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Chapter 22
Charlotte returned to Peter’s now-consistent dinner party with the letter tucked away in her pocket. She, Louisa, and Margorie greeted Peter in the foyer of his grand estate and thanked him with little, girlish words, for the marvellous idea of yet another dinner party.
“You’ve really crafted a community for us, darling Peter,” Margorie said, just as Harry himself appeared in the foyer to say hello. She hurried towards him, already forgetting her brief conversation with Peter.
For a moment, Charlotte thought they might share a passionate kiss right there in front of them. Luckily, they held back, just touching hands and whispering, “Good to see you again,” as though those words could possibly be enough for all the emotion they felt for the other.
Peter’s eyes found Charlotte’s a moment later, as Harry and Margorie meandered down the corridor towards the back garden.
“They’re quite taken with one another. I received news of their engagement just yesterday,” he said.
“Yes. My sister is quite pleased,” Louisa said. Her face scrunched, proof of her sourness.
As they stood there, Louisa’s eyes towards the ground and her rage spinning across her eyes, the butler opened the door once more to find Jeffrey there, with his hand lifted already to knock.
“Terribly sorry, sir. I spotted you through the window,” the butler said. He stepped back to allow Jeffrey to enter.
Jeffrey’s eyes found Charlotte’s. “Good evening, everyone,” he said. “I trust everyone’s well?”
“Quite,” Louisa said. She turned swiftly, lifted her skirts, and hurried the rest of the way down the corridor.
Jeffrey arched his brow. “She seems displeased. Has she some pent-up rage towards me?”
“Not at all,” Charlotte said. She felt a smile begin to flicker across her lips.
The last time they’d seen one another, his hand had unfurled her breast from her gown; his tongue had swept across hers; their kiss had been illuminated only by the moon above.
“Very well,” Peter said. He clapped his hands together. “I suppose it’s time that we join the others in the garden?”
As they walked through the corridor, Charlotte couldn’t shake the feeling of Jeffrey’s eyes upon her back. When they finally appeared in the garden for a first drink, she felt as though her legs were jelly, wiggling around beneath her, giving her no sense of stability. She accepted the glass and clinked it with Jeffrey’s. Peter began to speak loudly, greeting everyone for the night.
At that moment, Charlotte lowered her voice, saying, “Jeffrey. I need to speak to you in private when you get a moment. It’s terribly urgent.”
Jeffrey seemed to sense the importance of her words, so much so that, after dinner, he managed to grip her hand behind the watching eyes of many an onlooker and sneak her out to the far garden, where, once again, they had only the moon above them for light. Again, Charlotte yearned to sweep her lips over his, to close her eyes and fall into another glorious, lust-filled kiss.
But instead, she gripped the letter in her pocket and unfurled it before him.
“I received this the other day. I haven’t known how to proceed,” she told him.
Jeffrey read the letter several times. “My goodness,” he said.
“I’ve been terribly frightened,” she whispered.
It was only now, standing before Jeffrey, that she understood the depths of her fear. She’d hardly slept a wink over the previous nights.
Jeffrey’s hand cupped her shoulder, then slid down her arm. He gripped her fingers and gazed into her eyes.
“I’m here, Charlotte. You mustn’t be afraid.”
Charlotte’s lips bubbled as she spoke. “I assume I’m next. They will kill me if I continue on this hunt. I’m sure they’ll kill you, too, whoever they are …”
Jeffrey stepped closer. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. Tears swept down her cheeks as she tilted her head upward and kissed him tenderly, her eyes closed. Her heart hammered with apprehension, with lust. Slowly, the kiss grew steamier, wilder.
Her lips opened to allow his tongue to flit across hers hungrily. A moan escaped his throat as he gripped her breasts over the fabric of her gown. His thumbs grazed over her nipples. The space between her thighs grew warm, wet. When the kiss broke, he held her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll stay by your side through all of this, Charlotte.”
How she ached to tell him to take her, right there in the garden. She yearned for him to splay her across the grass and make love to her, deep into the night. She hadn’t a care for any of the other members of this ridiculous dinner party. In her mind, every dinner party in the world was frivolous when compared to the murder of Brooks, the potential murder of herself.
