Julian turned his attention back to the widows just in time to see the little blonde aim her opera glasses in his direction. She stared for a moment, lowered the glasses, and stared some more, then quickly brought them back up to her eyes. “And the others?”
“The redhead is Lady Elizabeth Smythe—no one is quite sure what happened to her husband. The little one with the opera glasses is the Comtesse de Lisle. The Comte lost his head to Madame Guillotine, and rumor has it she narrowly escaped the same fate. They say she fled to London with a fortune in jewels secreted away in her bodice.”
Robyn snorted. “She might be able to squeeze a diamond ring or two in there, but there’s no room for an entire fortune in that bodice.”
“No talk of bodices if you please, Mr. Sutherland. Iris!” Lady Chase brought her fan down on her charge’s wrist. “Stop gaping at their box, you silly child. That goes for you as well, Violet.”
Stop gaping. Julian should heed Lady Chase’s warning too, but he found his attention drawn toward the forbidden box, and short of hurling himself off the edge of the balcony, nothing could distract him from the little drama unfolding there.
The Comtesse passed her opera glasses to Lady Tallant, who took a long look through them, and then passed them to Lady Smythe. She peered into them, lowered them with a nod, then turned to Charlotte, tilted her head in his direction, and offered her the glasses. Charlotte declined.
They recognized him, of course, as—what had the Comtesse called him? Oh, yes. The devil who’d locked Charlotte in a private bedchamber in a whorehouse, gagged her, and tied her to the bed. Perhaps he should have done just that—tied her and left her there and gone off to enjoy the attentions of that blonde-haired doxy who’d looked so promising. Perhaps it lacked finesse, but it was one way to solve the problem Cam had dumped in his lap.
Come to think on it, it would have solved the other problem in his lap, as well. Lady Hadley and his erection, vanquished in a single move. But as it was…
As it was, his breeches were too tight.
He aimed a scowl in Charlotte’s direction and shifted in his seat. Lady Chase was right. The purple gownwastoo revealing. She was a widow, for God’s sake, and that was quite a generous display of enticing, creamy flesh—
“How long will you stay in London, Captain?”
Julian turned in his seat to find the three pairs of blue eyes still gazing worshipfully at him. “Not long, I’m afraid, Miss Somerset. A month at the most.”
“You don’t plan to settle here, then? All of London is eager to claim you as our own.”
“I’m not as eager to claim London, however, so—” Julian fell abruptly silent as Miss Somerset’s plump lips turned down in a perfect pout. The chit looked as if she were about to burst into tears.
How interesting.
If a few careless words could produce such a pretty pout, could a few more earn him a smile? “That is, I don’t recall meeting such lovely young ladies the last time I was in London.” He bestowed his most dazzling smile on her. “Perhaps I’ll let her claim me, after all.”
Blush now, and smile shyly.
It was as if he’d waved a magic wand over her. Her lips curved upwards and her cheeks flooded with pink. “Oh, how charming you are, Captain West.”
Charming?She wouldn’t think so if she knew what he hid under his smile, but then he’d been charming enough at one time, hadn’t he? How kind of Iris Somerset to remind him that while charm might not signify on a battlefield, it was a formidable weapon in London.
Among theton, charm was everything. More to the point, it was easy to fake. As long as his smile was engaging, no one would care much what lurked beneath it.
Of course.How had he not seen it before? A smile, a few compliments, and the debutantes were sighing. They were giggling and blushing. Their girlish bosoms were heaving, and their eyelashes fluttering. If he had to be London’s bloody conquering hero, why not to turn it to his advantage? If he’d learned anything in battle, it was to use every weapon he had to gain the victory, and at the moment his supposed heroism was a weapon.
After all, every lady adored a charming hero.
Even a wicked widow.
He turned the full force of his gaze on Iris Somerset. “How easy it is to be charming, Miss Somerset, when one is in such charming company.”
Another blush. “Well, I—”
Rap. Lady Chase smacked Iris sharply on the wrist with her fan. “That will do, Iris.” She fixed Julian with a freezing glare and pointed. “The stage is that way, Captain West.”
Julian stifled a grin and turned around obediently.
It was so simple. So perfect.
But the widows were hardly innocent, blushing virgins like Iris Somerset. Their jaded hearts wouldn’t be touched by a few shallow compliments. Charm might get him their attention, but the widows were too cynical to succumb to tales of heroism and a practiced smile.
No. They worshipped at a different altar entirely.
