The shrew dragged her eyes from Charlotte’s stricken expression and turned her attention to John. “Lady Mortlake is having a gathering tomorrow night. There will be an invitation waiting for you when you return home. I look forward to seeing you there.”
A gathering. Where he was going to have to talk with other members of theton. Where he was going to have to practice niceties he didn’t feel. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her where to take Lady Mortlake’s invitation, but until he found another solution to his financial woes, he couldn’t set fire to this particular bridge. He swallowed hard. “I’ll b-be there.”
The scorn on Luella’s face as he stumbled over his words caused heat to creep up his neck. The two sentries she had with her twittered.
“It’s a shame that you’re not invited,” Luella said to Charlotte, throwing one last triumphant look in her rival’s direction as she left.
“Well,” Charlotte said, plastering a clearly false smile on her face. “That was unpleasant. One more example why we need a way out of this situation.”
***
Charlotte was still fuming at Luella’s comments when John dropped her off at the front of Wildeforde House. Luella was simply theworst. How dare she insinuate Charlotte was unlikable? And in front of John! Charlotte’s ears burned just thinking about the insult—which was patently untrue.
She was beloved. She worked very hard to be so. Supporting causes was charitable. Joining committees was responsible. Making wallflowers comfortable in a ballroom was kind. Only a monster like Luella would suggest that any of these were bad things.
“I’m fine, Grace,” she said in response to her maid’s concerned look. “Go about your errands. It’s only two blocks to Lady Pembroke’s home. I’ll be perfectly fine without an escort. Her maid can accompany us to Bond Street.”
“If you’re sure, my lady.”
Charlotte was sure. She needed to walk off her embarrassment. There was no good reason that Luella’s comments should have frozen Charlotte’s tongue as they had. Luella had said plenty of awful things in the past and Charlotte had had a retort for each of them. But Luella’s snipes had never hit so personally before.
John, to his credit, had been perfectly kind. Once Luella had departed, he’d made no mention of the comments and had instead described a recent report on the long-term effects of the eruption of Mount Tambora. She’d had no idea the particularly chilly year of 1816 was due to a volcanic eruption, nor that debris could hang in the air for such a long time. The yellow skies that she’d thought uncommonly pretty, but that she hadn’t questioned the provenance of, were, in fact, the result of sunlight interacting with gases in the atmosphere.
His storytelling had almost distracted her from her anger. Almost. Until he’d taken her hand and told her, “I like that you champion wallflowers.”
And then she was reminded once more of how Luella had thoroughly bested her, and how frustrated she was, and how she needed to be better prepared for their next encounter.
She’d been marching quickly toward Josie’s home on the corner of Berkeley Square for no more than thirty seconds, rehearsing future comebacks to such insults, when a young man with a shock of curly orange hair that clashed vividly with his bright red soldier’s uniform appeared from nowhere. He clamped a hand onto her wrist and dragged her toward a waiting hackney cab.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” She swung her reticule, taking satisfaction in the solid thud as it hit her assailant up the side of the neck. There was a roll of pennies inside; William had taught her that safety trick long ago.
“Ouch. Blast. I’msorry.” The boy tried to raise both arms to protect his head, wincing as he did so. That was when she noticed the sling holding one wrist against his uniform.
“YouareLady Charlotte Stirling, sister of Captain Stirling?”
Charlotte’s hand clenched around the strings of her reticule, ready to swing once more. Only the mention of her brother gave her pause. William had been in the army for almost four years—ever since Edward had thrown him out of the house and cut him off for his irresponsible behavior. She’d received only sporadic letters from him since. “Who’s asking?”
The boy’s free hand tugged at the frayed edge of his sling as he looked around before leaning close to her and whispering, “I have a message from the captain. He asks that you come to him immediately.”
Her heart plummeted. It was a ruse, surely. A cruel one, given how desperately she wanted to see her brother again. If William was home, the army would have sent official word to Edward. William would have returned to Wildeforde House, or at least to his bachelor’s residence, and sent for her through a proper footman, not a grimy lad in a uniform so worn and filthy it was almost unrecognizable.
“My brother is fighting in Burma. Now leave me at once and be glad I don’t report you for accosting a lady in the streets.”
“Sorry ’bout that,” the boy muttered. “Captain said you weren’t an uptight one.” He dug into his jacket pocket and then held out his palm. In it was a ring she knew well—one that bore the Wildeforde crest. It was a masculine version of the ring that currently sat snug on her right hand. It bore a small sapphire.
She snatched it from the boy’s hand. “Where did you get this?” she asked as her fingers closed over it, pressing the metal into her palm.
“I told you—your brother. Please. He needs you.”
It would be beyond foolish to go anywhere with this man. He was a complete stranger and clearly not a gentleman. She should call for help. But the thought of William in trouble pulled at her. He was the person she loved most in this world, and she’d always been there for him when he needed her.
“If Will has truly returned, then why haven’t my brother and I been informed? If he’s hurt, then surely his superiors would have informed the duke.”
The boy shrugged, but he was not practiced in artifice well enough to conceal the fact that he was hiding something. “I don’t know why. I just know he needs you, and there is no time to argue.” There was a strained tremor to his voice. His fingers were twisting the knot of his bandage and he watched her with such desperate intensity that she was inclined to believe him.
It was possible. Her brothers had fallen out badly before William joined the army. Will had sworn that he’d never speak to Edward again. It did not beggar belief that he would return to England and not send word through proper channels.
“Where is he?” she asked. “Take me to him now.”
