“Yes, he is. Very interesting,” Charlotte couldn’t deny this, though wished she had not said it a second later when she saw Margaret smiling at her eagerly and Susan staring at her in shock with a slackened jaw. “Yet we are nothing more than… than…”
“Acquaintances?” Susan repeated, her voice now huskier before in something that sounded strangely like disbelief.
“Exactly,” Charlotte murmured, taking a rather large gulp of champagne. Margaret bounced on her toes, as if she were a child who had just been promised a very large present indeed. “If you two would excuse me, I might see who else is here tonight.”
“Yes, yes, go and mingle,” Susan urged with a wave of her hand. “Maybe give the Duke of Rodstone a wide berth if you do not wish your mother to become anymore excited.”
Margaret stared at her sister with wide shocked eyes, no longer bouncing, but appearing like the child who had now had her present stolen away.
Charlotte turned and walked off, hurrying down the little lanes which had been created by the planting and pots in thehothouse. It was a greatly unusual place for a ball, but she could not deny the magic of seeing the candles suspended between the planting, the soft buttery light of the candles bouncing off richly green leaves. So much planting made it rather difficult to discern faces with any great ease.
“Oh, my goodness, there he is.” She heard a sudden hissing whisper beyond the nearest palm. “Oh… well, he is dressed rather differently tonight, I must say.”
Charlotte recognized the Countess St Edmund’s voice and peered through the palm leaves, looking toward the door of the hothouse and who had just arrived.
It was the Duke of Rodstone. He stepped inside wearing a frock coat and a loose white scarf. He passed the scarf and coat to the attendant, then fell into conversation with the servant. He smiled, clearly delighting in something the servant had said, though Charlotte’s eyes did not stay on that smile. She looked down at his clothes to see a fine suit indeed, one unmistakably made at Osmund’s tailors.
The dark green waistcoat matched the hothouse perfectly, and the ivory white cravat at his throat was a mark of class, contrasting perfectly with the rich black tailcoat. He looked quite the gentleman indeed, despite his wild hair that would not lay flat. He adjusted his cravat and made it quite misaligned, though he did not notice.
Oh, Your Grace. What did you have to do that for?
She hastened toward him without thinking. She walked through the planting, past other groups, just meeting the duke as he stepped up to a drinks table and looked around the glasses with a frown. She hesitated beside him, not yet making her presence known, as she guessed what he was looking for. He sighed, evidently dismayed to see only wine on offer and no ale.
He reached for a glass of claret.
“Impressive,” she murmured. “You are remembering our lessons, Your Grace.”
He turned to face her, an easy smile on his lips. He was tall indeed as he stepped toward her, and for some reason, she felt a little breathless at his proximity.
What is this feeling?
“I impress ye, lass?” he whispered. “Well, that is a turn up for the books.”
She tutted and shook her head, growing used to his teasing by now. He chuckled at her reaction.
“I like the suit.”
“I thought it may please ye. See? I follow yer advice, me lady.”
“That you do. Except…” She looked around her. There were rather too many people to see what she wished to do next, so she beckoned the duke to follow her and retreated into a little nook created by two vast palms, with great leaves splaying out like long fingers. He followed her, to her delight, then she reached up toward him.
He stiffened, his eyes narrowing a little.
Tension seemed to wave in the air between them as she adjusted his cravat, resetting the pin in place.
“There,” she whispered, releasing him and stepping back.
“Do I meet yer estimations now?” he teased, quirking an eyebrow.
“You speak as if my estimations are an impossible thing to match.”
“Aye, I rather think they are at times.”
“Enough teasing,” she pleaded.
“I never agreed to that,” he laughed, and in spite of herself, she smiled too. They both took sips of their drinks, neither one of them looking away from each other as they did so.
Charlotte supposed she should have urged the duke that he shouldn’t stare at a lady in such a way. For some reason, the words were rather difficult to bring to her lips.
