reply to that kind of statement? “Er, how is John?”
“Married, and getting fat, like me,” the man laughed.
“I have never truly understood cricket,” said Miss Simmons, leaning in and breathing champagne in his face. “Do explain it to me.”
Alec managed to refrain from telling her that he would rather slit his throat. “Is this your first Season in London?” he replied instead. Unsurprised by her affirmative, he asked if she was enjoying it. It was like winding a clock; she ran on and on, leaving Alec free to watch Charlotte and plot a kidnapping.
Tony went for more champagne. An older woman came and extricated Miss Blake, looking as if she wanted to take her by the ear. Edward turned to speak to Mrs. Billings on his other side. Alec seized the opportunity. “Some sensible soul has opened a window. Would you care to get some air?” he asked Charlotte.
“It is hot, isn’t it?”
Taking this as agreement, he stood, offered a hand, and urged her to her feet. Maintaining possession, he pulled her arm through his and navigated a path to the open French doors. “You didn’t mention that you were coming tonight,” she said.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” He kept walking—through the doors and out onto a flagstone terrace. Other couples strolled there, taking advantage of the night air. Lanterns made pools of light in the gardens.
“Oh, it’s lovely.” Charlotte raised her eyes. “The moon’s up.” She took a deep breath. “Something in the garden smells wonderful. I’ll have to ask Mr. Trask about planting some of it, now that it’s May. I want lots of fragrant things like this.” She breathed deeply again.
Alec felt the rise and fall of her torso against his arm. Heat brushed his skin like trailing fingers. Without thought, he pressed closer. Charlotte looked up at him and smiled.
A man could fall into those copper eyes, he thought, and never come out again. It would be easy and delicious—and dangerous. He said the first thing that came into his head. “I got the key from Holcombe. He had kept it, as we suspected.”
Charlotte’s smile faded. “Oh… good.”
The enthusiasm had left her voice, and he cursed himself for an idiot. He could have talked about gardens or any other damned thing.
“I suppose you’ll bring it by,” she added tonelessly.
“I thought tomorrow,” he said.
“All right.”
“It would seem to me that…”
“Shall we rejoin the group?”
Alec cursed silently again. “Don’t you find them rather tedious?” Irritation made his voice too sharp. He retained possession of her arm and did not move.
“No. Why would I?”
“Well…” Because they are, was the only reply that occurred to Alec.
“They’re kind and amusing… and restful.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“They never talk about anything… lowering. And they don’t… require anything of me. I don’t have to think about Henry or what I am going to do. They make me laugh.”
Alec got the point. He was the one who reminded her of her problems, and did depress her spirits. But Edward was just as much Henry Wylde’s nephew as he. Why didn’t some of that stigma apply to him? “Edward’s set is rather fast, you know.” He’d planned to talk to her about this at some point, but not in such a self-righteous tone.
Charlotte shrugged.
Alec knew he should stop himself, but he couldn’t. “Their company could damage your reputation. You should take care to…”
“My reputation as a duped and penniless widow?” she interrupted. “With no prospects or real connection to society?”
“You exaggerate…”
“Here as a result of Lady Isabella’s charity?” Her voice had grown sharp. A woman nearby turned to gaze at them.
“I would hardly call it…”
“Am I not entitled to a bit of amusement?” Charlotte broke in again. “I don’t see why you should begrudge me that.”
“I do not!”
She tugged at his arm, forcing him to move toward the open door—or create a scene for the avid eyes around them. “It doesn’t seem too much to ask. I cannot see the harm in a few amusing stories, a… respite from the problems that, yes, must be addressed.” She sounded near tears. Alec felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. He wanted to argue that she was being unfair, and he wanted to sweep her up and remind her that they’d shared a kiss that was far from being a “problem.” Except that it was. He hated this roiling mixture of emotions that tied his tongue.
They stepped through the doors, into the heat and roar of chatter. Charlotte freed her arm; he had to let