Page 36 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
Charlotte responded with the first one that came to mind. “Persephone.”
Eleanor’s brows furrowed. “That’s a bit depressing, don’t you think?”
“I’m being forced into a certain life against my will, just as Persephone was thrust into the Underworld. I think it’s an entirely appropriate choice,” Charlotte replied dryly.
A worried look crossed Eleanor’s face. “I see. I am sorry, Charlotte. I’ll make you look like the most beautiful Queen of the Underworld,” she offered.
“Thank you. I look forward to it.” Charlotte lifted the corners of her mouth in an attempt at a smile, trying to ease the tension she had caused in the room.
Beatrice moved the conversation forward. “Eleanor’s grandmother will chaperone the group to make it as proper as possible. Unless you would like Lady Hardwicke to come along.”
Charlotte scoffed. “Definitely not, but I appreciate the thought. If my aunt got wind of me attending this ball while being courted by the Duke of Westcliffe, she wouldn’t be pleased.”
Bridget shrugged her shoulders. “She may understand. I think it’s a rite of passage before being married off. My mother asked outright if I was going to be sneaking off to attend, knowing that it always occurred around the same date. When I told her I was considering it, a glazed look came over her face as she remembered her time at the Stanhope Ball while she was a debutante.”
The ladies then chitchatted about their costumes for the ball and some Society gossip before the trio said their goodbyes.
The moment the bedroom door closed, Charlotte hastily opened the letter from James. Her stomach dropped after she read the four words printed in his masculine scrawl.
Same time, same place.
Charlotte penned a response without a second thought.
Yes.
She summoned Bailey to deliver her note to Bridget before she left her aunt’s home. Although Charlotte’s emotions roiled inside her, she knew she had to see the Captain. She could not get him out of her mind, and she needed some sort of closure before she married the Duke.
She hoped this rendezvous would be enough.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
James peered into the alleyway behind Lady Hardwicke’s town house. He arrived early to ensure all was safe. Even so, he questioned his sanity. He was asking for another catastrophe to happen, but James could not help it.
He had to see Charlotte.
When Lady Bridget mentioned at the breakfast table that Lady Charlotte was ill, he knew why. He prayed she was hiding away to give the wound time to heal; however, he worried she had developed an infection. He needed to know she was well, so he encouraged Lady Bridget to visit her, his letter in tow. He was relieved to learn Charlotte was on the mend.
James had never felt such strong emotions before, and it was entirely unsettling. He fretted constantly about Charlotte’s safety and wished he could be with her always for protection. It was not just for her safekeeping though. He wanted to see those cornflower-blue eyes alighting with happiness or her freckled lips smiling in response to something he said.
God, he had even thought helovedher.
What a ridiculous notion.
It was a moment of weakness when he was scared she was gravely injured.
For a reason Charlotte would not reveal, she had to marry the Duke of Westcliffe to save herself. James’s fists curled. If only she would trust him, he could find a way to assuage the mysterious burden she carried and prevent a forced marriage to the Duke.
Then she could marry me.
He chided his traitorous mind. Even if she was freed of her commitment to the Duke, he would never be good enough for her.
The creaking of the iron gate that led out of Lady Hardwicke’s garden broke James’s ruminations. He had been so lost in his thoughts of Charlotte he did not even hear her approach him. He had never been this careless in his life. A slip of a woman was making him lose the instincts he had honed from years at sea.
A cloaked figure emerged from the gate, shadows hiding any features.
“Charlotte?” The figure quickly looked from side to side, and then the hood fell back, revealing chestnut hair loosely arranged in a chignon.
“James!” Charlotte walked toward him and threw her arms around his neck. She buried her head in his chest. He was taken aback, but in a pleasant way. He was convinced that she would never want to lay eyes on him again. But here she was, in his arms, and he did not want to let her go. He murmured sweet nothings and rubbed her back tenderly.
