“He won’t even remember the way to Catesby’s office to complain. I wouldn’t worry, dear. Just try to keep moving if you don’t want to get cornered,” the Earl chuckled, looking Charlotte up and down.
He clearly did not recognize her, which Charlotte was glad of. She regretted her own recklessness now. If she were indeed discovered, then it would beAmeliawho was being discovered. Her reputation would be at risk.
“Thank you for the advice, my lord. I was sent by... um... Master Catesby, to find the Duke of Bellmonte. Do you happen to know where he might be found?”
Tewkesbury frowned, peering into Charlotte’s eyes. She held her breath, wondering if he had recognized her voice. But after a moment, he shook himself and glanced at a staircase that ran up one wall of the room to disappear above.
“The Duke of Bellmonte, eh? I think I saw him being escorted upstairs to one of the private rooms by a rather lovely young lady.”
He glanced at his companion.
“Oh, not a patch on you, my dear,” he put in quickly with a grimace, “but lovely just the same. I don’t think he would care to be interrupted, though. What is it old Catesby wants? The grey-haired old rascal.”
“I don’t know, milord. I was told to go find him, that’s all,” Charlotte grated, growing utterly vexed at this new revelation.
So that is the way it is then.
“He’s getting a bit old for the place, I think. Too old to tackle the staircase himself,” Tewkesbury chuckled again.
“Yes, I think so,” she murmured back, contemplating whether she had received the answer that she had arrived here seeking, and whether she should turn back.
There was a pause. Then Tewkesbury reached for her mask and tipped it upward, exposing her face.
“Catesby is younger than you, Lady Nightingale. He inherited the place from the old man last year, or so he told me when I became a member yesterday.”
Charlotte clutched her mask, thrust it down, and looked around wildly. Thankfully, no one else was paying attention.
“What is Seth playing at, bringing you here?” Tewkesbury demanded with an irreverent finger. “You should leave immediately!”
“He did not bring me,” Charlotte whispered hastily, fighting for self-control. “I came to find him and have him answer some questions about his intentions toward me—”
“If you care for the man at all, then you do not want to see him at his club. Particularly when the club is Catesby’s. This is a den of iniquity and vice, my lady.”
Charlotte scowled. “And yet, you are a member.”
“Iam a bachelor.Youare Seth’s betrothed. If you wish to remain so, then I suggest you leave. Nothing can be gained by seeing him while he is...”
Tewkesbury frowned and flushed, searching for words.
“If he is…” she began, leaving the last part unspoken, “then I must know, if I am to decide whether I care to continue with this betrothal. I will not be left to wonder forever if he is faithful.”
At that moment, the girl on Tewkesbury’s arm giggled behind a quaint hand.
“Be silent, wench!” Tewkesbury roared, pushing her away. “Lady Nightingale, allow me to escort you from this place...”
But Charlotte had already spotted the leering brute who’d slapped her bottom swaggering in through a door in the far corner. Close behind him came another man—young, sharp in his dress, with dark hair and an unmistakable air of authority.
The drunkard scanned the room with lazy menace.
Searching for me, undoubtedly…
A chill threaded down her spine.
I had better make myself scarce before they see me, lest my identity be discovered…
Charlotte ducked her head and slipped away from Tewkesbury’s outstretched arm, weaving through the crowd of swaying bodies and liquor-laced laughter. She reached the staircase just as the drunken man turned, spotted her, and jabbed a finger her way. His companion’s eyes found hers. He nodded and started towards Charlotte, pushing his way through the crowd. Charlotte took the remaining steps at a dash.
The stairs led to a corridor with doors on both sides and a window at the far end. There was no indication of which door Seth was behind. Charlotte opened one a crack. A breathy moan, then a man’s rough laughter. She recoiled, heart pounding, and shut it fast. Footsteps echoed behind her—quick, purposeful. Skirts in hand now, she hurried along the corridor, but she could not bring herself to open any other doors.
