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Jeffrey placed a hand over hers once more. “I don’t consider it a dead end. Only a pause. I want to keep pushing.”
Charlotte exhaled sombrely. “I don’t understand why you want to help me with this. Perhaps it’s best that we both end our efforts. Perhaps I’ll finally find a way to achieve a full night’s sleep. Perhaps …”
“No. I haven’t been completely honest about my own circumstances, why I wish to help you.” Jeffrey’s eyes held hers for a long time. “You’ve heard that my brother died. The circumstances were quite strange, but nobody seemed interested in pressing forth, discovering the truth. It was deemed an accident forevermore. And I’ve been broken-hearted and vengeful ever since. Throughout the previous years, I would have loved to have a friend by my side. Someone to assist me on my quest to discover the truth.”
He took a delicate step forward so that there were only a few inches between them. Charlotte’s heart pumped against her ribcage.
“I want to be that friend for you,” he breathed. “I don’t want you to have to go through this alone, the way I’ve had to all these years.”
Suddenly, he leaned forward and bridged the distance between them. Charlotte’s lips parted; her eyes closed. A soft moan stirred from her throat as his hands latched along her lower back and pulled her into him. Her breasts spilled against his chest as he continued to kiss her hungrily, his tongue against hers, his hands gripping tighter. One of his hands stretched from his upper back and wrapped around her left breast.
His fingers dipped beneath the fabric of her gown and dragged it down until one glowing breast swept into his hand. He squeezed the nipple with a thumb and forefinger, and Charlotte dropped her head back and opened her eyes. His face was sombre, filled with urgency, as though this—this was what he needed to get through the night. How she ached to continue it. How she yearned for him to strip her bare, toss her dress in the corner, and burrow his face between her legs.
But again, a sound rang out from the ballroom. After a moment, Charlotte recognized it to be Louisa’s voice, calling her name. She furrowed her brow and turned her head.
“Charlotte? Charlotte, where are you? Something’s happened!”
Charlotte tucked her breast back beneath her gown. Jeffrey’s hands fell to his sides. There weren’t words that could possibly articulate everything that they needed to say. The space between them sizzled strangely.
Charlotte gripped her skirts, turned around, and hustled through the garden gate. Jeffrey remained behind her, just a dark shadow.
When Charlotte reached the steps that led to the ballroom, she found Louisa and Margorie in a heap. Louisa’s arms wrapped around Margorie’s shoulders, whilst Margorie giggled like a madwoman. Behind them, Harry pressed his hands over his stomach and staggered with his own laughter.
“They’ve got impossibly drunk,” Louisa whispered harshly towards Charlotte. “I’ve never seen such grown adults act like children.”
“Yes, you have,” Charlotte said, a smile stretching wide between her cheeks. “Of course, you have.”
Louisa rolled her eyes. “Even still. We have to get them home before they ruin both of their reputations.”
“Come now, little sister. You know that my reputation hasn’t had a single shred of hope since my divorce,” Margorie said. “I operate outside of the rule book at this point.”
Louisa glared at Charlotte and said, “If I don’t fix this, my mother will have my head.”
“Always so fearful of Mother, you are,” Margorie said with a funny sigh.
Charlotte—filled with regret in the wake of her kiss, yet knowing full-well that she had to assist Louisa with anything she could—dropped to the other side of Margorie and wrapped a hand beneath her armpit. After the count of three, she and Louisa pulled Margorie back to standing. Behind them, Harry continued to howl with laughter. He then shot up towards Margorie, placed his hands on her hips, and gazed into her eyes.
“I’ll never forget this night, not for as long as I live, my dearest Margorie.”
Margorie’s cheeks burned an impossible red. Louisa turned her eyes towards Charlotte and then rolled them back. Conversely, Charlotte felt impossibly pleased for Margorie. This was the kind of fire-burning, adrenaline-filled love that every woman deserved. Within the gaze that Margorie and Harry now shared, Charlotte saw a glimpse of what she felt for Jeffrey.
“I’ll see you soon, my love,” Harry breathed.
“Harry. You’d do best for yourself and my sister if you find a way home as well,” Louisa insisted.
“Don’t listen to her, Harry. Have a marvellous night,” Margorie said, her voice slurred.
“I’ve never seen anything so outrageous in my life,” Louisa whispered.
Slowly, the three women returned to the line of carriages. Louisa and Charlotte lifted Margorie into the belly of the carriage before joining her. Once the doors were latched closed, Margorie careened towards one side and nearly dropped her head on the wooden wall.
“Get hold of yourself, darling!” Louisa cried.
“Where was Charlotte, anyway?” Margorie asked suddenly, as she settled her head against Louisa’s chest once more.
“She’s right here, Margorie. Directly across from you. Or has the alcohol forced you to lose your vision?”
“When you first found me, Charlotte was nowhere in sight,” Margorie said. “I have a hunch that she was off performing similarly dastardly acts …”
