I scanned the crowd again and saw Lord Trowbridge standing with Sophia against one wall of the ballroom. I followed his eyes.
They were set on Clara.
The longing in his gaze was unmistakeable.
I looked at her face—she hadn’t noticed him yet. I nudged her arm and nodded my head discreetly in his direction. She glanced at him, then turned her head away in one swift motion. “Charlotte!”
I gave her an innocent look. “What is the matter? He deserved to be caught if he was going to stare so unabashedly at you.” I winked.
A crease set between her brows as she scanned the crowd. Her gaze focused on something across the room. Her foreheadsoftened, and her mouth quirked upward. “Oh? Then we must put a stop tothatimmediately.”
I followed her eyes to where James stood, watching us—watching me.I looked away quicker than Clara had, and tried to decipher what I had seen—briefly—in his eyes. Was it resentment? Admiration? I couldn’t tell, so I allowed myself to look at him again.
He was wearing a formal jacket and white cravat. His hair was neat, black as the sky, the contrast of his eyes as stark as the candles shining from the windows. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on me. I tried to draw a breath. Slowly, a smile formed on his face, and my heart skipped. Perhaps it hadn’t been resentment I had seen.
Despite my every effort, I smiled back—careful and tentative—and then he was walking toward me.
I tried to think of what I might say to him, but then I looked at Clara, at the sadness in her eyes, and knew exactly what I needed to say.
James stopped just in front of me. Before he could speak, I opened my mouth. “I need your help.”
“Your servant awaits.” He smiled, and I had to look away. He looked far too handsome tonight.
“We must do something to bring them together,” I whispered. I nodded my head toward where Lord Trowbridge stood, then at Clara, who was standing with slack shoulders, engaged in a quiet conversation with Rachel. Her eyes darted across the room every few seconds without fail. “What can we do?”
James rubbed his jaw. “This is a dangerous game, Charlotte. You wish to play matchmaker with me as your assistant?”
“We must try, at least.”
He gave a slow nod. “I daresay we will make a dreadful team—especially with business of the heart.” His eyes were teasing,but his mouth was serious. Somehow it made him even more attractive.
I kept my focus on the business at hand. I couldn’t allow him to unsettle me. “We are both partially to blame for their separation. You told your brother things that you knew would distance him from Clara, and I should never have told you the truth in the first place.” I cringed at the bitterness in my voice. “You will never forgive me for it.”
His eyes searched mine, and I found myself trapped in them. “I'm glad you told me what you did about your intentions.” He stepped forward and smiled in a flirtatious way. “Otherwise I might have fallen madly in love with you.”
His words hit me hard, and my heart quickened. “M-my intentions?”
“To marry a man with wealth and a title.”
Oh, yes. I had nearly forgotten. I searched his face despite the dangers of doing so, hoping to find clues of some kind. His eyes were so difficult to read—teasing one moment and serious the next—hiding a misunderstanding of sorts. I adjusted my gloves. “How fortunate then…that I told you the truth.”
James's jaw tightened as he looked down. “What shall we call this operation then?” he whispered.
I raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“Our matchmaking scheme.”
I tugged at my gloves another moment longer, trying to dispel the discomfort between us. “We must be discreet.” I gave a sideways smile. “Shall we call it…Lady Trowbridge?”
James rolled his eyes dramatically. “That is not discreet at all.”
I put a hand on my hip. “Your ideas?”
“There is plenty of greenery to draw inspiration from…holly, bay, laurel?—”
“Mistletoe?” I suggested. “That's romantic.”
He smiled with mischief. “Only if you plan to use it. If we could somehow drive them both toward the servant's wing, there is plenty of mistletoe there.”
