She threw her arm over her eyes, but Julian leaned over her and moved it away. “No. Don’t hide from me. Not now.” His warm palm settled against her cheek, turned her face back to his. “What makes you hide?”
Because if you see me, you’ll know the truth about what I am.
She wanted to bury her face in his neck, in his chest, to avoid those dark, knowing eyes. “I can’t—I don’t have any choice.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “There’s always a choice, Charlotte.”
Perhaps there was. Perhaps, after all, it had always been that simple.
She drew his hand to her lips and pressed her open mouth to his palm.
He went still for a long time, but at last he straightened, smoothed the fabric of her skirts carefully back into place until not a glimpse of her skin was visible under the folds of mauve muslin, and moved away.
Charlotte dragged herself upright and leaned back against the carriage door. “Julian?”
He reached down and fastened his falls, then slid over to the other bench, but it wasn’t enough, the space he forced between them, because she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on hers, his fingers against her skin, inside her. She pressed the back of her hand hard against her lips, surprised to find she was shaking.
He sucked in a deep breath and met her gaze. “It’s been a long day.” He reached up and rapped his fist against the roof of the carriage. “It’s time I took you home.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Well, girls, I do hope you’re satisfied. Nothing else would do but Lady Elliott’s ball tonight, and now we’re obliged to stand elbow to elbow with every scoundrel in London.” Lady Chase’s irritated flush had turned her cheeks the same dull red as her turban. “I can’t think what’s come over Lady Elliott, assembling such a debauched company. Why, just look! Naught but rogues and demi-reps, as far as the eye can see. Thank goodness Hyacinth was too ill to attend.”
Charlotte followed Lady Chase’s outraged glare to a particularly noisy swarm of said rogues, who were strutting about with puffed chests for the amusement of three demi-reps who stood in the center of the fracas, yawning delicately into their white gloves. She grinned as Lady Annabel looked over the shoulder of a dandy in a canary-colored coat, caught her eye, and winked.
Those ladies weren’t demi-reps—that is, not strictly speaking. They were wicked widows.
Rap!Lady Chase’s fan came down on her wrist. “What do you mean by grinning at them like that, Lady Hadley? Why, you’ll encourage them to come speak to us!”
“Would that be so terrible?” Iris turned pleading eyes on Lady Chase. “They’re so elegant. May Charlotte not introduce us?”
“Certainly not! If I’d known Lady Elliott would invite such low company, I would never have permitted you to set foot through the door.” Lady Chase pointed one gnarled, shaking finger at the wicked widows. “Those three are bad enough, but wherever they go that Lord Demon follows.”
“Who’s Lord Demon?” Violet’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard of him. What an unfortunate name.”
“Ah, I believe you mean Lord Devon.” Charlotte smiled at Violet behind Lady Chase’s back. “Isn’t that right, my lady?”
Lady Chase pursed her lips. “Demon, Devon. What’s the difference? I won’t introduce the likes of him to my granddaughters any more than I’d let a fox into a henhouse filled to the rafters with remarkably foolish hens.”
“Oh, LordDevon! Of course.” Violet turned wide, innocent blue eyes on her elder sister. “Iris thinks he’s terribly handsome, don’t you, Iris?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Iris flapped her fan over suddenly pink cheeks. “I never said any such thing about Lord Demon—that is, Lord Devon.”
“Never mind that, girls,” Lady Chase snapped. “Now, Lady Hadley, I’ll have your word, if you please, that we won’t be overrun with demi-reps and demonic lords tonight.”
“Of course, my lady. You needn’t worry.”About the demi-reps, anyway. The widows would no doubt be more entertaining company than an irascible old lady and three chaste debutantes, but for the first time in months Charlotte wasn’t interested in a scandalous romp. She’d declined Annabel’s offer of a place in her carriage this evening and accepted a place with Lady Chase instead.
The demonic lord, however, was another matter. She must see Devon tonight—at once, before she changed her mind again.
Devon, then Julian.
A tiny bubble of emotion rose in her breast, buoyant, familiar even, though as yet still just an echo of another, sweeter emotion, one she’d believed gone forever.
She thought it must be…hope.
She hadn’t gone into the house after Julian dropped her at Grosvenor Square this afternoon. She’d slipped into the garden instead, anxious to avoid Sarah’s penetrating gaze until she could piece together some explanation for what had happened with Julian in that carriage.
Those chits, at Lady Chase’s picnic today… When they’d cut her, she’d been on the edge of collapse. Not from shame—thetonhad done their best to shame her since she arrived in London, but she wasn’t ashamed of doing what she needed to do to survive.
