Page 38 of Touched By a Traitor
He chuckled softly. “A considerable challenge, I admit.”
“Then we are both about to discover our talents for deception.” She stepped back reluctantly. “You should go. Hannah will return soon.”
Andrew nodded, though his hands lingered at her waist a moment longer. “When this charade is over, Charlotte…”
“When it’s over,” she said softly, “we’ll speak honestly.”
He pressed one final, brief kiss to her lips before stepping away. “Remember—nothing you witness tonight is genuine.”
“I shall remember. I pray you do as well.” Despite her words, a flicker of pain stabbed at her heart before she composed herself.
As the door closed behind him, Charlotte pressed her fingers to her lips, still tingling from his kiss. Hannah returned moments later, chattering cheerfully about the evening ahead, but Charlotte barely heard her.
Her heart was already dreading the performance to come.
*
Approximately two hoursafter Charlotte’s presence had surprised him, Andrew stood beside his sister in the greetingline, smiling while he tried to confront his sister delicately. “You failed to mention you were inviting Miss Morton to this gathering.”
“It must have slipped my mind. My apologies, brother.”
“That is what I thought. You wouldn’t dream of playing matchmaker between the notorious bluestocking and myself, expecting her to advance your cause in medicine, would you?”
“Andrew!” Daisy’s eyes and mouth gaped open. “How could you imagine me capable of such a scheme?”
Andrew narrowed his eyes at her, and her lips quirked into a mischievous grin. “I can invite her but cannot force her heart. That, you’ll have to do yourself.”
“What on earth are you about?”
Instead of answering his question, Daisy’s face broke out into a wide grin, her teeth showing and eyes twinkling. “Doesn’t she look absolutely marvelous? A woman possessed of such beauty and intelligence must be rare indeed!” Daisy emphasized her sentiment by clasping her hands together.
Andrew’s attention shifted sharply to their subject of discussion, who was glowing radiantly yet clung appropriately to the Duke of Chatham’s arm. The duke’s niece occupied his other side, but Andrew’s chest tightened at the sight of Charlotte’s hand resting so naturally on Chatham’s sleeve.
Remember—nothing you witness tonight is genuine,he reminded himself, even as jealousy clawed at his insides. She was playing her part perfectly, just as they’d agreed.
As the threesome approached to pay their respects to the host, Andrew steeled himself for the performance of his life. His gaze traced the neckline of her dress, dipping low and revealing the supple mounds he’d kissed before. The deep-red hue of Charlotte’s gown seemed to mock him—a beacon of everything he must pretend not to desire.
Gathering his wits, Andrew drew in a steadying breath and summoned every ounce of aristocratic indifference he could muster. When Charlotte extended her gloved hand, he took it with calculated coolness, bowed perfunctorily, and released it with deliberate haste—as if touching her meant nothing at all.
The hurt that flashed across her features nearly undid him, even though he knew she understood the necessity. Her eyes darted about the room, and he recognized the performance for what it was—she was playing the part of a woman dismissed by her social superior.
Christ, we’re both too good at this,he thought grimly.
Turning to the duke, Andrew offered a more genuine handshake—it was safer to be cordial with Chatham than risk appearing jealous. When Lady Gloria curtsied, he bowed over her hand with precisely the same indifferent courtesy he’d shown Charlotte, though the child’s fluttering eyelashes made him inwardly cringe.
As the duke led the ladies away, Andrew fought every instinct screaming at him to follow. Charlotte looked magnificent in that crimson gown, the silk accentuating every curve he’d memorized. But he forced himself to remain motionless, to appear utterly unaffected by the vision she presented.
This is necessary,he told himself as Wilson’s calculating gaze swept over him from across the room.Protect her reputation. Follow the plan.
But watching Charlotte lean into Chatham’s protection, seeing how naturally she fit at the duke’s side, Andrew wondered if he was protecting her—or simply handing her over to a better man.
The performance had begun, and already it was torture.
*
A few hoursafter she felt Andrew’s calculated indifference, Charlotte held out her plate to the servers, swallowing at the sight of the heaps of food piled upon it. Gingerly carrying the plate, she ordered wine from a footman and looked around the dining room buzzing with impeccably dressed people. Not recognizing any faces, she headed toward the parlor and saw an empty seat where Daisy and Chatham were engaged in conversation with several young people.
As she approached, Daisy interrupted the discourse to enthusiastically wave her over. Charlotte gratefully sat between her hostess and a blonde woman who had one slice of meat and three slices of carrot on her plate.
