Page 45 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
He shrugged. “My sister and Darington were a love match.” Finlay gestured with his chin to where the Duchess of Ashwood stood, smiling up into her husband’s affectionate face. “You’d have to be blind not to see how enamored Their Graces are with each other.”
“Did you hope for more?” Her words were said on a whisper, although her pulse thundered in her ears. Her good sense told her it was a pointless question, but her breath caught just the same.
Finlay stared at Their Graces for a long moment, and just when she thought he wouldn’t respond, he said, “I’ve always wanted more, even knowing it was probably impossible.”
She knew all about wanting the impossible.
“How did you meet your husband?”
Charlotte fought valiantly not to sputter into her champagne, but the bubbles choked her. As she battled hiccups, she was chagrined to see the corners of his mouth start to twitch. She shot him the look Roderick had declared could incinerate steel.
It seemed to have the opposite effect on Finlay, however, for he let loose a hearty chuckle.
She wanted to be offended that he was laughing at her discomfort, but laughter looked so very good on him. The tight lines that had bracketed his manufactured smile and eyes had softened with his amusement. His eyes twinkled, and before long, she found herself smothering giggles with her hand.
“I’ve never seen a person so caught off guard.” He ran a hand across his mouth and wiped his grin clear. His brows furrowed. “Does speaking of your husband pain you?”
Grasping for footing at the abrupt change in atmosphere, she avoided his gaze but nodded.
“How long has it been since he died?”
She knotted her hands. “Two years.”
“In Bombay?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
She sensed him take a step closer. “And you have no family? He has no family who could help you?”
“No.” She dragged her head up and locked her gaze with his. “I’ve never had the luxury of a supportive, loving family, whether of my own or by marriage.”
Movement near the front door drew her attention, and her jaw unhinged. She stumbled back, certain her lungs had ceased working.
“What is it?” Finlay immediately asked, reaching out to grab her elbow.
She jerked her head back and forth, certain she was still incapable of speech.
He rattled her arm. “My God, Charlotte, is the man who accosted you here?” He scanned the crowd. “Tell me where he is.”
Finlay’s fierce voice broke through her panic, and as she battled to refocus on him, she noticed Lady Eddington watching them from nearby, a deep groove visible between her brows.
She had to leave.
Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek as she frantically searched the guests for Lady Flora, and the woman miraculously appeared beside her.
“Oh Mrs. Taylor, I seemed to have snagged my hem.” Leaning close, she said in a faux whisper, “Actually Lady Clementine Appleton stepped on it, but I’m certain she didn’t mean anything by it.” She wrinkled her nose. “At least, I don’t think she did.”
Taking in the bedraggled hem, Charlotte nodded. Relief loosened her muscles. “I can assist you in the retiring room, if you’d like.”
“But…” Finlay studied her face, not releasing his hold on her other arm. His mouth opened to say more, when he must have read the panic on her face. He slowly released her and took a step away. “We’re not done here. I’ll call on you tomorrow.”
Desperate to escape, feeling as if her father-in-law’s eyes were on her even at that moment, she agreed with a chin jerk.
As Flora escorted her away, Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to find Finlay following a short distance behind them. When they stepped out of the room, he lingered in the entryway watching their departure. His concern for her safety warmed the limbs panic had turned to ice.
It took her a moment to realize Flora was directing them to the back of the townhome rather than the retiring room. Sensing her confusion, Flora said, “We’re leaving, and when we arrive at Campbell House, you’re going to tell me why the arrival of the Townsends leached all the blood from your face.”
Chapter Sixteen
