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“Thank you.” Oliver walked over to the table and picked up his drink. He tossed it back before returning the glass to the table. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Charlotte. He had loved her, desperately, and he had let her walk out of his life… willingly. He had been a blasted fool for doing so, and his heart had yet to recover from it.
A knock came at the door, and Baldwin ordered, “Enter.”
The door opened, and Madalene stepped into the room. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she greeted politely.
Corbyn rose and bowed. “Good evening, Lady Hawthorne.”
Madalene smiled kindly at him. “It is good to see you again, Lord Evan,” she said. “Will you be attending the ball this evening with us?”
“I will not,” Corbyn replied, “but I hope you have an enjoyable evening.”
Baldwin walked over to his wife and whispered something into her ear, causing a blush to stain her cheeks.
Oliver felt a twinge of jealousy at the display of affection between his brother and sister-in-law. They were truly a love match, one that was the envy of theton.
Madalene turned her attention towards him. “Are you looking forward to the ball, Oliver?”
“I suppose I am,” he replied.
“Liar,” she teased. “You are dreading this ball as much as my husband is.”
Oliver chuckled. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”
“Flattery?” Madalene asked, smiling. “I would have thought you were better than that.”
Baldwin slipped his arm around her waist. “If you will give us a few moments,” he said, “we have some things that we need to discuss before we depart.”
Madalene tipped her head. “Of course. I will be in the entry hall with your mother and Jane.”
After Madalene departed from the room, closing the door behind her, Baldwin turned his expectant gaze towards Corbyn. “Is there anything else you needed to discuss?”
“Not with you,” Corbyn said. “Need I remind you that you are retired?”
“That may be true, but I am happy to render any assistance,” Baldwin pressed.
Corbyn huffed. “I am confident that Oliver can manage this assignment on his own, even if he has a swollen lip from being attacked yesterday.”
“I wasn’t attacked,” Oliver defended. “I willingly got into a fight. There is a difference.”
“With a man holding a dagger,” Corbyn said with a shake of his head.
“I had the situation under control,” Oliver insisted.
Baldwin crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Perhaps you can start boxing with Madalene every morning.”
“I wouldn’t dare hit a woman,” Oliver declared.
Baldwin smirked. “I underestimated Madalene once, and she nearly broke my nose,” he said. “But enough of that now, we don’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”
“Quite right,” Oliver agreed.
Chapter Three
Emmeline smoothed downher ivory gown with its pale blue overlay as the coach came to a stop in front of Mrs. Linfield’s townhouse.
The door opened and the footman extended his hand towards her. She placed her hand into his and stepped down onto the pavement. As she withdrew her hand, she heard her plump, white-haired companion complain from behind her.
“Good heavens, it is warm this evening.” Mrs. Jackson reached into her reticule and pulled out a fan and began fanning her face. “Aren’t you warm, dear?”
