Damn it.Bloody Julian West.Had he kept any of the details from last night to himself? “We all agreed to the wager. Lord Devon is no guiltier than any of us.”
“Perhaps not, but then he doesn’t have as much to lose, does he?”
An incredulous laugh rose in Charlotte’s throat. Did Ellie truly believe she had anything left to lose? “I promise you I’ll be as circumspect in my choice of company as I possibly can be.”
Ellie wasn’t fooled by her vague promise. She made her way across the room and sank wearily down on the bed, her face pale and set.
Charlotte couldn’t look at her sister’s pinched face, not if she wanted to keep her composure, so she turned her back on Ellie and retreated to the window. Amelia was on the lawn below playing at bowls, the sun’s rays sifting through her fair hair. She rolled the ball, then jumped in the air with an excited shout as it struck the jack.
A smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips. Such a pure, simple, childlike joy. How would she ever do without Amelia until next season? She turned back to Ellie. “Do you suppose Amelia could spend the afternoon with me?”
Ellie opened her eyes, then closed them again. “She was out all morning riding with Julian, and she hasn’t finished her lessons—”
“Just a few hours, Eleanor? I’ll have her back right after tea.”
Ellie struggled up onto her elbows with an exhausted sigh. “Oh, very well. I suppose she can have a holiday today. She’s too excited about the baby to concentrate, in any case. But do make sure she practices her pianoforte. She doesn’t do nearly as well with her music master as she does with you.”
“Yes, yes. I will.” Charlotte flew toward the door, her heart already lighter.
“See she has a proper tea, as well!” Ellie’s voice followed Charlotte into the hallway. “Not just lemon ices, like last time!”
“Of course not!” Charlotte called back as she bounded down the stairs, her skirts billowing out in a blue cloud behind her. Phipps opened the door and she sailed outside, rounded the corner of the house, and emerged at the edge of the lawn just in time to see Amelia toss the bowl with such enthusiasm it rolled past the others, off the edge of the lawn, and into the rose garden.
“Awful throw!” Charlotte called.
Amelia gave her a sunny smile, and waved from across the lawn. “Charlotte! Shall we have a game?”
Oh, why not?She hadn’t played bowls in years. “Yes, one game, and then I’ll steal you away for the rest of afternoon.”
“Truly?” Amelia clapped her hands together with delight. “Will you take me to Gunter’s for an ice?”
“Of course. As many as you want. Whatever you like.”
“Hurrah!” Amelia darted across the lawn toward Charlotte, a wide grin on her face.
“After you’ve practiced your pianoforte, that is.”
Amelia’s grin faded a little at that. “Oh, all right. I’d much rather practice with you than that dusty old music master, anyway.”
“Only because I let you play bawdy Irish songs. Go and fetch the other bowls and I’ll find the one in the rose garden.”
“All right.” Amelia darted back across the lawn. “You’ll lose, you know. I’m very good at bowls!”
The roses were in full bloom, the leaves clustered thickly on the canes. Charlotte strolled down row after row looking for Amelia’s ball, but the dratted thing seemed to have disappeared. She was about to give up and leave it when she caught sight of it peeking out from under a particularly thorny yellow rose. “Blast it,” she muttered, dropping down onto her knees. She stuck her hand under the rose, careful not to prick her fingers, and reached around until she felt the smooth surface of the ball against her palm. “Come on out, you devil.”
“Not quite the greeting I expected, my lady, but then you never were one to fulfill expectations.”
Charlotte froze, her hand still cupped around the ball, and turned her head to find a pair of black Hessians planted on the path next to her feet, their shine blinding in the afternoon sun. She didn’t rise, but let her gaze travel upward over long legs encased in tight, buff-colored breeches, narrow hips, a lean waist, and wide shoulders under a beautifully fitted dark blue coat.
Captain West, looking every inch the handsome, valiant hero London so admired, right down to the halo of blurred sunlight framing his dark hair. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.Drat the man.Why did he have to be so devastating?
“Don’t rise on my account, my lady.” He tapped the tip of his riding crop rhythmically against his boot. “I quite like you where you are.”
Charlotte ignored this and rose slowly to her feet, Amelia’s ball cradled in her palm. “So much so you plan to keep me there. Isn’t that right, Captain West?”
“Oh, I don’t think you need me for that. You’re doing an admirable job of it on your own. I did, after all, come across you in a whorehouse last night.”
Charlotte pressed her fingers into the smooth, hard surface of the ball. “That’s not quite true, Captain.”
