type of experience she’d longed for, where she felt a thrill from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She intended to collect as many moments like this one as possible this Season. Before she married and everything changed.
“Let us see what we can see.” Charlotte linked her arm through Barbara’s, leaving Lord Palmer to follow, hoping to make it clear she wasn’t open to any advances from him.
The crush of people, all wearing masks, some wearing outrageous attire, was a sight to behold. One man wore a gold-colored suit coat that sparkled in the candlelight. Another strutted past whose outfit brought to mind a peacock. The ladies were equally amazing, some with low necklines that left little to the imagination. Others wore wigs piled high on their head, decorated with colorful ribbons and tall feathers. Many wore heavy rouge and painted lips along with colorful masks.
She and Barbara strolled around the room, enjoying the décor of gold and silver along with an entire mirrored wall. Even the footmen wore gold and silver uniforms as well as masks. Everything glittered.
Charlotte felt underdressed in her simple green silk gown. Thank goodness her mask was elaborately beaded, covering most of her eyes and cheeks. When two gentlemen asked her and Barbara to dance, they readily agreed.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur, leaving a myriad of impressions in her mind. Despite the fact that Lord Palmer found numerous opportunities to make her uncomfortable with his flirtatious remarks and frequent brushes against her, she had a wonderful evening and couldn’t wait to experience another like it.
That was until the strains of a waltz filled the air, and she turned to find a masked gentleman standing before her whose broad shoulders and fit form seemed strikingly familiar.
“May I have the honor of this dance?”
A rush of goose flesh prickled her skin, causing her to shiver. She had no doubt of the man’s identity—James. The question was, did he know who she was?