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After their impromptu argument, Charlotte didn’t see Seth again. Not after she danced for a second time with Lord Linfield, after she spoke with Ladies Keats and Kingman, not even after she sipped on some more lemonade while discussing the asylum with Lord Finch.
After visiting with Jane the other day, Charlotte had written Emma to let her know the young girl was completely fine and doing quite well. Emma’s reply had been short but undeniably grateful.
However, as the clock struck midnight, Charlotte was making her way across the room thinking she might go and speak with Lady Baxter when a manservant approached. Instead of walking by her as she’d fully expected, he stopped just beside her, his gaze staying on the wall past.
“Pardon me, my lady,” he said in a hushed tone. “A gentleman just outside asked that I give you something, and to do so most discreetly.”
“Oh?”
Instead of responding, the manservant pressed a bit of paper into her palm in such a way that Charlotte doubted anyone would have known even if they had been looking right at her. Charlotte closed her hand around the paper but kept her fist down by her skirt.
She opened her mouth to say thank you, but the manservant was already striding away.
Curious as she was confused, Charlotte looked about to make sure she wasn’t being observed. Lord Linfield, who’d been hovering around all night, was over by the drinks pouring himself yet another glass of brandy. Several of the ladies nearby were known to Charlotte, but not one of them was paying her the least mind at the moment. Still, Charlotte strode easily away from the dancing and closer to the wall where she might have a meager portion of privacy.
Checking once more that no one was watching, she opened her hand and read the note without pulling it out where others might see it.
East parlor. Fifteen minutes.
—M
Charlotte closed her hand, hiding the message from everyone once more. ‘M’ of course referred to Mulgrave.
She wished he would have just signed it ‘S,’ which would insinuate they had granted permission to one another to use Christian names.
But that was a silly thing to be pondering over just now. What she ought to be focusing on was why Seth hadn’t just come into the ballroom and spoken with her here and more still how she was going to slip out unnoticed.
Lord Linfield had spotted her near the wall and seemed to be making his way toward her once more.
Charlotte quickly took the note and stuffed it deep inside one of her gloves before he drew too near. Then she pulled both her gloves up so that it would appear she was merely fiddling with them as one often did throughout the night. With her back toward Lord Linfield, she walked forward casually, hoping he did not realize she’d seen him at all.
Still, what were the chances she would slip from the room without being followed by him? Not good.
Charlotte looked about for something with which to distract Lord Linfield. The perfect option came in the form of Mrs. Nicholson. The elderly lady, though quite wrinkled, with the most fidgety hands Charlotte had ever known, still enjoyed dancing as much as any.
“Mrs. Nicholson,” Charlotte greeted the woman, “how nice it is to see you this evening.”
“Lady Blackmore. I must say you look radiant this evening.”
That was right. Radiant. She wished Seth had been there to hear—and he thought her new dress a waste of money.
However much fun it would have been to stop and talk with the woman, Charlotte could feel Lord Linfield drawing closer by the minute.
“I was actually looking for you,” Charlotte fibbed. It was only a little fib—she had been looking forsomeone.Since that someone happened to be Mrs. Nicholson, it wasn’t exactly a lie to say she’d been looking for her all along. “Lord Linfield was just telling me he hasn’t danced the cotillion in ages. I would, but I am quite overheated already. You dance it so beautifully, would you—”
She got no further.
Mrs. Nicholson smiled even brighter. “The cotillion is one of my best dances.” Lord Linfield reached them that minute, but the elderly lady didn’t even give him time to address them. “Lord Linfield.” She beamed. “I would be delighted to join you in this dance.” She took the surprised man’s arm and dragged him toward the floor.
Charlotte gave him an only half-apologetic smile. Lord Linfield might not be thrilled, but Mrs. Nicholson would have a grand time, so Charlotte didn’t feel too bad. And gracious, but that talkative woman was strong; she didn’t give Lord Linfield so much as the chance to slow their step.
* * *
Charlotte slipped into the east parlor not ten minutes later. She’d moved through their hostess’s house slowly, checking corners and doorways. All in all, the secrecy had proved more than a little thrilling. Blessedly, the corridor leading to the east parlor had been completely empty, and she’d arrived with no one the wiser.
Seth was standing near the far wall, looking over the many books on the shelves there. He was in his element here, in the calm stillness. Surrounded by books and a gentle candlelight. What she wouldn’t give to have this sight before her every night. To sit and talk with him until the sun rose again. Charlotte noiselessly slipped farther into the room and sat in one of the chairs.
“You do realize,” she said, her voice soft enough it wouldn’t carry past the parlor, “there is a room full of candles and music, in which we could far more easily converse, only a few paces that way.” She pointed in the direction she’d just come.
