Page 42 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
So this was how it felt to be a wallflower.
Charlotte had always supposed she’d occupy the perimeter of a ballroom were she to have ever had a Season, and it seemed she was correct.
This thought amused her as she stood against the paneled wall in the Eddingtons’ crowded music room and observed the antics of their aristocratic, wealthy, and powerful guests. Most walked past her without a glance in her direction, but some studied her curiously…or critically. She showed no regard for their critiques, for she’d been forced to deal with them, in one form or another, all her life. Instead, she allowed herself the pleasure of watching Finlay.
He moved about the room as she suspected an alpha wolf moved amongst his pack, with an easy dominance that caused the crowd to split before him and bask in his approving smiles. Even now, he stood next to Lord Inverray, surrounded by several older gentlemen who appeared to be listening intently to whatever he was saying. Within seconds they burst into laughter.
She raised a trembling hand to her brow, remembering all too clearly how his sharp wit forced reluctant chuckles from her. How powerful his smiles could be. Never had anyone rendered her, practical, no-nonsense Charlotte Taylor, completely boneless.
Charlotte peered over at him again. There was something about his smile, though, that seemed…off. Straightening her spine, she mentally shook away her concern. Finlay Swinton was so far outside her realm of existence, it was foolish of her to even think she could know when he was being sincere or playing a part.
She scowled as she forced herself to remember Lady Flora had invited her to stay at Campbell House to keep her safe, and in turn she was to keep the Scotswoman from…slaying everyone with her razor-sharp tongue?
Her chin dropped to her chest. If that was her measure of success, she’d failed within the first ten minutes of their arrival.
“Have you fallen asleep already? I usually wait until the performances have started, at least.”
She jerked her head up and met Flora’s laughing green eyes. She smothered a jolt of surprise when she noticed a woman standing next to her who looked strikingly, almost eerily like her.
Undoubtedly reading the astonishment on her face, Flora wrapped an arm through the ebony-haired woman’s.“Yes, this is my sister, Juliana. Or as she’s properly titled, the Duchess of Ashwood.”
“Your Grace,” Charlotte mumbled, immediately sinking into a deep curtsy, “I’m honored to meet you.” Rising, she looked guiltily at her gorgeous blue gown. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to wear this gown. It’s much too fine for someone such as me.”
“Someone such as you?” The duchess’s silvery voice drew Charlotte’s gaze. “Do you mean a schoolteacher? I can assure you I never considered such a thing.” She hesitated as she inspected Charlotte with a critical eye. “In fact, I’m certain you look leagues better in that gown than I could ever hope to.”
As Charlotte stuttered to refute Her Grace’s claim, Flora held up a hand. “Do yourself a courtesy, Charlotte, and just agree with her.”
Inclining her head, Charlotte said, “I would never dream of contradicting a duchess.”
“But so many are in need a of worthy challenger,” the duchess said, her chest heaving on a sigh. “Flora assured me you do not suffer fools.”
Opening her mouth for an uncomfortable moment with no sound exiting, Charlotte snapped her jaw shut. “I fear the havoc I’d wreak if I had been born titled.”
Charlotte observed with mounting confusion as the sisters exchanged a loaded glance.
“She’ll be perfect.” Her Grace of Ashwood gave a decisive nod.
“I told you she was.” Flora rocked back on her heels, delight and satisfaction lighting her face. “If all goes as planned we’ll rule theton.”
“Mo creach, you’re so dramatic.” The duchess groaned, smacking her forehead with fingertips. Turning to Charlotte, she said, “Pay her no mind. She’s read too many gothic novels.”
Over Flora’s disgruntled “You read them, too!” retort, Charlotte said, “It’s hard to ignore her, Your Grace.” She regarded her employer seriously. “I learned quickly it’s never wise to ignore Lady Flora.”
“She becomes impossible if she thinks she’s being ignored,” the duchess scoffed even as she pressed her cheek to her sister’s.“Even as a wee lass, she’d shriek an unholy sound just to ensure we paid attention to her.”
A fierce, crippling longing gripped her heart and squeezed it tight.This, she thought as she gazed upon the Campbell sisters, this was what she had always wanted. What she’d searched for. Family. A sense of place. Of belonging. She’d thought she’d found it with Roderick, and perhaps for a short time she had. The details of his face and the pitch of his voice had melded into memory, and time couldn’t erase how he’d looked at her every day when he’d return to their small flat after work—as if she were the sun and the moon and the stars combined.
Charlotte bit back an inconvenient and unwanted sob. Now she was left with only teasing wisps of unrealized promise.
And now Finlay was doing his best to torture her with what could never be.
“What do you mean by ‘rule theton’? she asked, determined to refocus on the conversation at hand. If it was unwise to ignore Lady Flora, she could only imagine how foolish it would be to ignore her sister as well.
“Yes, Flo,” the duchess crooned, bumping her shoulder into her sister’s, “do tell Mrs. Taylor what you’re referring to.”
Flora sniffed disdainfully at Her Grace and then swiftly grabbed Charlotte’s hand. As if she was afraid Charlotte would leave. Or escape. “I have merely mentioned to Juliana how smart it would be if we formed a group of patronesses who could argue for the welfare of the children at Little Windmill House.”
Charlotte pulled her head back. “But isn’t there already a group of patrons in place?”
