The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(54)

“Ah. Thank you.” He was pleased to learn this bit of information. Perhaps he had been away from Polite Society too long. “I was unaware that the proprieties had changed.”

“They have not,” his mother replied acerbically. “Your status has.” Webster appeared to announce dinner, and she placed her hand on his arm as they made their way to the dining room.

He held the chair for her at the foot of the table that had been shortened to accommodate the two of them, and considered what she’d said. He might indeed be allowed to keep Charlotte by his side, but he had the distinct feeling that would raise her ire enough to defy him. And that was not what he wanted. It would not only fail to advance his cause, but it would make him a laughing stock. It was much better to take his lead from her and not expect her to run in his harness.

He would like to see her refuse Harrington. For some reason, Con could not like the younger man. Charlotte had been clearly upset when she returned from her walk with the coxcomb. Had Harrington tried to press her to marry him? Or worse, berated her for being betrothed to Con? He wished he could ask her to confide in him, but it was too soon for that.

Con had taken his seat, and his mother had signaled the footmen to serve. She would never become used to the plates being set on the table. He wondered how Charlotte would keep the table once this house was hers.

Two hours later, he entered Lady Hereford’s ballroom. The woman was a friend of his mother’s, thus enabling him to discover that she loved the new German dance. News that did not make him happy. There were to be three waltzes, and he had Charlotte for only two of them. That meant some other gentleman, probably Harrington, would have his arms around her.

He spotted her halfway down the room, not far from Worthington and her sister, surrounded by her court. Several of them were much younger than he and obviously new on the Town. Endicott was there, as were Harrington and two other gentlemen with whom he was not acquainted. One of the men caused his brow to rise. Con was surprised that Worthington would allow Lord Ruffington within a yard of Charlotte. However, the man stood back and did not engage in the banter.

Unfortunately, it took Con several minutes to reach his betrothed’s side. It was amazing how many of his colleagues in the Lords had wives and eligible young daughters who must meet him. He managed to slide in between Charlotte and a young swain whose shirt points threatened to poke out one of the man’s eyes.

She had been laughing at a remark and, when she looked up at him, her eyes still sparkled with jollity. “Good evening, my lord.”

He bowed slightly. “My lady.” Other than Harrington, the other gentlemen seemed to step back a fraction. “I trust you are having an enjoyable evening.”

If Con was waiting for her to announce that his presence was all that was needed to make the night perfect, he would have been disappointed.

“I am. Lord Endicott has told me a very funny story about the two of you as children.”

Con cut his friend a look. “Not the bull.”

Charlotte’s laughter sounded like the tinkling of bells. “Exactly the one. Is it true you jumped down and distracted the bull so that his lordship could get away, and then had to hide behind a cow?”

“Cows.” He was sure he should not mention that several of them had been ready for the bull’s attentions. “One of them took pity on me and helped me get to the fence.”

“How clever of you.” She placed her fingers on his arm when she gazed up at him. “I hope you rewarded her later.”

That he wanted to carry her off and make her his did not surprise him. What shocked him was that his yearning had nothing to do with his pride. “Cows are much harder to please than horses, but I believe treacle was involved.”

The prelude to the first waltz began and he said, “My dance, I believe.”

She made a point of glancing at the dance card hanging on a silken ribbon from her wrist. Every line was filled. “It is, my lord.”

Harrington scowled and Con wanted to laugh.

Con and Charlotte took their places on the dance floor. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, he wished she would step closer to him. He put his hand on her waist, and her eyes widened for a moment before she lowered her thick, dark blond lashes. When they began to dance it was as if they moved as one. No other woman felt as if she were part of him like she did.

There was an attraction. He had not been mistaken when he’d felt it in the carriage as they’d fled from the inn. Yet how was he to convince her? She was likely too innocent to recognize the feelings she no doubt had when they touched.

He caught a glimpse of her brother-in-law as they circled the floor. Worthington was watching her like a hawk. There would be no help from that quarter.

Charlotte smiled at another couple.

“Who are they?” Con asked.

“One of my cousins, Miss Blackacre, and Lord Bentley. They recently became betrothed. They will marry in the country at his father’s estate.” Her voice softened when she mentioned the country.

“Will you be glad when the Season is over?”

Charlotte met his gaze with a serious one of her own. It occurred to him that she did not merely make polite responses, but honest ones.

“I think I shall. I have had a wonderful time in Town, but I miss the relative quiet of the country.”

“I know what you mean.” London was almost unbearable during the summer. He usually made a point to visit his estates, but also escaped to Brighton for a few weeks. Afterward, there were house parties to which his mistress would also be invited. It occurred to him that he did not have many friends to whom he would introduce Charlotte. He would remedy that as soon as possible.