“I should go before anyone returns. There must be no gossip…”
Nothing to connect him with her; nothing to trap him, Charlotte thought. Briefly, she felt stricken. Then she remembered. She was in charge of her life. She had done what she wanted to do; there could be no whining now over consequences.
“I have no time to… to deal with…” He gazed at her, looking torn. “Charlotte, I am leaving town first thing tomorrow. I must travel to Derbyshire. I’ve had word from several sources that the countryside is about to go up like tinder. I cannot ignore this crisis.”
“Oh.” And what was she to say to that? She had no hold over him. He had no obligation to her. And the state of the country was undoubtedly important.
“People have reached a breaking point,” Alec added, almost as if pleading for understanding. “I need to provide some help and leadership for those on my lands, and perhaps others, if they will listen. There will be no hangings if I can help it.”
Sitting on her tumbled bed, barely clad in her thin linen shift, Charlotte could only nod.
“It is all arranged,” he finished. “I don’t know how long I will have to be away.”
“I… I hope you will be careful.”
Charlotte’s voice quavered, and Alec wanted to take her in his arms and promise that he’d come back to her. But he didn’t, because he couldn’t explain even to himself what that meant, precisely. He could not make her his mistress. Every feeling revolted at the idea. She was not the sort of woman to be relegated to the demimonde. But what else could he…? His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts and desires. They would have to reason it out when he returned, he told himself. The state of the country was an issue larger than either of them. Still, leaving her there on the bed, gilded by candlelight and clearly tinged by sadness, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life.
Twenty
Charlotte did not find the opera to her taste. She’d never been particularly musical, and it seemed that even the finest singing in the country was not going to change that. It sounded to her like senseless warbling, punctuated by screeching at the top of some very powerful lungs.
Or perhaps, truthfully, she was too preoccupied to enjoy any performance just now. She could think of nothing but Alec—his touch, and the wonder of it; what he thought of her now; and what would happen between them on his return. No matter how often she reminded herself that she had done as she wished, and damned the consequences, she worried that she’d forfeited his good opinion, destroyed her connection with his family. How could she have forgotten his sisters when she made her rash decision? If he forbade them to see her again, it would be a crushing blow. And Frances Cole, whom she had come to like very much; what would that aristocratic lady think of her if she found out? A trip to Greece was one thing; Charlotte’s escapade was quite, quite another.
These worries, joined with images of Alec’s dangerous errand, of riots and executions, of him stepping between furious factions and being caught in the crossfire, ruined her evening.
It did not help that Lady Isabella was distant and snappish all evening, seeming more interested in the champagne with which she had liberally stocked the opera box than in the music or conversation. She kept Edward’s glass constantly filled as well as her own and was disdainful when Charlotte refused a third. In fact, everything about the outing seemed pointless and irritating. The opera had scarcely begun when she was wishing she hadn’t accepted the invitation.
Thankfully, the ordeal was nearly over. The carriage clattered over the cobblestones, the sound a stark contrast to the silence within. Next to her, Lady Isabella leaned back against the cushions, her eyes closed. Edward lolled across from them, his handsome face marred by a loose smile. Charlotte wished that home was not so far away.
Lady Isabella sat up suddenly and peered out the carriage window. “Edward!” Her voice seemed loud in the closed space. “Tell the driver to turn here. I’m fagged to death. I must go home.”
Edward knocked on the roof and gave the instructions. Apparently, they’d been passing very near Lady Isabella’s neighborhood, because before Charlotte knew it they pulled up. Edward jumped out and handed his mother down. Neither