Page 36 of Touched By a Traitor
Gloria slumped in her seat, her displeasure evident.
Chatham turned his attention back to Charlotte, his gaze holding a teasing glint. “Well, Miss Morton?” he prompted. “What is your opinion of the esteemed Earl of Carlisle?”
Charlotte’s fingers tightened in her lap, memories of Andrew’s hands, his whispered words, flooding back unbidden. She forced her voice to remain steady. “The earl appears to be fiercely protective of his sister, and his mannerisms can be somewhat… direct. It is abundantly clear that he does not mince words.”
Gloria’s countenance brightened like a flower revived by a refreshing shower. “Oh, he is ever so lovely to Daisy. Beneath his tough exterior lies such a tender heart.” Her eyes sparkled with admiration. “And he is so handsome and strong.”
Charlotte felt her breath stall despite herself. She knew exactly how strong he was, how gentle those calloused hands could be.
Chatham’s brows shot up in alarm. “How do you know about his tenderness and strength? Is there something you should tell me?”
“Not at all!” Gloria hastily replied. “I’ve only drawn these conclusions from what Daisy tells me. She mentioned he works at the docks every week, regardless of his busy schedule, lifting nearly a hundred pounds for hours on end. And he always brings her the most thoughtful gifts when he returns from his travels. A man like that would make a wonderful husband.”
“Is that so?” Chatham threaded his fingers together, looking unimpressed. The gems adorning them glimmered in the light, matching the silver stitching of his attire. “And you, at the tender age of seventeen, fancy yourself an expert on such matters? Has Lord Carlisle shown any impropriety toward you?”
The direct question shocked both Charlotte and Gloria, who shook her head vehemently. “Not in the slightest! His lordship scarcely acknowledges my existence, treating me as if I were nothing more than a child.”
“From his perspective, my dear, you are precisely that,” Chatham said, visibly relaxing. He then turned his attention back to Charlotte, his expression growing thoughtful. “Though I must say, Miss Morton, a man in Carlisle’s position faces complicated loyalties. His business has grown considerably, and with growth comes obligations to rather influential investors.” He paused, studying her reaction. “I merely hope you’re aware that such men often find themselves caught between personal desires and financial necessities.”
Charlotte’s chest tightened. The duke’s words warred with her memory of Andrew’s vulnerability when he had spoken of waiting for her letter. Surely the man who had held her so reverently could not be capable of such calculation? Yet doubt crept in—what did she truly know of his business dealings?
“How do you think he might go about fulfilling his obligations to his investors?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“It is hard to say. Take his sister’s case, for example. If you were to fail, it could be enough to destroy your hard-earned career which is precisely what his shareholders are hoping for.”
“I shall not fail,” Charlotte said, perhaps more fiercely than necessary. “It is shocking that no one else had considered this line of defense. It is well-founded.”
Chatham nodded approvingly. “I have the utmost faith in your skills where law is concerned. It is your history with him that might blind you to traps.”
History.If only Chatham knew how recent—and how intimate—that history had become. Charlotte’s fingers unconsciously traced her lower lip, the ghost of his kiss making it seem tender. “I have considered it. When it comes to the case, my failing becomes his as well.”
The duke nodded. “This assembly should be interesting,” Chatham said, his eyes sparkling with hidden meaning.
Charlotte turned her gaze to the passing scenery, but her mind drifted to that dimly lit library, to Andrew’s voice rough with desire when he had saiddo not pretend.The memory sent traitorous warmth spreading through her body. She pressed her kerchief to her lips, fighting the conflicting emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
Could Chatham be right? Was she walking into a trap of Andrew’s making? Or was the trap simply her own heart, already ensnared by a man who might never be able to choose her over his empire?
In any case, she suspected she was already caught.
*
Charlotte stepped outof the carriage, her mouth agape at the sight of the grand mansion rather than the quaint cottage shehad envisioned. Tall oak trees lined the driveway, with moorland and gardens surrounding the imposing structure.
Daisy descended the front steps with a squeal of delight, enveloping Charlotte and Lady Gloria in a warm embrace. “Miss Morton, how wonderful that you have come! I simply cannot wait for you to meet my friends!”
“I’d be delighted to make their acquaintance,” Charlotte said with a smile.
Upon entering the house, Susie greeted them in the entrance hallway, beaming quietly in a lovely peach-colored dress. Daisy buzzed about like a bumblebee in bright-yellow silk, her barely contained merriment a sharp contrast to her brother’s surprised and gloomy countenance as he watched from a distance.
“What on earth is in your trunks? They must be heavy if our strongest footman is struggling!” Daisy’s eyes followed the two footmen carrying Charlotte’s belongings upstairs.
Charlotte chuckled. “I’m moving my office here for the weekend. They’re mostly filled with papers and ink.”
“That’s a relief. I thought you were hiding a body in there.” The ladies laughed while Charlotte’s gaze drifted to Andrew, who was shaking the duke’s hand with careful politeness.
“I’ll show you to your rooms,” Daisy announced. “Most of the guests have arrived and are enjoying champagne in the parlor.”
Once Charlotte was deposited in her luxurious chamber, a giggle escaped her lips. Before her stood a large, beautiful bed with the prettiest counterpane of pink silk. On it lay several dresses of bold colors—Daisy’s generous offerings. Charlotte threw herself onto the feather mattress with unladylike enthusiasm, rolling about until she was wrapped in the comforter like a sausage roll.
