The moon moved from behind a cloud at that moment, and there, not twenty paces away, under an enormous tree with wide-reaching branches, a flutter of violet silk caught the light.
Eleanor tried to school the sudden knowledge from her expression, but Camden West was cleverer than she’d hoped, damn him, for he turned at once to follow her gaze. The silk skirts fluttered obligingly for him, billowing in the breeze.
“Ah. I believe we’ve found the sinners.”
Eleanor didn’t answer, but gathered her skirts in her hands, and without another word shot past him at a run. If she could reach Charlotte before he did, she had a chance to at least minimize the damage. She caught a glimpse of his dumbfounded expression as she scurried past, aware his slack-jawed astonishment was the only pleasure she’d get from this evening.
Her delight was short-lived. He didn’t chase after her, but he didn’t need to, for he easily matched her wild sprint with his long-legged strides. By the time she reached the tree he was right behind her, and he didn’t even have the courtesy to be winded.
“Charlotte?” Eleanor scooted under the branches and dodged around the thick trunk, elbows out and skirts held wide, doing everything she could to block Camden West’s view. “It’s no use pretending you aren’t there, Charlotte. I saw your gown. Come out at once, or—Charlotte!”
Eleanor clutched the neck of her gown in nerveless fingers, all the blood rushing from her head at once. She swayed back against Camden West, who pressed his palm into her lower back to steady her, a gesture that would have infuriated her under any other circumstances.
As it was, she forgot all about Camden West. She forgot Lord Tidmarsh, the garden, and the Foster’s ball entirely.Dear God. She’d reconciled herself to a shock, butthis?This went well beyond a stolen kiss or two.
Hairpins, hooks, buttons, and, Eleanor suspected, closing her eyes in despair, the tapes on Charlotte’s drawers had all fallen victim to Julian West’s seeking fingers. Her sister’s elegant chignon lay in ruins across her bare shoulders, and her bodice sagged around her waist and neck, leaving plenty of room for his hand to slip into her chemise to caress her breast. He clutched a fistful of violet silk in his other hand, raising Charlotte’s skirts so high Eleanor caught a glimpse of her sister’s lace-trimmed garters.
And Charlotte . . .
As much as Eleanor wanted to blame this entire episode on Julian West, she couldn’t deny her innocent sister was . . . well, rather an enthusiastic participant in her own disgrace. She was on her tiptoes, her fingers tugging at his hair to bring his mouth closer to hers, and unless Julian West had torn a button off his own waistcoat . . .
“Charlotte! Step away from him at once!”
But neither Charlotte nor her seducer appeared to hear her, or to notice they had an audience, for they kept on with their debauchery as if Eleanor and Camden West were invisible. Eleanor struggled to pull some air into her lungs so she could shriek, but despite her gasps, they refused to fill, and she could do nothing but stand, horrified, as that dreadful rake debauched her younger sister.
Eleanor was about to leap upon Julian West and wrestle him to the ground when she heard a sound behind her—a discreet cough, or a muffled laugh? She clenched her fists until she drew a drop of blood from her palm. Did Camden West think a quiet cough enough to pry his cousin from her sister, then? He certainly didn’t look as if he were about to step forward and separate them.
Or perhaps he found the whole thing amusing?
Rage took hold of Eleanor then, and she scrambled forward and grabbed her sister around the waist. She hadn’t any idea where she got the strength, but she succeeded in dragging Charlotte backward, out of Julian West’s embrace, and then she threw herself in front of her sister so she stood between them.
Just let Julian West try to touchherbreast, or pull upherskirts. He’d come away with fewer fingers, the rogue.
“Not. One. Step.” She spat the words and held a hand out in front of her, glaring at him.
Camden West moved to his cousin’s side and waved a careless hand in Charlotte’s direction. “I can assure you my cousin won’t stir from this spot. See to your sister, Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor stared at him.Bored. Camden West sounded bored, as if his cousin’s ruination of an innocent young woman was all part of a pleasant evening’s entertainment. Her fingers curled into claws.Villain. Oh, how she’d love to scratch his eyes from his face.
But she couldn’t. Not only couldn’t she do him a physical injury, she’d also have to find a way to swallow her rage and treat both men with some modicum of civility, for Charlotte’s reputation was theirs to ruin, should they choose to do so. Bitterness flooded the back of her throat, choking her. She wanted to rage at the unfairness of it, and yet it was no use. There was only one thing she could do.
See to her sister, just as Camden West told her to.
She turned on Charlotte then, her earlier anger swelling in her breast. Eleanor opened her mouth to deliver the furious scold Charlotte deserved, but as soon as she saw her sister’s face, she closed it.
Charlotte stood unmoving and silent, her face drained of blood.
Eleanor instinctively reached for her hand. “Charlotte? My dear . . .”
Charlotte’s hand was ice cold, trembling. A wave of dread swept over Eleanor. She’d expected defiance, or perhaps careless dismissal, not this look of lost, numb shock.
She took Charlotte by the shoulders and turned her around. “Here now, it’s all right. I’ll just button you up, shall I? I’m afraid your pins are gone for good, but I can secure your hair with a few of my own.”
Eleanor patted and fussed and soothed until she’d pulled Charlotte together as best she could. By the time she finished Charlotte had regained some of her color, but she looked to be on the verge of tears. “Eleanor, I. . . I beg your pardon. I never meant . . . I . . . I didn’t think it would go so far—”
“Hush.” Eleanor laid a hand against Charlotte’s cheek. “Never mind. We’ll talk about it later.”
There was no way they could reenter the ballroom. Charlotte was decently covered, but by no means presentable, and she’d been gone for far too long. Her absence would have been noticed by now. No doubt the whispers had already started.
