Before anyone noticed they were gone.
Beforethe dukenoticed they were gone.
Char did not wait for him but lifted her skirts and rushed to the door.
Inside, all seemed exactly as she’d left it, and yet, everything was different.
The duke had returned. He scanned the crowd, looking for her. He wanted her.
She waved, a small gesture, catching his attention. He smiled and came for her.
And from the portico, she knew Whitridge watched.
During her second dance of the evening with the duke, an act that shouted louder than words that he was staking a claim to her, Whitridge left the assembly. She knew.
She watched him go.
Not once since she had returned to the ballroom had he looked at her, and he didn’t look as he left, either.
On the step of the house on Mulberry Street, the duke asked her to call him Gavin, “When we in private, like we are now.”
Lady Baldwin, who had imbibed a bit too much at the ball, had already hurried inside out of the cold.
Char was anxious to go in herself but felt one of them needed to soberly thank the duke for his many kindnesses over the evening. The dowager had taken a ride with her friends.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
He took her gloved hand, lifted it to his lips, and turning the wrist, placed his kiss there.
Char could feel the heat of his breath through the thin leather.My brother is a good man. An excellent man. You could do no better.
“Thank you... Gavin.” Her brain treated his name like a foreign word. A very personal word.
He released her hand. “Until the morrow.”
“Yes, that would be nice.” She stepped into the doorway, his signal to leave.
“Gavin” backed away as if not wanting to take his eyes off her. His footman held open the door. “Gavin” swung himself into the coach.
Char shut the door, and feared she would collapse. Only then did she feel free to finally relax the smile that had begun to seem plastered to her face.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked, coming from the front room.
“Oh yes,” she lied.
“How was the evening?”
“Good.”
Sarah tilted her head. “The way he lingered on the step, I would think it was more than just ‘good’?”
Char knew she should say more, but if she did, she had the strange suspicion that she might burst into tears.
And one wasn’t expected to cry... especially when—what? She had a handsome, important, wealthy man interested in her?
Whitridge was nothing to her except a man who had been kind. She didn’t know why she was so disappointed or had expected something more. “I’m tired. I believe I shall go to bed.”
“Of course,” Sarah answered, sounding slightly deflated. “Lady Baldwin has already gone up.”
