An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 20.1.2. Dramatic Spectacle

   Paulina  nudged her. "What do you want to wager that he'll dance with you?"

   Charlotte made a face. She supposed it was another sign of her decadent nature, but the French corset had lifted her mood a little, that and the hope of hearing from Benedic. "Perhaps he'll take a fancy to you, and I shall become the governess to your children to escape my own family."

  "Are you serious, Charlotte?" Paulina's eyes widened. "I'd give anything to have David and Damon as my brothers. They're so manly and protective."

   "Only when they're not ruining your life," Charlotte grumbled, and then, for the first time in a week, she started to laugh. "It's always been a mystery to me why other females find the rogues so attractive."

  "Are you missing your baron in London?" Paulina asked in sympathy. "Is that why you seem so sad lately?"

   Charlotte was tempted to laugh again and ask, "What baron?" But she simply shrugged and let her cousin draw her own conclusions. Suddenly she was eager to reach the assembly room and put her corset to good use. They had been waiting out in the carriage for what seemed like forever because Aunt Penelope could not find her wig—she was dressed as the Greek goddess Hera—and Uncle Humphrey, costumed as Zeus, had discovered that Ares had hidden the mangled hairpiece under the sofa.

   "Why would the dog steal my wig?" Aunt Penelope asked in distress as the carriage set out for the ball. "Is he upset at me? Was not Ares the son of Hera in legend? Haven't I fed the ungrateful pup my choicest bits of sausage?"

   Her husband grunted. "I imagine he thought your wig was a badger. He is a hunting dog, after all. Now would you kindly get off my lightning bolt? It took Wayfield all day to whittle those zigzags."

   The small brick assembly room at the village outskirts blazed with candlelight when they arrived behind the procession of other vehicles. Tea, lemonade, coffee, and light dishes were offered in the refreshment room, which was really a drafty hall where the elite of Chistlebury and a nearby hamlet shivered in their evening apparel and heirloom jewels.

   The ball itself opened on a disastrous note. No sooner had the steward signaled the band on the dais to begin than a cloud of choking black smoke filled the ballroom. Charlotte's throat tightened and she fought to breathe, as much from anticipation as from inhaling the noxious fumes.

   She couldn't help wondering if Benedic and his friend had planned some dramatic spectacle. Would he emerge from the billowing puffs of smoke like Mephistopheles? She was afraid for him, and yet at the same time she hoped his risky charade would soon end. She would never complain about her life being too dull again.

   But Benedic did not appear in a dramatic puff of smoke. Nor did Sir Edward or Aleister. It seemed that a pair of youthful pranksters, disgruntled boys who had been punished by the parson, had taken revenge by stuffing several old sheets down the chimney to the fireplace, then setting them aflame.

   By the time the air had cleared, the arrival of Lord Overton was announced, and Charlotte had her first curious look at the mysterious man who had befriended Benedic. He cut an undeniably attractive figure as he strode into the ballroom in the blond wig, knee breeches, white lace-trimmed shirt, hat, and black velvet mask of seventeenth-century highwayman. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see him immediately surrounded by the village patronesses. His instant popularity did make her wonder, though, how she would be able to get him alone for a few minutes.

   Aleister solved the problem for her, appearing very discreetly beside her on the dance floor.

  How he managed to escape those fierce-hearted dragonesses without offending anyone and make it to Charlotte's side to walk her through the steps of the quadrille was a feat she could only admire. He did not speak for several moments. Nor did she. Instinctively she felt safe with him, at ease. He seemed to be the sort of man who lived by his own rules, and those rules included unswerving loyalty to his friends. She knew that he had sought her out for a reason.

   Her mouth went dry as his perceptive hazel eyes examined her through the slits of his half mask. He was tall and well built; he moved with power and purpose, a man to stir a lady's blood, but it was news of Benedic she wanted and sensed that Aleister had brought her.

   "Charlotte, I have heard a lot about you from our mutual friend." His voice was low-pitched and attractive. "Forgive me if I step on your toes. I do not dance well at all."

   "A duke's heir? Not dance—" She could not stand it another second. She could not flirt or be herself when her heart was filled with this horrible apprehension. She dropped her voice. "Please tell me this is not your way of preparing me for bad news. Is he here? Has he sent you to fetch me? Is he all right?"

   His deep laughter made her dizzy with relief. "Yes. Yes. And yes. Is that all you wanted to know?"

   Her gaze scanned the dance floor, assessing every costumed guest, every masked face for her elusive Benedic. "Where is he?"

   His mouth curled with a gentle smile of reproach. "Do not be so obvious, Charlotte. He isn't ready to share his secret with anyone else but us just yet. The time is almost here for him to come out of hiding. I think Benedic is more than ready for this to be over."

   She drew a breath, her attention returning to his masked face. "When?"

   "Sometime in the next few days. You will not want to be involved in the actual confrontation."

   "Not involved." She held out her skirts and muttered under her breath as she executed a perfunctory curtsy. "You do not know much about my association with him, do you?"

   His dark hazel eyes glinted in good humor. "I know that he is in love with you."

   Charlotte fought to hide the pleasure that flooded her. "He told you that?"

   "Sweetheart, he did not need to tell me. Why do you suppose I am here?"

   "But—all right, if you are his closest friend, then you know better than anyone how dangerous it is for him to confront Edward alone. You don't support this mad scheme of his, do you?"

   He glanced over her shoulder as if assessing whether it was safe to continue their conversation. Charlotte realized vaguely that they had broken the formation of the dance and were drifting in subtle degrees toward the door, presumably unnoticed in the crush of the crowded dance floor. "Of course I support him."

   She looked around in confusion. James frowned at her, then turned to bestow a smile upon his dancing partner. Her aunt and the other patronesses were watching Paulina dance with James's younger brother, Colton, a serious law student. The only person who seemed to be paying any attention to Charlotte was her uncle.

   "I'll take care of him," Aleister said quietly, following the direction of her gaze.

   She looked up at him in alarm. "That's my uncle. Don't you dare do anything to hurt him."

   Aleister's chuckle brought a blush to her cheeks. "I meant that I shall distract him."

   "Why?" Charlotte whispered, her voice low with the anticipation that had wound her nerves into knots. Where was Benedic hiding? What was he planning to do? When would she see him?