From fear.Fear they’d all see the scars and the ugliness hidden under the Marchioness of Hadley’s glittering mask. Fear they’d see her for who she truly was—a woman who’s coldness had driven her husband to his death.
The nightmare, where she had no place left to hide, no place left to go became frighteningly real today. But she couldn’t hide forever. There weren’t enough whorehouses in all of London to hide her from herself.
And Julian…
I saw your face when they all turned their backs on you. Damn it, I saw you.
How had he known? How could he have found her shivering with fear under her mask when she wanted so desperately to hide, even from herself?
He’d been so tender with her today, so passionate. Even now her heart ached to think of how he’d clasped her face in his hands, his eyes dark and soft, just as she remembered them. With one touch he’d made her believe hiding might be, after all, so much harder than simply being found.
She’d wanted to give him everything then, but when she’d taken his hand and brought it to her lips… He’d looked so strange. He’d drawn away from her, and she didn’t know why, or how to close the distance between them. Even now she couldn’t puzzle out what had happened in that moment.
Only Julian knew.
But as she sat in the quiet garden with the sun warm on her face, growing drunk and sleepy on the heavy, sweet scent of roses, the truth drifted over her, no less certain for all that it came softly, as if on the wings of the butterflies sipping nectar from the blooming carpet of sweet alyssum at her feet.
It didn’t matter why.
It mattered only that he’d saved her today. Not just from Miss Fowler and Miss Wolverton and that passel of spiteful chits determined to deal her a set down, but from someone far more insidious, far more dangerous—someone she’d despaired of ever escaping.
Herself.
For months Ellie and Cam had tried to help her. Her mother, her brothers, Lily, and Delia—they’d all begged her to come to Bellwood, promised to look after her, to take care of her, but it was only Julian who’dseenher, into her and through her. It was Julian who’d torn the mask free at last. Julian, the only man who’d ever held her heart in his hands.
Her breath caught on a sob too deep to make a sound.
His hands, his mouth on her skin, his whispered pleas to look at him, to feel him, to never hide again—he’d worked the truth out of her with his touch, and it would no more go back inside her than a bird will return to the solitary prison of its cage once it’s spread its wings in the open sky. She couldn’t pretend anymore.
Tonight she’d find Julian and tell him she would accompany her family to Bellwood tomorrow, even as her heart throbbed with dread at the idea of giving up London’s vices and distractions. Bellwood was so quiet and still, just like Hadley House.
She drew a deep breath and forced her skipping heart to calm. She’d already sent a note to Ellie to expect her tomorrow morning, and Sarah was in Grosvenor Square at this moment, packing her things. Shewouldgo. She wouldn’t disappoint her sister now, and God knew it was time—
“Oh, dear.” Violet drew close to mutter in Charlotte’s ear. “I’m afraid your demonic lord is headed this way, Charlotte.”
“Is he?” Iris rose to her tiptoes to see over the bobbing heads of the crowd. “Yes, just there! My goodness. He’s not a gentleman one overlooks in a crowd, is he?”
“He’s not a gentleman at all.” Violet looked from Devon to Charlotte and bit her lip. “And you needn’t sound so pleased to see him coming, Iris. Grandmamma is going to have an apoplexy. You’d better go and meet him, Charlotte, before you’re forced to introduce him to us.”
“Yes, perhaps that would be best.” Charlotte gathered her skirts in her hand, but before she could stir a step, Iris’s fingers clamped down on her arm like a vise.
“Nonsense, Violet. How rude you are. He can’t be as wicked as everyone says he is.” Iris raised an eyebrow at Charlotte. “Can he?”
Violet snorted. “I think you hope he’s every bit as wicked as they say, and worse too.”
Charlotte studied Iris’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes and hid a smile. More than one innocent debutante had fallen victim to the heady combination of Devon’s angelic looks and sinful reputation. “I don’t believe a word of the gossip about him, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s never been anything but kind to me.”
Iris couldn’t quite suppress a yearning sigh as they watched Devon approach, and Charlotte could hardly blame her. His severe black evening coat complimented his golden good looks, and his tight black breeches emphasized his long, muscular legs. He caught sight of Charlotte’s gaze on him and a surprisingly boyish, lopsided smile lit his face.
This time even Violet sighed. “Oh, my.”
Charlotte smiled back at him, but her heart gave a sharp, regretful tug in her chest. He’d been a true friend to her, and now she’d repay his loyalty by hurting him.
Violet and Iris stared at him with wide eyes, and Lady Chase began to sputter with rage as soon as she caught sight of him, but Devon didn’t notice. He joined them and took Charlotte’s hands in his. “Lady Hadley. I’ve found you at last. As always, you look lovely this evening.”
“Lady Hadley!” Lady Chase hissed. “You gave me your word!”
Charlotte gave her an apologetic grimace. She could hardly refuse to introduce Devonnow. “Yes, ah, that is—Lady Chase, may I present Lord Devon?”
