She looked completely debauched. Her hair was down, her dress wrinkled, her cheeks glowing. Not to mention that it was much too early for them to leave the ball. Then Freddie was behind her in the round gilded mirror, smiling. “Wait until I get you in the carriage,” he promised.
“The carriage?” Charlotte couldn’t keep a tremor of her excitement from seeping into her voice.
“Oh, yes. We have unfinished business, Madam Yankee.”
Charlotte grimaced at the nickname, then laughed anyway because Freddie was beside her, and he wanted her, and nothing else mattered.
“Speaking of unfinished business,” Lord Winterbourne said, coming into the foyer from the dining room. “May I steal your husband for one moment, Lady Dewhurst? Lord Selbourne and I need a private word.”
“Of course,” Charlotte said, and all the delicious warmth of a few moments before dissipated. Cade. They would be talking of Cade, and if she and Dewhurst left the ball now, how would she warn Cade? Freddie gave her a look rife with promise, then turned and followed Winterbourne.
She watched her husband go, the thrum of him inside her still a lingering feeling. Perhaps Cade wasn’t here at all. He’d managed thus far on his own. Surely he could smell a trap when one was baited for him.
Silently she prayed Cade was safe and far, far away. Then she prayed Freddie would return to her soon. Prayed he would make good on the promise that had been in his eyes. Feeling a bit too warm and too dreamy for conversation, she stepped outside and meandered down the drive.
A flurry of footmen and grooms along with a smattering of guests alighting from carriages swirled around her, but she paid no notice. She saw the dark man extricate himself from the tight cluster of footmen as she passed, but her gaze drifted by him without pausing. She continued strolling, the feel of the cool English breeze pleasant on her warm flesh.
She saw the hand move behind her before she felt its weight on her shoulder. “So it’s true. You’ve turned traitor.”
Her lungs seized up and her heart thumped wildly against her ribs as Charlotte turned sharply toward the low male voice with the familiar drawl. She almost tripped, but Cade caught her. Before she could speak, he tugged at her elbow, leading her into a dark patch of shrubbery. When their figures were obscured from any onlookers, Charlotte hissed, “Cade! Oh, George, but I prayed you’d be far away from here.”
He gave a short bark of laughter. “Why? Are your own countrymen so repulsive to you now? Lottie, how could you marry that filthy spy? If your father knew, he’d roll over in his grave.”
Charlotte shook her head, her fingers gripping Cade’s sleeve desperately. “No, Cade. You don’t understand. I’m not really married to Freddie. It’s all a ruse to get to you.”
Cade’s eyes darkened. “I see.”
“No, no, you don’t see,” Charlotte said. “I had no choice. After you abandoned me, I had to do what they said.”
“I told you I’d come for you. If you had just waited—”
“Waited? How was I to know what those men intended? I did what I had to do to survive. What I had to do to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Cade sneered. “How can spreading your legs for an English bastard protect me?”
Charlotte flinched back. She’d never heard this tone in Cade’s voice before. He was just scared, pressured, and desperate. She would be, too, in his place. “Cade,” she said in her most soothing tone. “I’ve only played the part of Freddie’s wife so that I could protect you. The English government knows that you’re a spy. They want to capture you and try you for treason. I thought I could warn you, help you get to safety, and Freddie said that innocent or guilty he’d pay me one thousand dollars to play the part of his wife.”
“He’s paying you?”
“Yes. Don’t you see? The British have taken so much from me. I thought this time I could take from them, buy back Burton & Son Shipping, make everything like it was.”
But Cade was shaking his head. “Oh, Lottie. How did you ever become involved in this?” His voice was that comforting, older-brother tone she remembered.
“But I told you—”
He placed a finger over her lips and shushed her. “Do you trust me? We haven’t much time.”
“Of course.”
“Good, then let’s go.”
“But . . .” Charlotte glanced back at the Winterbourne mansion. There was no sign of her husband on the walk or in the doorway.
“Charlotte, quickly. Come with me.”
She was torn. She did not want to leave Freddie, but she had known Cade all her life, and he needed her. She would find Freddie later and explain. She would ask him to forgive her for helping Cade escape.
“Very well,” she said to Cade. “Let’s go.”
