Page 70 of Duke of Sapphire

“Because I did not want to watch you decline him in front of thirty people while they all waited to see how you did it.” The words came out flat, almost businesslike, but she caught the faint edge of irritation beneath them. “You should not have to manage Redmont in public. That is not your work.”

Charlotte said nothing.

The figure closed and they separated again, and she moved through the rest of the set with her chin level, and her form correct and her heart behaving with considerably less dignity.

When the cotillion ended, Henry returned her arm to his and steered her toward the side of the room with a certainty that suggested he had already identified the precise location he wished her to occupy.

“You are keeping me very close,” Charlotte observed.

“Yes.”

“Is this a permanent arrangement for the evening?”

“I have not decided.”

She looked at the room. Redmont had withdrawn. She could not immediately find him, which was, she thought, its own kind of information.

“He is not going to approach me again tonight,” Charlotte said. “Not with this many people watching.”

Henry looked at her. “You are very confident of that.”

“I am very confident that he is too careful to make a scene in a room full of the ton.” She tilted her head. “Whatever his purposes are.”

Henry did not look reassured.

Half an hour later, Charlotte leaned toward him. “I need the retiring room.”

“I’ll find you near the east door when you return.”

She nodded and went.

The retiring room was down a side corridor, past two sets of double doors and around a short turn that cut the ballroom noise to almost nothing. A housemaid was stationed there with pins and a small pot of powder. Charlotte sorted herself, thanked her, and started back.

She was three steps from the turn back to the corridor when she heard him.

“Your Grace.”

Charlotte stopped.

Redmont was standing at the end of the short corridor. He had positioned himself—and it was a position; she understood that immediately—between her and the route back. He was smiling.

“A fortunate coincidence,” he said.

“Lord Redmont.” She kept her voice even. “Excuse me.”

She moved forward. He did not move.

“I only want a moment,” he said. “One small conversation. Surely that is not too much to ask.”

Charlotte looked at him.

“You disappeared,” Redmont said. “Overnight. Not a word, not a note. And now, here you are as the Duchess of Sappherton.” The smile was still in place, but the warmth in it had gone somewhere else entirely. “I find myself rather curious.”

“I cannot think why.”

“Can you not?” He tilted his head. “We had an understanding, your father and me. It had been discussed at some length. And then you—” He paused, as though choosing the word. “Elected otherwise.”

“I married someone else,” Charlotte said. “That is what I did. It is entirely legal and entirely final, and it is, I’m afraid, none of your affair.”