“How about a glass of champagne, then?” Hugh asked.
“I’d like that,” she said.
They retreated to the outer rim of the ballroom floor where he stopped a servant carrying a silver tray, and retrieved two sparkling glasses of champagne.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding first to the servant and then to Hugh before slipping the fluted glass under her veil to sip the liquid.
Hugh took a satisfying mouthful of his drink, tasting the quality of the grape in his glass. Mrs. Dove-Lyon only served the best to her clients.
“So, what are the rules of this game?” he asked after his thirst was quenched. “If you are forbidden from revealing your name, how are we supposed to get to know one another better?”
“Is a name so important?” she asked, taking another sip of champagne.
“Of course not. After all, what’s in a name?” He smiled and retrieved the rose from his breast pocket. “That which we call ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”
She jerked the glass out from under her veil and coughed as though she’d just choked on her drink.
“Are you quite all right?” he asked, quickly stuffing the rose back into his breast pocket.
She nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. I swallowed too fast, I think.” She turned momentarily away, presumably to wipe her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said when she’d turned to face him again. “I think this was a mistake. I should go.”
“What?” His stomach sank at the prospect. “I don’t understand. Did I say something to offend you?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that I—” She stepped away from him.
“I do wish you would stay,” he said. “The game has only just begun, and if you go now, I shall be left wondering what I did to chase you away.”
“I—no I—” She appeared to be flustered, and Hugh could not make sense of this sudden change in her demeanor.
Suddenly, a veiled figure clad in black appeared at his side. It was the proprietor, the Black Widow of Whitehall.
“Mr. Warsham,” she said. “I see you’ve taken a break from the tables. How are you enjoying our games tonight?” She turned and looked poignantly at his veiled companion before turning back to him.
Hugh bowed. “Very much,” he said.
“How could you not when in the company of such a charming companion?” she said, giving the young lady’s arm a firm pat before sashaying away, and leaving them both staring after her.
The bizarre encounter unnerved Hugh but seemed to calm his companion, whose posture relaxed as she sipped a little more of her champagne. Hugh narrowed his eyes. He felt as though he were an insect caught in a deceptively pleasant web. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fallen into one of the widow’s traps. Yet, he had no desire to escape—not just yet.
Charlotte’s panic subsided,but she eyed Hugh cautiously. Why had he quoted that specific line fromRomeo and Juliet?Could it have been a coincidence, or had he known all along that she was a Rose? She’d been unnerved and ready to end the charade, but the sudden appearance of Mrs. Dove-Lyon—how had she known to appear at that exact moment?—reminded Charlotte of her purpose. The intent was for her to befriend Hugh Warsham to help both her family and his family, not to injure or deceive the young man. This game was not about deceit. Hermia had said that masking games were a favorite amongst Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s clientele and were played multiple times at the Lyon’s Den.
Concealing one’s identity, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had explained, allowed the man only a hazy glimpse of a woman’s features, which could be highly intriguing, and it prompted him to spend more time focusing on the woman, herself, talking to her andasking her questions that would ultimately bring them closer. It would allow Hugh to get to know her without the prejudice of her name or her beauty. It was, simply, the only way they could become friends.
Charlotte liked the idea of diverting a gentleman’s attention away from her face. After receiving multiple marriage proposals and being dubbed the “Rose of Mayfair,” she appreciated the concept of getting to know a gentleman without the distraction of her beauty. Yet, it hardly seemed fair in this case because Hugh Warsham was himself exceedingly handsome—no, handsome was not the right word. He was beautiful. More than once, she’d found herself distracted by the burst of gold around the pupils of his eyes. It was like the sun itself lived inside him and was shining outwards. No doubt, he was used to being besieged by women and might have also appreciated a disguise of some sort.
Nonetheless, she was not one for secrets and would not keep this game up for long before she revealed her name to him. But there was no sense in doing so now and risking him snubbing her before they got to know each other a little better. If their mamas could remain friends despite their husbands’ idiotic feud, then it should not be so hard for her and Hugh to become fast friends as well, and put an end to the strife for good.
“Please stay.” Hugh flashed her a winning smile. “I’m only just getting to know you. It hardly seems fair for you to abandon the game now.”
“Very well,” Charlotte said. “We’ll continue the game through questions and answers. You may begin by asking the first question and then I ask the next one, and so forth.”
His eyes twinkled, indicating that he liked the idea. “Very well.” He paused before saying, “Are you here to secure a husband?”
Charlotte was momentarily taken aback by his forthright question, but she was pleased to be able to answer it honestly. While Mrs. Warsham and Mrs. Dove-Lyon were hoping to make a marriage match between her and Hugh, her only intent was to befriend him and see how things unraveled.
“No,” she said simply.
“Really? Isn’t that the reason women come to this establishment?”
