Young women, nudged by their mamas, hovered at the peripheries until Charlotte invited them to join the conversation and then he’d been bombarded with questions about the weather (unseasonably wet), how he was enjoying the party (just barely), and what he thought of the latest dress fashion (it all looked the same to him).
Once the circle reached a critical point of women, young men joined the fray. He knew a handful of them by name—they’d been a few years beneath him at school. The men were…scornful. They barely acknowledged John and were quick to interrupt when the women directed questions his way.
Perhaps they thought it would annoy him. They clearly didn’t realize that they could have all the attention if that’s what they wanted.
Charlotte’s charm was in full force. She did not discriminate with her affections. She flirted with every man and woman who stood before them. The effect that she had on the gathered party was visible—young women stilled their fidgeting hands and spoke with more confidence; young men puffed up their chests. They all leaned toward her without noticing and looked to her for approval when they spoke.
She glowed.
John found it hard to comprehend. Surely, she could notlikeall these people as much as she appeared to. Surely, she was bestowing sunshine on them all because she was too kind to shine on a few and not others. Surely, she found this constant attention at least a little exhausting.
Viscount Lionell wandered over to their group. The relaxed confidence of the women fled as they flicked their eyes toward their skirts, their necklines, and their gloves. John could understand their sudden self-consciousness. Even he could appreciate Lionell’s good looks. The viscount had golden-blond hair pulled back in a perfect queue, his cravat tied in the kind of intricate knot an expert valet would spend an hour on, and sky-blue eyes that focused on Charlotte the moment he joined the group.
Lionell had looks, a title that had been his for more than five minutes, an estate that was known to be in very good health, and a reputation for being everywhere. This was a man who would be Charlotte’s perfect partner.
“My lady,” he said, bending over her hand and leaving a kiss that lingered long enough that John felt the urge to thump him.
Charlotte tugged her fingers from his and grasped her fan with both hands. “Lord Lionell. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“You are as beautiful as always. There isn’t a woman in the room that could hold a candle to you.”
The ladies around John felt the blow. Their energy shifted, and their eyes darted away from the couple in front of them.
Charlotte laughed lightly, an affect that would sound amused to most people, but John saw the sharpening of her gaze, like a blade against a whetstone. He wouldn’t change places with Lord Lionell for the entire eighty thousand pounds needed to drag him out of trouble.
Charlotte batted Lionell’s shoulder with her fan, the sharpcrackout of step with her playful smile. “How abominably rude. I trust you’ve met my friends, Miss Ashby, Miss Portsmith…”she rattled off names as she gestured to their companions.
The girls ducked their heads as though trying to avoid Lionell’s attention. It was only then that John realized Charlotte’s affections so far that evening had been spent on the outcasts—Americans and misses and shy young ladies who didn’t fit current beauty standards. These women weren’t fidgeting because they felt some sort of desire for Lionell. They feared him.
As an outcast himself, their pain resonated. His first instinct was to take each of them by the hand and guide them away gently, but that would only make them larger targets later.
Lionell flicked the barest glance at their companions. “Your association with them is quite to your credit, Lady Charlotte. Your charitable endeavors are second to none. My mother speaks of your good work often.”
Miss Ashby paled. Miss Portsmith’s hand went to her chest as though Lionell’s remarks were physical.
Charlotte drew in a deep breath and for a moment, John wasn’t sure what he was about to witness; the way she shifted slightly, as though to put herself between the girls and their bully, the way she drew herself taller, shoulders straightening, chest rising, made him wonder if Charlotte was about to break her fan or her fist against the vicious viscount.
John would step in, of course, after she’d landed one good blow.
To his surprise, her smile only widened. “It is not charity, Lord Lionell, although I can understand how you’d be confused given your lack of experience with the matter. My companions are liked for their personality rather than a title. One day, perhaps, you’ll develop one and then you’ll see what I mean.”
The insult was delivered so smoothly, as though she were commenting on the weather, but it was not lost on anyone. Miss Ashby couldn’t suppress a smile, and even the way she brought her fan to her face couldn’t disguise her mirth when the corners of her eyes clearly crinkled.
Lionell obviously noticed, because a muscle ticked along his jaw and the tips of his ears turned bright red. “There are only two aspects to a title-hunting American’s personality: vulgarity and boorishness.”
The amusement fled from Miss Ashby’s expression. In that brief second before she trained her gaze on the floor, John saw her eyes fill with tears.
Charlotte’s anger was palpable. Her fingers tightened around her fan, and he couldn’t help calculating what force would be required for her to draw blood with it.
He stepped forward, standing side by side with Charlotte, as her lieutenant or sidekick or whatever she needed in the moment.
“Miss Ashby,” he said, without dropping his gaze from the cruel viscount. “Would you grant me the honor of this dance?”
Chapter 11
He was a bit of a hero, Charlotte decided, watching as John spun Miss Ashby around the dance floor. She’d been able to cut Viscount Lionell down to size, but she would never have been able to achieve what John had.
When the reclusive Viscount Harrow, whose rare presence in society only made him more intriguing, announced that no woman could inspire him to dance and then asked a girl to waltz, he was effectively singling her out as remarkable.
