Charlotte tried for a smile, but suspected the result was more contorted than that. Every conversation she’d had that evening had found its way to John. It felt like death by a thousand paper cuts. “Mr. Barnesworth is returning to his commitments in Boston.”
Both girls crumpled. “What a shame,” Miss Ashby said. “He was so lovely.”
So lovely. Such a nice young man. So kind. A good lad.Every person she’d spoken with had had nothing but praise for him.
“You must be sad to see him go. The two of you seemed so close.” That was the other comment she’d heard over and over, always accompanied by a speculative stare or, as in this case, a pitiful one.
“I shall miss him, as all others do. Excuse me.” She truly didn’t need to be discussing John tonight. Not when her heart felt so raw. Not with his departure imminent. He would leave on the morning’s tide, and it was unlikely he’d return. She had seen the last she was ever going to see of him.
She looked up at the ceiling and fanned herself to keep the tears from falling. Thank goodness it was such a crush. Anyone looking in her direction would simply think the heat had gotten to her.
“I need a minute,” she muttered. She wove through the crowd, trying her best to avoid her friends who were all dying to know where she’d been the past week.
The retiring room was almost empty. Only a pair of servants were in the corner, whispering. Charlotte stood in front of the mirror, trying to give life to her curls, which looked as flat as she felt.
She should be elated. This was her favorite place to be, her favorite thing to do. She should be buzzing with energy. Yet, all she wanted to do was go home and go to bed. She looked over at the grandfather clock. Midnight. She only had to fake it for a few more hours.
The door opened, and she shifted her gaze.Luella.
She couldn’t deal with her rival right now. Charlotte had never felt so weak, so vulnerable. It would take the barest insult to bring her undone.
She brushed down her skirts and turned, hastening to the door. “Excuse me,” she murmured to Luella as she passed.
Luella caught her arm, bringing her to a halt before she was even to the door. “A moment, Lady Charlotte.”
Charlotte plastered on a brittle smile, conscious of how easy it would be to crack, and then faced the woman who loved to make her life difficult. “What can I do for you?”
Luella let go of Charlotte’s arm, looked pointedly at the servants who were eyeing them with interest, and gestured to the window in the opposite corner.
Charlotte sighed. “Very well.” Once they’d reached privacy, she crossed her arms and waited for an explanation.
“I hate that I have to go to you for this,” Luella said.
“Good. What is it?”
Luella huffed and stared out the window as though she were reconsidering the entire conversation.
“What do you know of Lord Harrow’s return? TherealLord Harrow, that is.”
Of course this was what Luella wanted to talk of. Anything else would have been too easy. “He returned a week ago. It was unexpected.”
Luella narrowed her eyes. “You know more than that, given your relationship with the false Lord Harrow. Tell me what you know.”
Charlotte bristled at the nerve of this woman to make such demands and with such condescension. “I know it was interestingly timed. There had been financial issues with the estate. He was away just long enough for Mr. Barnesworth to resolve them without marrying you.” She knew in her heart that it had been Walter’s plan—to wait for John to marry Luella and save the estates, and then come back and enjoy the spoils. Wretched, wretched man.
Luella flinched at Charlotte’s words. “So you don’t believe his story that he was suffering from amnesia?” There was a thread of nervousness in her tone, something Charlotte had never heard in her rival before.
She sighed. “Like I said, it was interestingly timed. But you should be glad. After all, you will be the one who benefits from it. I hear congratulations are in order.” She couldn’t help the snarky, jealous sneer in her voice. Luella would be Lady Harrow. She would live in the house John saved, spending John’s money, and all the trials and challenges Charlotte and John had faced would be meaningless.
Luella plastered on a smile that looked suspiciously false. “Yes. It is a love match, you know. He says that the first memory that returned was of me. That it was the thought of me that saved him and brought him back to England.” Luella said it with her usual superciliousness, but, for the first time, Charlotte thought she heard something beneath the condescension—a nervousness. A vulnerability.
The letters.Luella had given her heart and her virginity to a man, and he’d not only betrayed her, he’d used it to blackmail her father. She’d had her heart broken, and her trust destroyed. She’d been made a laughingstock among men and she probably knew it. Now she loved Walter, and he was lying to her.
Luella was an awful, cruel, arrogant witch whom Charlotte couldn’t stand—not for a minute—but now Charlotte felt something other than disdain. There was pity mixed in there.
“I don’t like you,” Charlotte blurted out.
Luella sneered. “I don’t like you either.”
