For a moment, she scarcely recognised herself.
She looked... beautiful. Almost dangerously so.
Suddenly, Tom burst into her new room. ‘Miss Lucas! Are you going to be my aunt and live with us forever?’
Charlotte’s heart twisted painfully. She smiled softly and ruffled his curls.
‘And how did you hear such a thing, little rascal?’
‘Uncle told me,’ he said proudly, throwing his arms around her neck. ‘He said you will live with us forever, and I may call you Aunt now.’
Her throat tightened. ‘Did he indeed?’
Tom would be heartbroken when the truth finally emerged.
Mrs Wilberforce entered shortly thereafter and stopped abruptly upon the threshold, her expression lighting with triumph.
‘My, my, Miss Lucas... you have been hiding your light under a bushel all this time.’
Charlotte coloured faintly beneath the praise.
‘No more of that now,’ Mrs Wilberforce continued firmly. ‘Come along—Henry is waiting below, and the guests are absolutely dying to offer their congratulations.’
‘Wait—how does everyone know?’
Mrs Wilberforce gave a light, musical laugh. ‘My dear, after the scene you and Henry created in the library last evening, the whole house party naturally knows.’
Before Charlotte could form a proper response, she was swept from the room and hurried downstairs.
The moment they entered the breakfast parlour, conversation faltered.
Lord Stanley rose at once from his seat. For the briefest instant he appeared entirely arrested by the sight of her, his usually composed expression giving way to unmistakable astonishment. He recovered himself almost immediately, however, and crossed the room with smooth deliberation.
Bowing low, he took her hand and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles.
A shiver passed through her at his touch, but she forced herself to remain composed.
‘You look beautiful,’ he whispered, so low that Charlotte was certain no one else overheard.
Which made no sense at all. Surely such compliments were meant for the audience they were pretending to convince.
Charlotte glanced at him sharply, certain he must be teasing her again. Yet there was no mockery in his expression. If anything, his gaze appeared far too intent as it lingered upon her face.
She drew in a breath as he all but devoured her with his eyes. That, she was quite certain, everyone noticed. A slow blush rose into her cheeks and spread down her neck. She willed herself not to react.
Really, the man was being outrageous. She knew perfectly well he was doing this to convince others of his devotion, but surely there were limits to such theatrics. She huffed softly and looked away.
Mrs Wilberforce beckoned her over warmly, whilst Lord Stanley immediately moved to flank her on the other side, offering what felt suspiciously like a shield against gossip and malicious scrutiny.
Charlotte fidgeted with her bracelet, painfully aware of how ill at ease she felt.
Then Lord Stanley turned to the room, where whispers and curious glances were already circling like vultures above carrion.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced, his voice clear and commanding, ‘allow me to present my fiancée, Miss Lucas.’
The room fell abruptly silent.
Charlotte instinctively sought out Mr Hamilton. He appeared sceptical, perhaps mildly perplexed, but utterly untroubled. As though he had not just murdered a man only hours earlier.
