There were far prettier women staying in the house. Miss Fraser alone eclipsed nearly everyone present. No—it was not admiration. It was simply because she was isolated and vulnerable, and men like Wolverton recognised precisely that.
‘What will we do now?’ Sarah asked anxiously. ‘We are getting nowhere with this investigation.’
Charlotte bit her lower lip. ‘I’ll think of something. For now, get some rest.’
Chapter 20
The following evening, taking Sarah’s warnings to heart, Charlotte dressed in one of her older gowns—a sombre black silk that concealed rather than flattered. After enduring another tedious evening of drawing-room embroidery and lifeless conversation, she found herself once again trapped by the spinsters in yet another transparent attempt at matchmaking.
This time, the unfortunate victim was Mr Smythe. The widower possessed the extraordinary ability to make time itself appear motionless. At the first opportunity, she made her escape and fled upstairs earlier than usual.
Lord Stanley’s warning lingered unpleasantly in her mind as she walked the corridors alone.
Be careful.
Especially with the card party in full swing.
Charlotte found herself turning corners cautiously now, listening intently for approaching footsteps or raised voices. The distant roar of laughter and jeering from the card room echoed faintly through the mansion.
As she peeped around a corner, she saw the card-room door open.
A man emerged and strode towards the study.
Wolverton.
Her stomach tightened instantly.
Worried he might spot her, Charlotte darted behind a suit of armour positioned in the nearby alcove. Thankfully, her black gown blended neatly with the shadows.
A moment later, the card-room door opened again.
Another set of footsteps followed.
‘Well? Come along, Wolverton,’ came Lord Stanley’s voice.
Charlotte froze.
The two men passed directly before her hiding place. The corridor was dim enough that neither noticed her presence.
Then, apparently satisfied they were alone, they slowed.
Charlotte bit her lip hard.
Should she reveal herself?
Curiosity triumphed.
Holding her breath, she strained to hear.
Their voices were low, but distinct enough.
‘So,’ Wolverton murmured, ‘what exactly did you have in mind, Stanley?’
‘I want in.’ Lord Stanley’s reply was immediate. ‘No half-measures. Tell the Grand Fellows I wish to join.’
Charlotte suppressed a gasp.
‘I am not certain it is quite so simple, my friend,’ Wolverton replied. ‘They are a paranoid lot.’
