Morgan seemed to notice her expression immediately. “Forgive me. That sounded harsher than intended.”
“It is none of my concern regardless,” Charlotte replied quickly.
“Mm.” Morgan’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “And yet you looked concerned.”
Charlotte ignored that completely. “You are very impertinent, my lord.”
“And you are very beautiful when annoyed.”
She rolled her eyes, though warmth crept into her cheeks anyway. “Do all noblemen speak in rehearsed compliments?”
“Only the desperate ones.” Morgan leaned slightly closer. “Mine are entirely sincere.”
Charlotte found herself laughing again despite every effort not to. He was dangerously charming in a far lighter manner than Victor. Where Victor’s charm felt sharp and heated, Morgan’s was playful and effortless, like sunshine compared to flame.
Still, something about him reminded her too much of Victor.
“You and the duke are very alike,” she remarked carefully.
Morgan looked delighted. “That is the first time anyone has ever insulted me so elegantly.”
“I did not mean it as an insult,” she laughed.
“Then I am wounded. Mulford certainly would.”
Charlotte smiled faintly before her gaze wandered instinctively across the ballroom. Her breath caught slightly when she spotted Victor standing near the edge of the dance floor, speaking with Lord Dawson. Except Victor was not truly paying attention to the conversation at all.
He is watching us.
Even from across the crowded ballroom, Charlotte could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed upon her and Morgan together. His expression was calm enough for society, but there was a darkness beneath it now that made her stomach tighten strangely.
Morgan noticed immediately. “Oh dear,” he murmured with obvious delight.
Charlotte looked back at him sharply. “What?”
“I believe my friend may wish to murder me.”
Charlotte stubbornly said, “His Grace does not care whom I dance with.”
Morgan’s grin turned positively wicked. “Miss Brown, if you keep saying things like that, I may start feeling sorry for him.”
Before Charlotte could demand what he meant, the dance carried them apart briefly with the movement of the figures. When Morgan returned to her moments later, he bowed slightly closer than propriety demanded.
“For what it is worth,” he said quietly, “I think you are precisely the sort of trouble Victor deserves.”
Charlotte’s heart stumbled unexpectedly.
Then she immediately scolded herself for allowing the words to affect her at all.
* * *
Morgan, I will throttle you before the night is done.
Victor watched through narrowed eyes as across the dance floor, Charlotte moved gracefully through the steps of a waltz in the arms of none other than Morgan Harding.
Morgan leaned close to Charlotte with that easy devil-may-care grin women adored, and Charlotte laughed softly at something he said. Candlelight gleamed across her burgundy gown whileher cheeks flushed pink beneath Morgan’s attention. Victor’s jaw clenched so tightly it almost hurt.
Of course, it would be Morgan.
