To Love a Tormented Earl - Bridget Barton Page 0,90

formed unflatteringly in her cheeks.

‘We have not been introduced, sir,’ she snapped, and meant to cut him, he could see, as she began to turn away.

‘Nonsense, Charlotte. I am none other than your own cousin, Maximilian,’ he said loudly, and then offered her his hand. ‘Do say you will honour me with the next dance.’

Charlotte’s blue eyes were wide with surprise and her mouth opened and closed like a fish. After a most unmannerly pause, she said, ‘Very well.’

He pulled her to the floor, her reluctance evidenced in the way her body resisted his lead.

It was another allemande, requiring Max to pass Charlotte under his arm at intervals, but otherwise keeping them together for the most part. Just what he had hoped.

‘My fair cousin, how long has it been? Three years, surely,’ Max said, watching her face.

Charlotte’s blue evening dress matched her eyes, and her golden hair was woven into an elaborate style which was most ornate. She was pretty, he owned, although she was a pale porcelain doll compared to Miss Whitmore’s vibrancy.

‘Has it been so long?’ Charlotte replied. It was clear she was out of temper, and she cast glances at every opportunity toward Roberts, who watched from the wall.

‘Indeed it has. And how I pined for England and Ceastre, as you can imagine, I’m sure. Imagine my surprise to see the house so altered. Had you a hand in the redecoration?’

‘Mama often consulted me,’ she answered with a petulant expression. ‘We all thought you dead, you know.’

‘Such a strange misunderstanding,’ Max said with a smile. Then he coughed, letting go of her hand as if involuntarily. The pain it caused in his ribs was real enough. ‘I confess I was near death more often than I care to remember.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, it has been quite a difficult recovery,’ Max said, passing her under his arm again. They traded hands, turning to face away from each other and then back toward each other again.

‘You were convalescing, all this time?’ Charlotte inquired, showing more interest.

‘Indeed,’ Max said. ‘Many a night I feared I might not see the dawn. And I fear I am still weak. Even just last night I had another episode—but I mustn’t overtax you with such details.’

‘My dear cousin,’ Charlotte said, echoing the phrase he had used, ‘if you cannot confide in your own family, who can you confide in?’

‘You are too kind, my lady,’ Max said. ‘It has been so very hard, you know, being so far from everyone.’

‘No doubt.’

‘And my physician counselled me against this trip.’

Charlotte’s eyes were fixed on him now, devouring his visage. She could not fail to see the pallor he had so carefully applied to his skin—but would she believe it to be authentic?

He coughed again, stopping and bending forward as if gripped with illness. Yanking a handkerchief from his pocket, he pressed it to his mouth.

To his satisfaction, it came away bloodied.

Bloody sputum, indeed.

‘Merciful heavens!’ Charlotte exclaimed.

Max pretended further difficulty, stumbling back and colliding with another couple.

‘Terribly sorry!’ he gasped, then coughed again. Meeting Charlotte’s alarmed gaze, he said, in great agitation, ‘I do apologise. I am unwell.’

With that, he fled the dance floor.

Lady Charlotte

With a gasp of shock, Charlotte watched Maximilian as he hurried from the ballroom, still coughing most alarmingly.

Why the man is near death! she thought with wonder.

Had she ever seen a gentleman look so pale? And the dark shadows around his eyes—he put her in mind of a deathly skull, staring out of a living face. Maximilian Emery was not long for this world, she was quite certain.

With that realization, Charlotte became aware that she was still standing in the middle of the dance floor without a partner.

Embarrassment flushed her cheeks with heat and she cast about for rescue. Lieutenant Roberts, very handsome in his dress uniform, saw her distress and moved with quick grace between the dancers, taking her hand and guiding her back into the steps of the allemande.

Even as she twisted and passed under his arm, Charlotte’s mind whirled far more rapidly.

Maximilian Emery, on the verge of death?

Had he really been so very ill? Why had Jones not spoken of it to her?

The rough man was somewhere on the estate. She would not fail to seek him out at her first opportunity and question him about it. Had he not thought it relevant to mention such a detail? Maximilian, pale and coughing up blood?

Gradually, Charlotte’s attention found its way to her dance partner. Lieutenant Roberts was gazing at her, a mild look of amusement