To Love a Tormented Earl, page 29
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, it has been quite a difficult recovery,’ Max said, passing her under his arm again. They traded hands, turning to face away from each other and then back toward each other again.
‘You were convalescing, all this time?’ Charlotte inquired, showing more interest.
‘Indeed,’ Max said. ‘Many a night I feared I might not see the dawn. And I fear I am still weak. Even just last night I had another episode—but I mustn’t overtax you with such details.’
‘My dear cousin,’ Charlotte said, echoing the phrase he had used, ‘if you cannot confide in your own family, who can you confide in?’
‘You are too kind, my lady,’ Max said. ‘It has been so very hard, you know, being so far from everyone.’
‘No doubt.’
‘And my physician counselled me against this trip.’
Charlotte’s eyes were fixed on him now, devouring his visage. She could not fail to see the pallor he had so carefully applied to his skin—but would she believe it to be authentic?
He coughed again, stopping and bending forward as if gripped with illness. Yanking a handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it to his mouth.
To his satisfaction, it came away bloodied.
Bloody sputum, indeed.
‘Merciful heavens!’ Charlotte exclaimed.
Max pretended further difficulty, stumbling back and colliding with another couple.
‘Terribly sorry!’ he gasped, then coughed again. Meeting Charlotte’s alarmed gaze, he said, in great agitation, ‘I do apologise. I am unwell.’
With that, he fled the dance floor.
Lady Charlotte
With a gasp of shock, Charlotte watched Maximilian as he hurried from the ballroom, still coughing most alarmingly.
Why the man is near death! she thought with wonder.
Had she ever seen a gentleman look so pale? And the dark shadows around his eyes—he put her in mind of a deathly skull, staring out of a living face. Maximilian Emery was not long for this world, she was quite certain.
With that realization, Charlotte became aware that she was still standing in the middle of the dance floor without a partner.
Embarrassment flushed her cheeks with heat and she cast about for rescue. Lieutenant Roberts, very handsome in his dress uniform, saw her distress and moved with quick grace between the dancers, taking her hand and guiding her back into the steps of the allemande.
Even as she twisted and passed under his arm, Charlotte’s mind whirled far more rapidly.
Maximilian Emery, on the verge of death?
Had he really been so very ill? Why had Jones not spoken of it to her?
The rough man was somewhere on the estate. She would not fail to seek him out at her first opportunity and question him about it. Had he not thought it relevant to mention such a detail? Maximilian, pale and coughing up blood?
Gradually, Charlotte’s attention found its way to her dance partner. Lieutenant Roberts was gazing at her, a mild look of amusement on his face.
‘Do you laugh at me, my lord?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing with a blend of mischief and real offense. ‘My predicament, though distressful to me, may very well have been most amusing to you.’
‘Pon my soul, my lady, you are most ungenerous!’ the gentleman exclaimed. ‘How disagreeable you must think me, endowing me with such unkindness.’
‘You smiled, my lord, do not deny it,’ Charlotte said, though already she felt mollified by his outrage.
‘If I smiled, ‘twas only in admiration of your great beauty,’ he said.
Charlotte looked away coyly. ‘And now you seek to soothe me with flattery, my lord. Have you no shame?’
He passed her under his arched arm.
‘Indeed not, for I am powerless to hide my regard for you,’ Lieutenant Roberts said. ‘I am quite bewitched.’
‘Bewitched, now!’ Charlotte exclaimed with a laugh. ‘Am I to be accused of engaging in dark arts?’
‘How else can you explain how entranced I am? You have captivated me, Lady Charlotte.’
A sense of triumph filled Charlotte’s heart.
Oh, how I have fought and sacrificed, she thought. And to be rewarded with such victory! I am vindicated.
Impatience chased on the heels of her satisfaction, however. She could not bear to wait for everything to be settled.
The music concluded and they bowed and curtseyed. Charlotte grasped the lieutenant’s arm as if she experienced a loss of balance.
‘Oh,’ she gasped.
‘Lady Charlotte,’ Lt. Roberts said. ‘Are you unwell?’
Shaking her head, she said, ‘No, no, I am quite well, I assure you.’
But she leaned on his arm and raised a hand to her face, pressing gloved fingertips to her mouth.
‘I daresay the heat of this ballroom is affecting you, my lady. Please, allow me to escort you onto the terrace for a breath of air.’
That will do for now, Charlotte thought, but I shall endeavour to lead you to an ever more quiet spot. All the better to provoke assumptions and encourage him to protect her reputation. She would have an understanding with the lieutenant, if not an outright proposal, before the night was out, Charlotte vowed.
The gentleman guided her from the ballroom, through the great drawing room and out the French doors onto the still-damp terrace. It was very pleasant, having a breath of fresh night air after the stifling atmosphere of the house. A full moon shone above, and lamps hung at intervals all through the garden, a detail to which Charlotte had personally attended.
They were not alone on the terrace, however, for several guests had sought the air as well as they.
‘If you please, Lieutenant,’ Charlotte said. ‘The rain has made the air so fragrant, and I should like very much to have some quiet. Might we not move further into the garden?’
She gave him a wide-eyed look, pretending innocence.
Lieutenant Roberts returned her gaze with warmth in his eyes. ‘Of course, dear lady.’
Tucking her hand firmly in his arm, he led her down the terrace stairs and onto the garden’s wide main lane. Her silk slippers would not survive the outing, but it seemed a small price to pay.
‘Ah,’tis it not very pleasing to escape the noise and crowd for a time?’ the lady exclaimed.
‘Most pleasing,’ Roberts agreed. ‘And I must confess, I had hoped to find a moment of privacy, Lady Charlotte. Perhaps this will suffice.’
‘Oh?’ she said, raising her eyebrows at him even as her heart began to race.
‘Yes, quite,’ he said. But then they walked several paces without his adding a single word.
Charlotte bit the inside of her lip to keep from prompting him.
‘I have heard rumours, Lady Charlotte,’ he said at last.
He turned them abruptly down a side path which led them back in the direction of the house.
‘Rumours?’ she breathed. Between her anxious hopes for the conversation and the strange new direction it had taken, she was out of sorts.
‘Hints of scandal, Lady Charlotte,’ Lieutenant Roberts said.
Then he turned and looked her in the eyes.
‘I do hope you might dispel them.’
Chapter 32
Roberts was on the move. Max watched from just outside the archway as the lieutenant led Charlotte from the ballroom.
Good show, old chap. Now I must pray you will succeed in coaxing a confession—and do my part to see that the confession becomes public.
The source of the story was the key. Who would believe Max, accused of a crime, missing for three years, returning unexpectedly and without proper familial support? And no one would mind what Roberts had to say on the subject. He was just a half-pay lieutenant who had done little to distinguish himself, other than to be Max’s loyal friend.
Miss Whitmore knew the truth, but she was no more than a lady whose family was on the verge of financial ruin, something far too many people seemed to be aware of. No, Max needed another witness. Someone whose account would be seen as unimpeachable. Someone from a highly respected family, whose good will was highly sought after.
His eyes darting about, Max finally spied the person he had chosen: Miss Augusta Emma d’Este. He could only hope she would be as friendly now as she had been an hour past.
Would the ton question her reliability, as young as she was? It was her only flaw as his unknowing emissary. Her account of Charlotte’s confessions might be regarded as nothing more than fanciful girlish piffle.
But who will dare say so? Who will risk offending Miss d’Este and annoying His Majesty the King, by extension?
Making haste, Max crossed through the crowd and came to stand beside Miss d’Este.
‘My lady, if you would be so generous, I very much desire to share another turn around the ballroom with you,’ Max said, bowing to her.
Miss d’Este, who still stood with her redheaded companion, sighed and then gave her friend a quick look of glee. ‘Why Mr. Emery, what a nice surprise!’ she said, and took his proffered hand.
I must take the risk, Max thought. She is my best hope.
It was known that Lady Charlotte Emery was Miss d’Este’s friend. That could work against him, or in his favour. Some would say that Miss d’Este and Charlotte must have quarrelled, and Miss d’Este sought to ruin Charlotte’s good name in retaliation. But from the little he had heard said of the king’s granddaughter, she was not thought of as petty. He hoped, instead, that everyone would see her repudiation of Charlotte as the act of a well-bred young lady who had truly discovered a shocking truth about her one-time friend.
Max smiled at Miss d’Este as the musicians struck up a waltz. As much as he had wished to avoid the intimacy of this dance an hour before, now he welcomed the freedom it allowed him. It suited Max’s purposes splendidly. He whirled the lady around the room, moving ever closer to the windows, which had been opened to allow the circulation of air once the ballroom became too stifling. Once he reached his goal, he began to guide her to dance within earshot of the area.
All that remained was for Roberts to bring Charlotte close enough, and then the challenge was bringing the pieces of the puzzle together all at once. The waltz must end and Max must guide Miss d’Este to take air at the window just as Roberts succeeded in drawing the confession from Charlotte’s lips.
Glancing out, Max saw that Roberts and Charlotte were making their way closer.
Perfect, Max thought. Now’tis just a matter of good timing.
***
‘Good heavens, Alice, I thought I had lost you forever,’ Emilia exclaimed when she came upon her friend, who had tucked herself away almost behind a large vase and bouquet in the corner of the ballroom.
‘Emilia!’ Alice cried. ‘What a joy to be found.’
They grabbed each other’s hands and Emilia gave her friend a genuine smile. ‘Dear Alice. Have you been very unhappy, waiting here?’
‘Oh no,’ Alice said. ‘Would you believe it? I danced with a viscount. Me, Alice Bromley, daughter of a baker, with Viscount Lisle, son of the Earl of Talbot. A viscount!’
Emilia could not help but laugh, her heart was so joyful on Alice’s behalf. ‘Leave it to you to charm a viscount ahead of me.’
‘Oh, but do not tell me you have been unsuccessful, my dear?’ Alice said.
Emilia sighed. ‘I have been distracted,’ she confessed. At that, she relayed the events since Maximilian Emery appeared and rescued her from Mr. Dassel.
‘Lord Ceastre!’ a man’s voice barked behind Emilia, interrupting her narrative and startling her. She turned to see a young man with cherubic blond curls hurrying to an older gentleman’s side. For a moment Emilia did not recognize him, and then her mind placed him, much to her astonishment.
‘Why, it’s Edward Emery,’ she breathed. ‘How he has aged, in only three years.’
‘Edward Emery?’ Alice said. ‘The current Earl of Ceastre?’
‘The very one,’ Emilia said, and she took Alice’s hand and led her to step closer to the gentleman.
‘Lord Ceastre!’ the cherubic-haired man exclaimed again.
‘Why, Lord Ferriston, whatever is the matter?’ Edward Emery replied. Emilia could not bring herself to think of him as ‘Lord Ceastre’ or ‘the earl,’ for she knew he had no proper claim to these forms of address.
‘Tis Lady Charlotte,’ the blond man—Lord Ferriston—said.
‘My daughter? What of her?’ Emery responded, his face darkening with concern.
‘She has left the ball to take the air outside with some gentleman I do not recognize, and they have left the terrace. ’Tis most unseemly.’
Oh no, thought Emilia. This Lord Ferriston will make a muddle of everything.
‘The devil, you say!’ Emery barked, his cheeks reddening. He turned to look out the window but from where they stood, they saw nothing of Lady Charlotte without. ‘Come along, Ferriston, let’s set this situation to rights, shall we?’
Emilia gasped as Emery and Ferriston began to navigate the tight crowd, making for the archway to the great drawing room, where they would surely exit to the terrace and garden beyond. She pulled Alice with her as she moved through the press of people, seeking to find Maximilian to warn him.
There he was, waltzing with Miss d’Este.
Despite her knowledge of his plan, the sight gave Emilia a horrid pang of jealousy.
You forget yourself, Emilia. Miss d’Este is just the sort of lady he should court and marry. A noble, like himself, and a very sweet girl, as well.
But she could not bring herself to wish for it.
The music ended, and Miss d’Este curtseyed to the handsome true earl as he bowed in return.
With a little mental shake, Emilia cast aside her feelings and raised herself on her toes, angling to catch the earl’s eye. At last he looked her way, and she gestured to Emery and Ferriston, just now disappearing through the door to the drawing room.
***
Confound it, Max thought with frustration as he followed Miss Whitmore’s motion.
A gentleman he could not fail to recognize, although he had aged, was pushing through the crowd of guests to the archway leading to the next room. The gentleman was wearing a powdered wig and an elaborately embroidered court suit-coat. It was Uncle Edward, accompanied by a younger gentleman, and unless Max was mistaken, they would soon leave the house, no doubt in search of Charlotte. Why else would Miss Whitmore have gone out of her way to warn him?
If they interrupt Roberts now, we are unlikely to have another opportunity to provoke a confession.
There was nothing for it. He must stop his uncle. Digging his nails into his palms he forced a smile at Miss d’Este. ‘Thank you ever so much, Miss d’Este. I do hope we shall have another opportunity before the night is through,’ he said to the lady, who giggled at him.
