Hamish groaned. “No more lists, I beg you. We barely escaped a prison sentence with the last one.”
Charlotte sniffed. “I didn’t care for Egypt much, anyway.”
“I was referring to Prussia.”
She startled and frowned. “What laws did we break in Prussia?”
“Youadmonished the emperor for not having better tact in his public statements.” The look he gave her was full of irony.
“It’s a criminal offense to state the truth?” Charlotte sighed dramatically. “You men are such delicate creatures.”
“You said itto his face.”
Percy admired how the Duchess of Camine didn’t so much as blush at the accusation. How he wished he’d been there to watch her insult foreign royalty. He’d always known Lady Charlotte would do great things.
“Never mind me.” Charlotte turned her sights on Percy. “Who’s blackmailing you and how can I make their acquaintance?”
Percy missed his plant. “I came of my own free will,” he said, and for extra effect, “I couldn’t go a day longer without seeing you, my dear.”
Charlotte ignored him and turned to her husband. “Did you force him?”
Hamish raised his hands in innocence.
Her gaze narrowed. “Is there a body cooling in one of the linen closets somewhere? No, don’t tell me. I want to look surprised when the maids start screaming.”
Percy scowled. Who needed enemies when one had friends? He straightened his cuffs again. “I’m leaving.”
This was a waste of an evening. He could be at home, haunting that drafty old mansion, or learning Mr. Brinkley’s new names for thesixparks on his property. Or anything else remotely less mind-numbing than standing here like an exotic animal on display.
“No time for that now,” Charlotte said, glancing at a man over Percy’s shoulder. “Mr. Richmund!”
A young man in a frightful, rose-patterned vest turned and made his excuses to his current party and made his way over, the frown between his brows not boding well.
Hamish offered the man a quick nod, whispering something in Charlotte’s ear that sounded suspiciously like, “Do be kind.”
Charlotte offered her hand to the new arrival and said, “Mr. Richmund, what a coincidence seeing you again.”
Confusion flashed in the man’s eyes, but he took her hand and bowed over it. When he stood, his gaze studied her face and seemed to find something familiar. “Lady Charlotte?” His eyes widened. “Has anyone ever told you you share a remarkable resemblance with your brother?”
Charlotte’s smile, Percy knew, was one to fear.
“Never,” she said. “What an odd thing to say. I suppose eyesight is the first to go after so many years of drinking. And it’sYour Gracenow. Do keep up.”
At Mr. Richmund’s baffled expression, Hamish steered his duchess towards the assembly floor, his face carefully blank, his eyes dancing.
“Come, wife. The next set is a waltz,” he said, then he added quieter so only the two of them—and Percy—could hear, “When did you start lying?”
Charlotte’s response was barely audible over the musician’s tuning. “Lying? Dear me, was it not you who suggested I learn to pander to the masses?”
“God help us all.”
Percy watched his friendly buoys bob away through the crowd, leaving him the easy decision to wade through theun-pleasantries of chitchat with the fashion criminal beside him or drown in the scorn of improper societal etiquette.
Percy turned his back on Mr. Richmund, ready to be dragged into the inky depths, when a woman in green pulled his head firmly out of the water.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Danny said.
The way the candlelight made her skin glow, she looked heavenly, halo encircled. Her gown was of the same figure-hugging design as the navy one from the Leishires’ ball, but thistime the deep, evergreen color brought out the red undertones in her hair.
