As the group began to discuss the schedule of lectures for the following day, Charlotte found her attention wandering. Spotting Moretti across the room, she gave an inward cringe on recalling Wrexford’s rudeness. Marco had been a loyal friend to her, and without his stalwart support during her husband’s black moods, life in Rome would have been a good deal harder.
She owed him an apology—
A courtly greeting suddenly cut through the hum of conversation, the mellifluous voice coiling and coiling like a cobra around her rib cage.
Her heart squeezed to a stop.
Breathe,she told herself.Just breathe.
By sheer strength of will, Charlotte regained control of her emotions and forced air into her lungs. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t—betray any hint of weakness.
Not to this monster.
Slowly, slowly, she pivoted to face Justinian DeVere.
CHAPTER 7
“DeVere!” Sir Robert sounded surprised. “I wasn’t aware that you had returned to England.”
“I only just arrived.”
From his sleek, silver-threaded hair and patrician profile to his perfectly tied cravat and well-tailored evening clothes, DeVere was the very picture of a faultless English gentleman. Charlotte, however, knew better.
“Thank heaven the wind and weather were in our favor,” continued DeVere. “The symposium promises to be a memorable event, what with the impressive array of international scholars gathered for the occasion. I simply felt I couldn’t miss it.”
DeVere’s companion, a tall, handsome man with an oily smile, looked to Hosack and quickly assumed a mournful expression. “What a shock about Becton. I knew his heart was weak, but . . .” He shook his head. “A cruel twist of fate that it should happen now. My condolences—I know the two of you were good friends.”
“Thank you, Quincy,” replied the doctor.
“We, too, were close,” replied Quincy, and then heaved a sigh. “Indeed, we were on the verge of entering into a partnership. But alas, now that is not to be.”
A tiny frown pinched between Hosack’s brows, but it was gone in an instant. “Let us turn the talk to more pleasant things. Allow me to introduce Lady Charlotte—”
“Mr. DeVere and I are acquainted with each other,” she said.
“Indeed, we are.” DeVere inclined a well-mannered bow. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
She acknowledged his words with a cold smile.
“And tell me, how is your dear cousin Nicholas?”
Her face froze for an instant. HowdareDeVere have the gall to ask such a question!
His role in the horrific Bloody Butcher murders of the previous year—the spree had left one of her cousins dead and his twin brother unfairly accused of the crime—had never been made public. The authorities had deemed that revealing the truth would result in a scandal that might do irreparable harm to the highest circles of Society. Granted, DeVere hadn’t actually wielded a weapon. His crime had been one of omission, as he had not lifted a finger to prevent his ward from carrying out her mad scientific experiments.
But to Charlotte, who had nearly lost her own life in stopping the madness, he was guilty as sin.
“Nicholas is settling into his duties as Baron Chittenden,” she replied. “But he misses his brother terribly.”
“Understandably so, after such an unfortunate tragedy,” he replied calmly. “But time eventually dulls the pain of such loss.”
“Does it?” Charlotte held his gaze, refusing to flinch.
It was DeVere who looked away. “Dr. Hosack, do I guess right in assuming the officer with whom you were just chatting is Captain Daggett?” he asked.
It was as if she had ceased to exist.
“Quincy and I have heard excellent things about his scientific expertise,” continued DeVere. “Might I ask you to introduce us?”
