With cold, calculating eyes, he assessed her face with unnerving precision, as though weighing every possible motive behind the request.
Then his expression hardened.
‘Miss Lucas,’ he said quietly, ‘merely because I have tolerated—and occasionally laughed at—a few of your antics does not entitle you to liberties of this nature.’
Charlotte felt herself go still.
‘I am not so naïve as to be lured into a compromising situation by you—or anyone. I will not meet you privately.’ Hisvoice remained low, though no less cutting for it. ‘Whatever you have to say may be said here, in front of everyone. If you have further grievances, you may address them to Mrs Wilberforce. I cannot reasonably be expected to involve myself in every domestic inconvenience within this house.’
The words stung like icy water. Charlotte recoiled at once, unable to summon a reply.
For the remainder of the evening she could neither properly speak nor bring herself to meet his gaze. How could he be so cold, so unyielding, when all she had done was try to warn him? Her request had been awkward, certainly, but born entirely from fear for his safety.
By the end of the evening, Charlotte was as much incensed as she was apprehensive.
Very well, then.
Perhaps she ought to concern herself with preserving her own life rather than his.
Wolverton’s gaze found her repeatedly throughout the evening—lingering, suggestive, and wholly unwelcome. Even across the room, it unsettled her. She took care to remain as far from him as possible in the intimate confines of the drawing room and felt immense relief when, at last, the gentlemen withdrew to the card room.
She noticed, however, the Captain remained behind with the ladies.
‘Are card games not to your taste, Captain?’ she asked as he took a seat near the fireplace beside her.
He smiled warmly. ‘Ah, no, that sport is ill-suited to a man whose pockets are currently quite empty.’ He laughed lightly at himself. ‘Shooting, however—that is a sport I understand perfectly well.’
‘At a house party, surely they do not play such very high stakes?’
‘Ordinarily, no. But Lord Stanley is a veritable gambler.’ The Captain shook his head with faint disbelief. ‘Why, the other day at the gentlemen’s club he lost a fortune. I believe he even wagered—and lost—his prized stallion to Wolverton. I was there and tried to curb his streak, but he would not listen to reason.’
Charlotte stared at him. ‘I did not imagine him capable of behaving so irresponsibly.’
She had witnessed such madness before. Anne’s father had ruined himself entirely at the gaming tables.
The Captain gave a slight shrug. ‘When sober, I believe him to be one of the most level-headed men alive, but after several drinks, I’m afraid the inhibition simply disappears.’
Charlotte frowned. ‘I have not noticed him drinking to excess...’
Had she missed it? He seemed perfectly lucid since she moved into the mansion. But then she had not known him for long.
‘And what of Lord Wolverton?’ she asked carefully. ‘I noticed you were not impressed by his humour earlier.’
The Captain raised a brow, faintly surprised by her observation.
A curious smile touched his mouth. ‘I cannot say I am keen on the fellow. He and Lord Stanley share a fondness for wagers and reckless amusements. Wolverton, I suspect, would cheerfully gamble the coat from a man’s back if given the opportunity.’
Then his expression darkened. ‘My father gambled. I detest it.’
Nothing more needed to be said.
Charlotte recognised the pain behind the words at once.
What troubled her most was not the Captain’s confession, but the revelation concerning Lord Stanley himself. Gamblingand drink were hardly uncommon vices amongst the ton, yet she found herself irrationally disappointed all the same.
As the evening drew to a close and most of the ladies retired upstairs, Charlotte finally rose as well and quietly took her leave of the remaining spinsters.
Making her way towards the grand staircase, she heard a raging row emanating from the study.
