Silence settled briefly over the table. Charlotte looked instinctively toward Victor only to discover him already watching her. Something shifted suddenly in the atmosphere between them.
The teasing faded. The laughter softened. And for one alarming moment Charlotte forgot entirely that this engagement was false.
Victor’s gaze held hers steadily across candlelight while something warm and dangerous curled low inside her chest. He looked almost startled himself, as though Elizabeth’s words had unsettled him too. Charlotte quickly lowered her eyes toward her untouched tart.
This is becoming far too real.
CHAPTER 15
The season has officially begun.
Mulford Manor bustled with unusual excitement as servants hurried through corridors carrying gloves, shawls, and while lamps glowed warmly against the evening dark. Victor stood near the front hall beside his grandmother, already dressed in immaculate black evening clothes, though his patience steadily wore thin with every passing minute.
Elizabeth tapped her fan against his arm. “Stop glowering.”
“I am not glowering, grandmother,” he said.
“You look as though you are preparing for war instead of a ball,” she teased him as she smoothed her gloves.
Victor adjusted his cuffs. “Society often feels remarkably similar.”
Elizabeth laughed softly just as footsteps descended the staircase. Victor looked up absently. Then immediately forgot how to breathe properly.
Charlotte stood midway down the stairs in the burgundy gown Elizabeth had selected at the modiste, and for one entirely disorienting moment Victor genuinely understood why men wrote foolish poetry. The rich colour clung elegantly to her curving figure while soft candlelight warmed her brown hair into deep chestnut silk.
She looks beautiful. No. Far worse than beautiful. Dangerous.
Victor stared openly enough that Charlotte slowed near the bottom step. “Your Grace?”
He realized belatedly that he had not spoken.
Elizabeth looked delighted. “Well?”
Victor cleared his throat lightly. “You look lovely tonight, Charlotte.”
A faint blush immediately touched her cheeks. That alone nearly undid him.
“Thank you, as do you both,” she replied softly.
Victor found himself absurdly pleased that his compliment affected her. He offered his arm before he could think better of it, and Charlotte accepted with careful grace. The warmth of her gloved hand against his sleeve distracted him far more than it ought.
This was becoming troublesome indeed.
The carriage ride to the Dawson estate passed in relative peace, thanks largely to Elizabeth enthusiastically discussing previous seasons while Charlotte smiled and listened attentively. Victor mostly remained quiet because every time he glanced toward Charlotte, the burgundy silk threatened his self-control all over again.
I ought to regret purchasing that gown. Instead, he wanted to burn every other dress she owned.
The Dawson estate blazed with candlelight by the time they arrived. Elegant carriages lined the sweeping drive while music drifted faintly from the brightly lit ballroom windows.
A footman opened the carriage door immediately. Victor stepped out first before turning to assist Elizabeth and Charlotte. Moments later, another familiar group approached across the entrance steps.
Harriet Brown positively glowed with excitement while Joan, Irene, and Penelope looked near breathless, taking in the grandeur surrounding them.
Charlotte’s entire face softened at once upon seeing her family. Victor felt something unpleasantly warm shift inside his chest.
“Your Grace,” Harriet greeted warmly with a curtsy. “You are too kind to us.”
Victor bowed politely. “Lady Linfield.”
