Page 31 of Touched By a Traitor
“Good God, no.” Andrew’s face flamed. “That is to say… this is rather unprecedented.”
“Unprecedented?” She arched a brow, her composure returning as his crumbled. “My lord, are you suggesting I’ve introduced you to something new?”
“Charlotte,” he warned, though his lips twitched.
“I’m merely concerned for your household staff. Perhaps you should include hazard pay in their wages?”
Andrew’s jaw muscles flexed. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Am I?” She tilted her head innocently. “I’m simply being practical. Someone will need to explain this to the poor soul who handles your washing.”
“Charlotte…” His voice rumbled low.
“I will send a footman to attend to you,” she said sweetly, “while you attend to… that.”
She gestured vaguely at his breeches, grinning wider at his groan of mortification.
By the time Charlotte entered the dining room, the meal was well under way with glowing yellow and orange in the dozens of candles. The duke was seated next to Wilson while Andrew’s chair remained vacant. An empty chair waited for Charlotte at the far end of the table. The men beside her scowled as she took her seat, clearly unhappy about her presence.
Charlotte was left out of the conversation, the men talking over her when she tried to speak. She didn’t mind being ignored—it gave her time to savor the feast, having subsisted on the bare minimum in recent years. After she was satiated, she looked up to find Andrew entering, wearing borrowed breeches that were scandalously tight. Without looking in her direction, he seated himself.
Chatham’s voice cut through the din. “I do believe that query is best answered by our sole lady barrister.”
Charlotte’s heart pounded as she realized she’d missed the question entirely. “Please forgive me, gentlemen. I’m afraid the question eluded my attention.”
Chatham’s eyes glimmered with mischief. “Lord Wilson believes a lady barrister would find herself partial to her own sex, compromising her objectivity due to an inherent capacity for empathy.”
Charlotte fixed her gaze on Wilson, who had clearly been drinking heavily. “Does not the same hold true for gentlemen barristers when representing their fellow men?”
Wilson’s countenance darkened. “Nay, Miss Morton, for men are not prone to sentimentality. We possess the fortitude to maintain objectivity.”
She managed a faint smile. “Is it not men who, consumed by wounded pride, engage in brawls and wars? I daresay it is the masculine temperament more easily swayed by emotion. If women were truly the irrational sex, there would scarcely be a husband left alive.”
Laughter rippled through the room but was quickly silenced by Wilson’s flushed face. “Do you find the murder of husbands a suitable subject for jest?”
“No, my lord, I do not,” Charlotte replied steadily.
“To make light of such grave matters only highlights your own ignorance!” Wilson barked.
“I thank you, Lord Wilson,” she said with graceful composure.
Wilson stiffened in bewilderment. “Have you partaken too heavily of the spirits?”
“Nay, my lord. I merely expressed gratitude for your unwitting confirmation of my assertion. While your temper slips from your grasp, I remain in full possession of my faculties.”
Wilson’s face flushed crimson. The duke intervened smoothly. “Tell us, Lord Wilson, what entertainment have you arranged for this evening?”
Wilson’s smirk returned as he replied loudly, “We shall be diverted by ladies of the night, Your Grace. Their charms will provide ample distraction.” His gaze roved over Charlotte with deliberate insolence. “Perhaps you would care to join the festivities, Miss Morton? Your talents may well extend beyond the courtroom.”
Laughter echoed around her while Charlotte’s cheeks burned with indignation. But before she could respond, Andrew’s voice cut through the din.
“Miss Morton is a lady of quality, and I shall not abide any man treating her with less than the utmost respect.”
Charlotte’s heart swelled with gratitude, even as she felt heat at the memory of their recent encounter.
“Her presence here is entirely unsuitable,” Wilson said while glancing at Chatham nervously.
Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed, you are correct, Wilson. Miss Morton’s civility and grace far surpass the company present.”
