Page 97 of His Wife, the Spy
“The secret is to not look afraid,” Jasper whispered. “We’re just another couple at a play.”
“Lady Ramsbury,” Ellen Harrow cried as she approached with a smile. “I was just coming to your box.”
“Lady Carmichael.” Annabel reached for her friend, grateful to see someone she knew wasn’t a threat. “I’m lucky you found us in this crush. I was just coming to you.”
The crowd jostled them, and Jasper’s hissed curse sent a ripple of fear through her.
“Are you well?” Ellen asked.
“I’m fine, but we should get out of this hallway.”
“You both look worn through,” Ellen said as she took Annabel’s arm. “We’ll go to the retiring room for some quiet. My husband is at the bar, Lord Ramsbury.”
Annabel looked over her shoulder as she left Jasper behind. His height kept him visible longer than most would be, and his smile gave her the courage she needed to keep up with Ellen’s quick pace and steady stream of gossip.
The retiring room was at the end of two hallways, the shorter of which connected the wings of the building. Annabel looked into the shadows to ensure their safety and saw a flash of light blue silk fly around the corner. A muffled cry followed.
The hair on Annabel’s neck rose. “I’ll be right in, Ellen. Excuse me a moment.”
Halfway down the hall, it was clear there was a struggle at the other end. One a lady was losing. Armed with nothing but her fan, Annabel wasn’t certain how she could help.
“Annabel.” Ellen reached her in two strides. “Where are you going?”
Thank God.“The Rushfords’ box is on the other side of the theatre,” Annabel all but shouted. “I’d like to pay my respects.”
Heavy footsteps thudded down the adjoining hall, just as they made the turn. All that remained was a shuddering girl in a lovely dress.
Annabel reached for her shoulder, meaning to offer comfort, but the girl flinched away with a gasp. Annabel mirrored it when she recognized the victim.
“Miss Bainbridge?”
Charlotte gathered her shawl to her shoulders, but not quick enough to hide the finger-shaped bruises on her arms.
“Shall I fetch someone? Perhaps the viscount—”
“No!” Charlotte drew a deep breath. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine in a moment.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you for your concern, Lady Ramsbury.”
It was the proper thing to say, but it wasn’t what Annabel had expected to hear from Charlotte. Nothing about this terrified girlresembled the young lady who had celebrated her engagement just last week.
Jocelyn Fletcher’s tales of Viscount Raines tumbled into Annabel’s brain and combined with what Annabel now suspected of him. The result put her in front of the young lady, blocking her escape. “Charlotte, do not marry a man who hurts you.”
The girl blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Annabel touched the bruises as gently as possible. “No man—no title—is worth this.”
New tears pooled in Charlotte’s eyes. “You don’t understand. It’s too late. The party, and the announcements, my dress. The settlements have been drawn up.”
“Surely your father would not want you married to brute simply to save paperwork,” Ellen said from her side of the hallway.
Charlotte used her handkerchief to dab the tears before they fell, but her lips still trembled. “No one else will have me after…” She put her hand over her mouth to muffle her sob. “Please. I can’t…”
“Youcan, Charlotte,” Annabel insisted. “It will not be easy, and it will require a great deal of bravery. Your friends—”
“Myfriendswould step over my ruined body to get to him. They would feign support over tea and then spread the gossip across London before dinner.” Charlotte sniffed. “I know because I’ve done the same.”
Annabel imagined Rachel in this same situation and knew what she would want her sister to have. “Then you make new friends, more powerful ones.” She tilted the girl’s chin and helped blot her tears. “You know where Lady Carmichael or I can be found when you need us. Knock on the door or send word, day or night.”
“Charlotte? What is taking so long?” Belinda Wallace called from the other, brighter, end of the hallway. “You don’t want to keep Melton waiting.”
