Page 32 of Touched By a Traitor
He strode purposefully toward Charlotte, his hand outstretched. “Miss Morton, would you do me the honor of accompanying me for fresh air? The atmosphere has grown rather rancid.”
Charlotte’s gaze swept the room, taking in the amused and shocked expressions. With a nod, she placed her hand in Andrew’s, feeling comforted by his strong grip as she rose.
As they stepped into the corridor, voices grew louder behind them. Andrew turned to her. “I shall escort you home.”
Before Charlotte could respond, the Duke of Chatham appeared, his attire resplendent with jeweled buttons.
“Miss Morton,” he called, approaching with his usual grace. “I must ensure you’re comfortable with Lord Carlisle as your escort. Should you prefer, I would be honored to see you home.”
Charlotte felt the weight of both men’s gazes upon her. The safe choice would be the duke—returning to their established arrangement, their careful distance. But Andrew’s defense of her, the memory of his touch in the library, the way he’d looked at her with such longing…
She drew a steadying breath. “I am most grateful for your concern, Your Grace, but I believe Lord Carlisle and I have matters to discuss.”
Something flickered in the duke’s eyes—surprise, perhaps, or approval. “Very well, my dear. I bid you both good evening.”
Andrew’s expression showed careful restraint, but Charlotte caught the flash of satisfaction in his eyes as he offered his arm.
The carriage rolled through London’s darkened streets, the clip-clop of hooves and creak of wheels the only sounds breaking the charged silence between them. Charlotte sat rigidly upright, acutely aware of Andrew’s presence beside her in the intimate confines of the coach.
“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “For defending me in there.”
“Wilson’s a damned fool,” Andrew replied gruffly. “His behavior was inexcusable.”
Silence stretched between them until Charlotte spoke with deliberate lightness. “Well, I suppose you’ll miss Wilson’s evening entertainment. Though I imagine you’re quite familiar with such… diversions.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened, and she immediately regretted the jest. When he spoke, his voice carried unexpected vulnerability.
“Actually, I’ve never… that is, I don’t frequent such establishments. Never have.” He stared out the window at the passing gaslight. “Madam Tansley saved my life when I was twelve. She and Daisy were the only family I knew. When she summoned me the night we met, I thought perhaps one of her girls was in trouble.”
Charlotte’s breath caught, realizing her assumption had been entirely wrong. “You mean you weren’t there for… companionship?”
“My days were consumed by work, leaving neither time nor funds for such pursuits. From my youth, I learned to deny myselfsuch gratification.” His gaze found hers in the dim light. “Your presence was… an unexpected gift.”
The admission hung between them, raw and honest. Charlotte felt her assumptions about him crumbling, replaced by something far more dangerous—understanding.
“I thought…” she began, then stopped, color flooding her cheeks.
“What did you think?”
“At first, when we were standing in that parlor…” she said softly, “I thought you saw me as just another woman offering herself for coin. Another sordid transaction in a place built for such things.”
Andrew turned to face her fully, his eyes intense in the flickering light from the streetlamps. “I was terrified,” he admitted. “Terrified of what you were offering, terrified of how much I wanted it—and you. What happened between us that night wasn’t what either of us planned.”
“No,” she whispered. “It became something else entirely.”
“And tonight in the library?”
“Tonight felt like…” she paused, searching for words.
“Recognition,” he said simply. “Of something I’ve been searching for.”
The carriage hit a bump, jolting them closer together on the bench seat. Neither moved away.
“What are we doing, Andrew?” Charlotte asked, her voice thick with emotion. “This is madness. We can’t… there’s too much standing between us.”
“Is there?” His hand found hers in the darkness, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her gloved knuckles. “Because sitting here with you, it feels like the first time I’ve been able to breathe properly in six years.”
Charlotte’s resolve wavered as his words echoed her own feelings. “The duke… my position… your reputation. I am hardly the sort of woman an earl should be seen championing.”
