He deftly redirected the conversation elsewhere, and Charlotte found no further opportunity to question him.
What followed filled her with considerably greater horror.
Near the end of the third course, Wolverton placed a hand upon her knee.
Charlotte felt herself go rigid.
He gave her a slow, suggestive smile and leaned close enough for his breath to brush her ear.
‘It seems Stanley has grown tired of you and is now pursuing Miss Pearson. You have only to hint, and I shall gladly take you under my protection.’
Charlotte edged away. ‘I assure you, my lord, he would be most displeased with your behaviour tonight.’
He eventually removed his hand, but the encounter left her deeply alarmed.
From across the table, Lady Susan’s expression had transformed from displeasure into something positively thunderous. When their eyes met, Charlotte winced inwardly.
Oh dear.
After dinner, the guests swept into the drawing room, where Mrs Wilberforce arranged a musical evening, calling upon the young debutantes one by one to display their accomplishments.
The young Payne boy bent to whisper sweet nothings into Miss Oswald’s ear, while Lady Bainbridge held court amongst a cluster of debutantes and attentive gentlemen.
Wolverton, it seemed, had tired of Charlotte’s questions—and of her reluctance—and drifted away to join Boulton and several others. Charlotte instinctively retreated to a side table tucked discreetly against the wall and seated herself between Miss Hill and Miss Underwood.
Drat.
She had squandered her opportunity. Perhaps, given time, another would present itself.
Meanwhile, as the evening wore on, only one thing soured her mood further. Lord Stanley appeared entirely smitten with Miss Pearson, laughing and smiling with almost boyish charm.
He seems more intent upon finding a wife than exposing the Odd Fellows.
Charlotte huffed inwardly.
Determined to ignore Lord Stanley’s flirtations, she turned her attention instead towards Mr Payne—Lord Boulton’s business associate—who sat beside the Captain discoursing upon warehouses, shipping ventures, and fast-boats.
After what she deemed a suitable interval, Charlotte rose and made her way towards the tea table under the pretence of requiring a second cup—though she was certain it would keepher awake half the night. In truth, she hoped to draw Lord Wolverton into another conversation.
He stood only a few steps away, half concealed within a nearby alcove.
Expecting nothing more than the usual tedious drawing-room chatter, Charlotte was startled to hear Wolverton speaking in a low, agitated voice.
‘I cannot keep doing this,’ he muttered tensely. ‘You are asking too much.’
‘Shh—remember where you are,’ hissed another voice. ‘We shall meet tomorrow in the library after dinner. Ten o’clock. Then we may speak properly.’
Charlotte craned her neck, but from her angle she could see nothing beyond shifting shadows cast against the pillar.
‘Are you looking for something, Miss Lucas?’
She nearly leapt out of her skin. Her teacup rattled against its saucer as she turned to find Lord Stanley standing far too close beside her. She caught the faint scent of his cologne at once.
Abominable man.Why did he insist upon sneaking up on her like this?
She forced her voice steady. ‘My lord. I was merely... admiring the pillars.’
A knowing smile tugged at his lips. ‘Naturally. No doubt planning your next lecture upon classical architecture for Tom.’
