Page 34 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
It was too damning.
Arthur had thought through her predicament and given her a logical solution: marry a man with a title for protection, preferably a duke. This was Arthur’s way of comforting her, but it was not enough. She still felt as if she carried an insurmountable burden. Maybe, just maybe, she could tell James about theIncident.
He collected her hands into his own and looked at her imploringly. “Someone did something terrible to you. I beg of you, tell me who it is so that I can make sure they never hurt you again.”
There it was once more. James was offering her ultimate protection from the past. Charlotte opened her mouth to tell him everything, but before she could start, an image of blood trickling across the floor clouded her vision. Her body tensed.
“What is it?”
Charlotte shook her head, trying to dislodge the picture from her mind. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone.” The only person she could trust in the world was Arthur, and even that was taking a risk.
One slip of the tongue, and she was headed to the gallows.
No one else could learn of the truth, especially because Charlotte knew in her heart that the man outside her aunt’s town house was no coincidence. One day’s missteps had enmeshed Charlotte in something bigger, something scarier than she could ever imagine. There was only one thing she knew for sure.
Someone was out to get her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Four whole days.
Charlotte was trapped in her bedroom and restless. After the jarring episode near the mews and her brief stay at Lord Carrington’s town house, James had helped Charlotte safely back to her aunt’s abode. She was able to slip in unnoticed before the household awakened.
When Bailey came in the morning after the cutthroat’s attack, her lady’s maid immediately saw the bandage around Charlotte’s neck. The two decided it would be best to tell her aunt that Charlotte was ill.
Charlotte now knew the best way to keep Aunt Frances’s attentions at bay. Her aunt had not personally checked on her once, fearing she would become sick. She had a busy social schedule to uphold, after all. Due to these necessary obligations, she instead relied on reports from Bailey.
At first, Charlotte was relieved to have a respite from her aunt’s nagging, but after four long days of confinement, she would have welcomed her aunt’s badgering. She had written notes to Beatrice, Eleanor, and Bridget, inviting them to visit a tea shop with her, but she had to cancel with a vague excuse after she was attacked. Without any sustained distractions, shehad too much time to think about theIncidentand its related events, which made her more anxious about her future. To make matters worse, a certain sable-haired man, whose gray eyes changed as quickly as the wintry sky, invaded her thoughts each time she tried to plan the grand Society marriage she would have with the Duke of Westcliffe.
Charlotte felt her cheeks flush while she sat at the escritoire in her bedroom as she recalled the way James’s fingers had deftly brought her to an earthshattering release that evening in the gardens. But Charlotte knew he had not shown her everything. There was more.
She had once asked Arthur what happened between a man and a woman, but his cheeks had flushed just as much as hers, and he would not give her much information. Instead, she had to piece it together by eavesdropping on her brothers and their friends and by reading a lascivious book left behind when they went off to Eton. Yes, there was a whole lot more.
Charlotte tried to banish the Captain from her thoughts and stared at the letter she had avoided opening. She recognized its seal as that of the House of Westcliffe. Charlotte’s body was tense while she broke open the wax. She was worried that someone had seen her with James and told the Duke.
Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of the consequences of Westcliffe rescinding his attentions. Her hands trembled while she unfolded the foolscap.
Charlotte skimmed the contents. She had always been a quick reader and let out a sigh of relief. The Duke apologized for missing the past few days’ social events due to a family matter.
She was safe.
For now.
A knock on the door sounded.
“Come in,” Charlotte called out curiously. She had not seen anyone but Bailey these past few days. Her lady’s maid hadfortunately procured endless books and even a chessboard to help abate her boredom. Bailey must have thought of something else to occupy Charlotte’s time.
The door flew open and three well-dressed ladies marched into her bedroom.
“What a surprise,” Charlotte exclaimed. Beatrice, Eleanor, and Bridget surrounded her bed and promptly assessed her condition.
Beatrice, who seemed to be the leader the group, spoke first. “Although we only met briefly, something seemed off in your note canceling our trip to the tea shop. We were all excited to get to know you better. Just as I thought. You’re not in fact ill.” Her eyes focused on the bandage around her neck.
“Just a minor mishap. All is well,” Charlotte responded, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Captain Hughes was right.” This time, it was the voice of Bridget. Charlotte shifted to see the timid woman standing with her shoulders back just behind Beatrice. Her voice was bolder than Charlotte expected, given her behavior at the Markham Ball, though it still had a soft, melodic quality. Charlotte tucked away the fact that Bridget seemed more comfortable in an intimate setting with only women present.
“Captain Hughes?” Charlotte asked innocently, hoping she could hide her interest at the mention of his name.
