“As do both of you, my dears.” She included Livy, who exuded freshness in a buttercup-yellow gown with frothy skirts. “I have Mrs. Q to thank for my fine looks this eve.”
Tonight had seemed the perfect occasion to debut the wine-colored taffeta Amara had made for her. The dress had little in the way of ornamentation, the daring cut drawing the eye to Charlie’s bare shoulders and cinched waist. The full skirts were overlaid with sensual black netting, and she had completed the ensemble with black gloves and a simple black ribbon and cameo tied around her neck.
“Your gown, while lovely, does not explain your exceptionally fine looks.” Tilting her head, Livy studied Charlie with acute eyes. “Fi is right. You have an extra…sparkle. Or something.”
Years of practice allowed Charlie to control her blush. Wryly, she supposed that she ought to congratulate herself on a job well done. She’d trained the Angels so well in the art of detection that now she could get away with nothing.
Nonetheless, she wasn’t about to divulge the reason why she’d taken extra care with her appearance. Why she’d had Jenny, her lady’s maid, artfully apply cosmetics to highlight the shade of her eyes and fullness of her lips. Why she’d downed a flute of champagne and yet her nerves still felt shot.
Seducing a gentleman for the first time in years was a private matter, after all.
“A sparkle or something.” His dark-blue eyes crinkling with amusement, Hadleigh bent and chucked his wife under the chin. “You are quite the poet, little queen.”
“I was going to sayglow.” Livy wrinkled her nose at him. “But that can imply a certain female condition, if you know what I mean.”
“Iknow what you mean,” Fi said with feeling.
“The queasiness hasn’t come back, has it, dear?” Livy asked.
“I am perfectly well.” Fi slanted an impish glance at her husband. “Hawk is too.”
The earl sighed while the Angels giggled and Hadleigh tried manfully to hide a smile. Fi had shared with their intimate circle that Hawksmoor was the most doting of husbands during her pregnancy. He was so attuned, in fact, that he’d started sharing some of her symptoms.
“What is the problem then?” Livy asked.
“Now that I’m back to my normal self, I have the appetite of a horse. I want to eat everything in sight. And I have the strangest cravings.”
“She wanted pickles and a Gunter’s praline ice,” Hawksmoor muttered. “At two in the morning.”
“You were such a hero to have it fetched for me.”
Fi batted her eyelashes at her earl, whose wry expression didn’t quite hide the fact that he was besotted with her.
The way Sebastian once was with me.
Charlie swatted away the thought like it was a pesky insect. The fact that she was being plagued by memories solidified the necessity of her purpose. To let go of the past, she had to live fully in the present. She was not ashamed to admit that she was a hot-blooded woman who had needs. Her paucity of bedpartners since Sebastian was likely the cause of her unwelcome fixation on him. It explained why she was seeing him everywhere, dreaming of him, obsessing over him.
In other words, she was randy, and all that energy was being channeled into the past instead of where it should be focused: on finding a living, breathing male who could satisfy her appetites.
As if Fate agreed with her assessment, Devlin joined the group.
“Ladies, gentlemen.” He made an elegant leg. “Enjoying your evening?”
As the others made chitchat, Charlie objectively admired his good looks. The chandeliers illuminated the copper sheen of his hair. His chiseled features looked rested, his jaw freshly shaven above his dark silk cravat. His forest-green tailcoat molded to his broad shoulders, his waistcoat to his trim torso, and his pantaloons looked as if they’d been painted onto his muscular legs.
He was an attractive fellow. Moreover, he was experienced and available.
Which made him perfectly suited to her purpose.
His blue eyes met hers. “You are in exceptionally fine looks, Lady Fayne.”
“You are too kind, sir. You look rather well yourself.”
His gaze widened slightly at her praise. Or perhaps it was the fact that she smiled at him, giving a subtle wave of her fan as she did so. Really, he oughtn’t look so surprised: she was fully capable of flirting, even if she seldom bothered.
“Fi, Glory, and I have made some progress on our, um”—Livy glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping—“charity case. Now that Mr. Devlin is here as well, perhaps we ought to find a quiet corner to discuss it?”
“I think Charlie may have other plans this eve,” Fi murmured.
