She shifted her position on her seat, straightening her back to appear a little more confident than she felt. “Well, I didn’t want to deceive him any longer so I—”
“Not ‘deceive.’” Mrs. Dove-Lyon held up a gloved finger. “I never said ‘deceive.’ You were in disguise—for the protection of your reputation and to create intrigue—to arouse the man’s interest. That was the plan. You see, Miss Rose, men are adventurous by nature. They are attracted to the mysterious—the unknown. They are hunters. They will chase what is not readily available, not easily obtained.”
Charlotte bit the inside of her lip as she remembered Hugh’s hands exploring her face, desperate to know her features—and his mouth on hers, exploring first her lips and then her mouth with his tongue. She inadvertently touched the tender spot on her neck, now covered by a pale blue ribbon that matched her dress.
Then, to Charlotte’s horror, Mrs. Dove-Lyon strode over to her, inserted a gloved finger between the satin band and her neck, and pulled back the fabric, peeking at what lay beneath.
“I see,” she said, letting the band go and smiling at Charlotte. “Well done!”
Heat seared up Charlotte’s neck, inflaming her cheeks, forehead, and scalp.
“What is it?” Lady Rose said. “What is she concealing under there?”
“Let’s just say that if Charlotte and Mr. Warsham had been attendees at a ball in Mayfair, and not under the protection afforded by this establishment, she’d be engaged.”
“Charlotte!” Lady Rose said.
“I’m sorry, Mama. It was just—he was so—”
“Did he force himself on you?” Lady Rose cried, half rising out of her seat.
“No, quite the opposite. I wanted him to…I enjoyed…”
“Stop!” Lady Rose sank back down. “I’ll hear no more.”
“You are the one who told me to open my heart, seek love, and embrace it. I know we’ve only met, but I feel a connectionwith Mr. Warsham, something I’ve never felt with the men who’ve asked Papa for my hand in marriage after a few minutes of inane conversation and two spins across the ballroom floor.”
“She’s right,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon intercepted. “This is why you came to me in the first place, is it not? Moreover, I have heard talk about a certain young lady, five-and-twenty years ago, who indulged in a little dalliance herself with her esteemed husband before they were married. Correct me if I’m wrong, but was that young lady not you?”
Charlotte turned to stare at Mama, as shocked—probably—as her mother had been with her only moments before. A dalliance? Mama? WithPapa? The idea intrigued, fascinated, and revolted her in turn. “Yes, yes. Thank you. You’re right. But how do we know young Warsham will marry Charlotte once he discovers she is a Rose? And what of Lucas? He’s a rotten seed who will no doubt do his best to ruin my daughter.”
“Leave the marriage business to me. Now, as to your cousin. Do you think him stupid enough to gossip about what he saw—or thinks he saw—in my establishment?”
“I’m afraid so. He is an exceedingly foolish and dull-witted young man.” Lady Rose shook her head.
“Well, I could send Theseus out to find him and force him to keep his mouth shut, but I don’t think that is our best option.”
“No, I don’t believe it is. Rotten as he is, I wouldn’t want harm coming to him.”
“Oh, Theseus won’t harm him, he’ll only scare him a little. Lucas will learn there is a penalty for breaking the rules of my establishment. But I think it is in your best interest for us to delay that lesson for now.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon returned to her seat and poured herself a cup of tea.
“I don’t understand,” Lady Rose said.
“I’ll wager that Lucas Richmond won’t breathe a word about what he saw last night because he will want to use that information to blackmail Charlotte into marrying him.”
Charlotte gasped. “Never!”
“Tonight—” Mrs. Dove-Lyon held up a finger to silence Charlotte—“Lady Appelbaum will host the first ball of the season. Charlotte will attend as expected. Then when young Warsham comes here looking for her, as I am certain he will do, I will ensure he knows where to find her.”
“What will you tell him?” The knot in Charlotte’s stomach doubled in size.
“The truth, my dear. And if he is worth his salt, he will not hesitate to do what is right.”
Chapter Eight
Hugh wasn’t interestedin playing games anymore. He wanted to find his mystery rose, learn her name, and gaze at her face unobstructed by a veil or darkness. He wanted to know everything about her—not because he cared to find out if she was suitable by society’s standards; he would never allow society to dictate his happiness—but because he couldn’t remember a time when he’d enjoyed himself more than the past two evenings.
As such, he’d disregarded his invitation to Lady Applebaum’s opening party. He could not bear the thought of wasting the evening dancing with a myriad of newly minted debutantes, eager to please and desperate to marry. The woman he wanted was within the walls of the Black Widow of Whitehall’s blue gaming den—or so he hoped. A small part of him dreaded the idea that she might never return after that drunken fool shone his flaming torch in her face and scared her out of her wits.
