Page 40 of Touched By a Traitor
“No. This protection serves us both.” She drew a steadying breath. “Besides, Andrew plays his part convincingly. Perhaps Lady Lidia truly would suit him better.”
“He watches you when he thinks no one notices.”
Her heart raced treacherously. “That could mean many things.”
“Charlotte.” His serious tone made her stop and face him. “Have you seen the columns about us in the scandal sheets?”
“No, what do they say?”
“They speculate that you are my mistress. They claim you compromised yourself to graduate. My darling, our arrangement has protected me brilliantly, but I fear your reputation cannot survive much longer.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to her stomach. “What are our options?”
“We could marry.”
Her eyes widened. “His Majesty would never accept such a controversial figure into his family.”
“Perhaps he would view it as the lesser evil.” The duke’s smile was melancholic. “It would be easy for us, seeing we already love each other.”
Charlotte stared at him, weighing the safety of his offer against the dangerous hope Andrew’s glances had kindled. In the distance, she could hear the murmur of the dinner party continuing—Andrew maintaining his performance, just as she was maintaining hers.
But for how much longer could either of them sustain this charade?
*
Andrew had watchedwhen Chatham escorted Charlotte out of the parlor for their private conversation. Almost an hour later,he was keenly aware of their re-entry, both wearing expressions of renewed intimacy that made his chest tighten with dread.
They’re playing their parts well,he told himself, even as jealousy clawed at his insides. Too well, perhaps. The sight of Charlotte’s radiant smile directed at the duke—genuine affection rather than mere performance—pierced through his carefully constructed defenses.
A quartet filled the air with pleasant melodies, and liquor flowed freely, but Andrew suddenly felt as though the walls were closing in. Despite his best efforts to appear captivated by Lady Lidia’s simpering, his attention remained fixed on Charlotte. Every graceful movement, every melodic laugh shared with Chatham, reminded him of what he was pretending to reject.
“Whose murder are you plotting with that glare, Carlisle?” a smooth voice inquired.
Andrew turned to find the Marquess of Hereford and the Duke of Lancaster flanking him, their gazes fixed appreciatively on Charlotte.
“It appears he’s quite taken with the lady in red,” Lancaster observed with a knowing smirk.
“Isn’t she a true beauty, Hereford? Just look at those dark curls cascading over her silky skin. Why, she must bathe in—”
“Utter another word about Miss Morton’s bathing habits, and I’ll break every bone in your body,” Andrew growled, his voice low and menacing.
“A bit possessive for a man showing such marked interest in Wilson’s vapid daughter, are we?” Hereford interjected, raising an eyebrow.
Andrew’s jaw clenched. “What took you lot so long? You were to arrive this afternoon.”
“As higher-ranking peers, we arrive when we please,” Hereford replied with mock hauteur. “That, and we were delayed procuring Daisy’s birthday gift.”
“Which is?”
“Other than our magnificent presence? What was it Daisy said, Lancaster? ‘You are the brother I always hoped for but never had’?”
“Touching sentiment,” Andrew muttered, then stiffened as he caught sight of Chatham’s arm sliding around Charlotte’s waist. The duke pulled her closer, raising his glass in what seemed like a subtle toast in Andrew’s direction.
Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Daisy begged us to knock some sense into you about Miss Morton,” yet another voice announced. “Called you a ‘stupid, stupid man,’ if memory serves.”
“Preston!” the two men exclaimed, greeting their friend with enthusiasm while Andrew remained transfixed by the intimate tableau across the room.
