expression. “I did ask you to be quiet, Charlotte. Let me take care of this.”
“No,” Devon said, handing his cloak to his wife. “We’ve fought each other plenty of times at the fencing salon. Why don’t we settle our differences with another match?”
There was time only to nudge Charlotte back toward the sofa before he swung around to defend himself. Gideon understood why Devon was enraged; given a chance he could explain this predicament when the young hothead was ready to listen to reason.
But for now a pair of great fists were flying at him, right and left. He ducked, dancing around a chair until it was obvious he was either going to knock Devon out or take a hit himself.
“Stop it!” Colonel Lord Heath Boscastle inserted his lean frame between the two hard-breathing opponents, his brother Drake pushing over his shoulder. “If you do end up fighting you will do it at the proper time and place, and
not
with ladies present. For all we know, there is no reason to quarrel.”
Gideon turned, inadvertently meeting Charlotte’s gaze. The regret in her eyes looked too genuine for him to believe this had been an elaborate scheme.
He pulled his neck cloth loose, then looked around again to discover Devon glowering at him.
“I thought you were too interested in her at the ball.”
Gideon’s eyes flashed in warning. “It was your idea for me to ask her to dance.”
Colonel Lord Heath Boscastle intervened again. “The rest of this conversation will be conducted at Grayson’s house in private tomorrow. I think it is safe to say that this hunt is over and it’s time for everyone to go home.”
Chapter 11
H arriet had just returned to the front steps after searching the mews behind the garden when the subdued group emerged from the duke’s town house. She came immediately to Charlotte’s side and took her hand.
“Did you find it?” Charlotte whispered.
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“In the carriage house and the rear,” Harriet whispered back. “And then I caught a glimpse of you and him in the study. Just weep buckets when anyone questions you. Pretend to faint.”
“I wish you’d found that wretched diary.”
“Look on the bright side. At least after tonight you have some genuine experience to write about.”
Charlotte looked around.
Devon was scowling at her as if she were a Hydra-headed monster. Her cousins-in-law, Jane and Jocelyn,gave her supportive looks. At least Jane seemed to have sympathy for the situation. The other members of the party hurried toward their carriage. As she passed Charlotte she whispered, “Chin up. Lips sealed.”
Her dark-haired cousin Drake strode toward her, inclining his head to murmur, “Let those blue eyes talk for you.”
But Heath, the Sphinx and master of the intimidating silence—he whose gaze could penetrate stone and the human soul, the man who had served as her guardian when she first came to London—sat back and stared at her in unblinking absorption during the entire drive home, his finger propped beneath his chin. Was he upset? Was he disgusted? Amused? Disinterested? No one could know for certain. It was best for her to hold her tongue until she knew how her explanation would be received.
Nevertheless it was clear she had fulfilled the family legacy. She had brought disgrace upon herself and proved that her blood ran with all the passion of her predecessors.
Gideon went upstairs with a bottle of brandy and drank half of it before he fell back on the bed. His “guests” had departed.
He was too tired and conflicted tonight to solve anyone’s problems. He had gone out earlier in the evening certain he would make an arrangement with a courtesan. Instead, he’d ended up mired in scandal.
If there was an exit from the situation that would not damage Charlotte’s name, he could not see it.
God, he wished he did not despise cowardice.
He would be forced to choose between dishonor or marriage, which was quite an accomplishment on
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley