“Can this evening become any worse?” she whispered.
“Charlotte, please share what is wrong.” Susan pleaded at her side, but she was still distracted, looking more at Margaret and David than at Charlotte at all.
“It’s what matters, isn’t it, to you?” Charlotte asked challenging Susan. “What people think of those with whom we are associated?”
Susan frowned and turned to look at her once again, not with any degree of surprise in her expression, but a plainness, as if the answer was an obvious one.
What if I was to declare to my aunt that I cared for the Duke of Rodstone. What would she say to that?
“Charlotte, come, let us talk of something else.” Susan reached toward her and laid a hand over hers. “Let us distract you from whatever woes are on your mind.”
Charlotte didn’t think it was possible to be distracted. Out of the corner of her eye, she became aware that she was being watched from across the room.
The Duke of Rodstone was still in conversation with Viscount Compton, but the duke wasn’t looking at his friend. His eyes were pinned on Charlotte. Slowly, she angled her head around and returned that gaze.
What does that look mean?
There was such intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t look away. They stared at one another far longer than could possibly be appropriate to the point that Charlotte was grateful Susan wasso distracted by staring at Margaret that she didn’t notice this inappropriateness.
He is to return to Scotland, and he will never marry. What good comes from looking at him?
With difficulty, Charlotte dragged her gaze away.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say something we just discussed upset your tutor,” Jeffrey said with ease, passing Gerard a new glass of wine for he had already finished his last.
Gerard looked down into the glass, longing to replace it with ale. At least with a cup of ale in his hand, he would feel a little more like himself. He thanked Jeffrey all the same and raised his eyes to Charlotte again across the room.
Look at me again.
Yet she wouldn’t now. After staring at him in that way he could not make sense of, she seemed most determined to now look at everyone and everything else in this room, except him.
“I also think she ran away from us then.”
“Och, she dinnae run away,” Gerard said hurriedly, gulping from his glass in his distracted manner.
“Then what was that?” Jeffrey pointed to where she had retreated. “She is quite literally hidden in a corner with her aunt now. Even if she does keep glancing your way. Are you quite sure the only thing between you and your tutor are these etiquette lessons?”
“Aye, quite certain, thank ye,” Gerard answered sharply. “There is nothing more.”
“Then do me a favor.” Jeffrey waved a hand in front of his face. “Do not stare at her so much. You’d think you were in love with her the way you did look at her.”
Gerard snapped his gaze away.
I am nae in love.
Yet he was finding it very hard not to look her way again. He was thinking of the curve of her neck, the large and beautiful eyes, the smattering of freckles across those sweetly shaped cheeks, and the way two tendrils of her dark hair teased the back of her neck.
I think she is beautiful. Aye, that is all.
Yet when Jeffrey turned away to top up his own glass, Gerard took the opportunity to look Charlotte’s way again. His stomach lurched, the wine curdling in his stomach when he saw that a gentleman had wandered over to Charlotte and Lady Susan.He had sat beside Charlotte and was trying to engage in conversation.
“Who’s that?” Gerard asked as quickly as he could.
“Mr. Michael Withers,” Jeffrey answered with a humored smile on his lips. “A man of some fortune and good reputation, from what I hear of him. Mind you, he has no title. If you wanted to impress Lady Charlotte?—”
“I am nae tryin’ to impress her.”
“No?”
