Reckless (16 page)

But she found herself looking at hands. Lina had
any number of callers, but for some reason she'd stayed home recently, and no one had spent the night with her. The gentlemen came, and she looked for hands as beautiful as Rohan's. With long, artist's fingers, deft and elegant, and narrow palms. Clever, beautiful hands.

She'd known she'd never find a man with a face that pleased her as much as Rohan's. And no one had that lithe, agile body, that almost feline grace.

But she'd hoped she'd find comparable hands.

There weren't any. The men of the ton had hands that were pale, well kept. But either their fingers were too short or their palms too squat, their fingers stubby.

She sighed. It was impossible, and she knew it.

The more time passed, the easier things would be, she promised herself. For the first week she did nothing but weep, something that alarmed poor Lina, who'd seldom seen her stalwart best friend shed a tear, much less become a total watering pot. It hadn't taken Meggie long to ferret out the truth of how she'd spent the time in Sussex— Charlotte was unused to lying, unused to secrets and feeling too miserable to resist Meggie's efforts, and from then on Lina knew everything. It had taken all Charlotte's limited energy and threats to keep Lina from her declared revenge, with only common sense finally tempering Lina's desire to defend Charlotte. “If you make a fuss then everyone will know,” Charlotte had said. “It was my
choice—I wasn't forced. And the last thing I want to do is end up married to a libertine. I think he was an excellent choice to deflower me, once I decided that was an interesting idea, but anything more than that would be disastrous.”

Lina had been distracted. “Just how excellent was he?”

“I'm not about to tell you. Besides, I have nothing to compare him with,” Charlotte had said primly, trying not to gag on the herbal tisane Lina insisted upon her drinking.

“But you enjoyed it? He made it pleasurable? You achieved…rapture?”

Charlotte had felt her face flush. “Yes.”

“Damn,” said Lina.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, I'm certainly not going anywhere near him now. I consider him your property, and I would never trespass.”

“He's hardly my property. Have at him,” she'd said with an airy wave of her hand, almost managing to convince herself she meant it. “After all, you wanted him first.”

“Now, I know that isn't true. You've been pining for him these last three years, God knows why. Admittedly he's gorgeous, but you're hardly the type to be overset by simple beauty. Why?”

Because he has sad eyes, she could have said. Because he tries so very hard to be bad, to be mean,
to be cruel, and all you have to do is look past the studied ennui to see a hurt little boy trying to emerge. And, yes, because he's bloody gorgeous.

But she said none of this. To say it out loud would burn it into her heart.

“I have no idea. But I'm done with him. Feel free to try your luck.”

“No,” Lina had said firmly. “Drink your tea.”

Which she'd done, quite dutifully. And been rewarded, a week ago, with a few betraying drops of blood signaling the onset of her menses. Nothing had happened since then, but it was enough to ensure nothing had come of the two illicit days with him. After all, he'd…he'd pulled out of her, hadn't he? To ensure that nothing untoward had happened.

She'd tried to explain that to Lina but gotten hopelessly tongue-tied. “Never mind, darling,” Lina had said. “I know what you mean, and I thank God he had at least that much sense. You'll still drink the tea. Accidents can happen, and nothing is ever foolproof.”

And so it went. The doctor had declared her right as rain from the aftermath of her fall, and Charlotte refused to let him examine her more intimately. Nothing had happened to her that hadn't happened to most women in the world—it was hardly worthy of medical interest.

In the end it had been an all-around disastrous idea on her part, dressing up to play with the Mad Monks. She knew why she did it. Not for scientific inquiry,
it had been for Rohan—she'd been drawn to him in all his self-destructive glory. Seeing him in flagrante delicto was supposed to cure her, wasn't it?

Instead she was even more tethered. If she'd stayed a virgin she would never have known what she was missing, and this was a rare case where ignorance was bliss. Not as much bliss as carnal knowledge…but a different sort of bliss. A nice, solid, serene sort of bliss that was much lacking in Charlotte's life for the last few weeks.

The one thing that both Meggie and Lina didn't know was that she hadn't just fallen down that embankment, she'd been pushed. By one of the Mad Monks.

And she had the unbearable suspicion that it might have been Adrian himself.

Lina swept into the solarium, her full skirts dancing on their hoops. “Darling, you're not wearing that hideous old dress, are you? This is your first night out since Sussex. Surely you can look a little more lively.”

Charlotte set down her tea. “I was thinking we might wait another few days. I'm not sure that my ankle is completely healed, and I don't seem to have regained my usual energy. We can start with a walk in the park, perhaps tomorrow, instead of a ridotto at Ranelagh Gardens.”

“A
walk?
” Lina demanded, horrified. “Sweetings, I don't walk. Besides, Ranelagh will be just the thing.
Apart from the masquerade, there will be music in the rotunda, dancing and all sorts of amusement.”

“I hate masquerades. Besides, if I'm to have a domino to cover me from head to foot then why does it matter what I wear?”

“In case you wish to wander down one of the private paths with a gentleman and unmask.”

“I may have lost my virtue, but I haven't become a trollop,” Charlotte said sharply, and then clapped her hand over her mouth. Wandering alone down private pathways was the main reason Lina went to Ranelagh.

“Don't worry, Charlotte,” Lina said, totally unperturbed. “It will take a great deal more than that for you to reach my exalted realms. Besides, I've given it up.”

“Given what up?”

“Dalliance. You see before you a new woman, above such tawdry stuff as assignations and lovers. I intend to be sober and devote myself to good works.”

Charlotte looked at her in amazement. “You're joking.”

Lina smiled. “A bit. But I've grown weary of bed sport. It won't harm me to give it up for the time being. So, don't worry, I won't leave your side tonight. We'll have darling old Sir Percy Wainbridge as our escort, and no importunate gentlemen will be allowed to steal either of us away.”

“I still don't—”

“And I assure you that Viscount Rohan has never been seen inside the confines of Ranelagh Gardens. He much prefers the tawdrier pleasures of Vauxhall, and even that's too tame for him. He prefers gaming hells and brothels. You don't need to worry about running into him. Does that set your mind at ease?”

“I wasn't worried about that in the slightest,” Charlotte lied.

“Of course you weren't. And you'll wear that pretty green dress that you always leave hanging in your closet, and just to make you feel entirely secure we'll both powder our hair. It's out of style except for old ladies, and the tax on hair powder is ruinous, but it's just the thing for a masquerade. Do it for me, love. We need to celebrate! Your recovery and my celibacy! Cheers!”

“Cheers,” Charlotte said with a singular lack of enthusiasm. And went upstairs to change.

I
t was a beautiful spring night. After a week of rain the skies had finally cleared, the moon was bright overhead and the air was soft and warm. It was a night made for lovers, Charlotte thought grimly, glad of the mask and domino. Her scowl should scare anyone away, and if Lina forgot her vow of celibacy and decided to seduce their elderly escort she could always manage an early escape.

Unfortunately, Lina showed no sign of abjuring her recent commitment. Her thick black hair was powdered but arranged neatly, with only the most demure of sapphire and diamond-studded hairpins scattered here and there. While she hadn't avoided the rouge pot completely, she'd used a far less lavish hand, and she'd abandoned beauty patches altogether. If her intent was to play down her spectacular beauty it was a failed effort. Amazingly, without the artifice she was practically incandescent.

Her gown beneath the somber black domino was even more demure than Charlotte's. For some reason, Lina had ordered a whole raft of dresses with more sedate décolletage, in softer shades than her usual bright crimson and royal blue. Instead the new dresses were a soft rose, a moss green, a pale blue that perfectly matched her eyes. She was more exquisite than ever.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how Charlotte wanted to look at it, all that beauty was hidden by the mask and domino. With the powdered hair, she could have been mistaken for anyone, even Charlotte.

“It's a bad night,” Charlotte said darkly, looking around her.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Lina said. “It's glorious out—it would be a crime to spend such a night indoors.”

“It's a full moon. Meggie warned me before I left. She said there's trouble afoot. Men behave badly when the moon is full.”

“You need to tell that wretched girl to keep her tongue in her mouth. Besides, men behave badly no matter what.”

“Maybe we ought to go home,” Charlotte said stubbornly. “There's no need to court trouble.”

“You're being absurd,” Lina said firmly. “We're here and we're going to enjoy ourselves. Sir Percy's going to bespeak us an excellent supper, there's a
concert in the rotunda and dancing in the pavilions. We needn't dance if you mislike it, Charlotte, but remember that no one can tell who we are. This way you can enjoy yourself without any fear of being recognized. You can flirt madly, with no consequences, and who knows, you might find you enjoy it.”

Charlotte didn't even bother answering such absurdity. She was tired, her appetite was off and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself on the dance floor. All she wanted to do was go home and go to bed. And clearly Lina wasn't about to take pity on her and release her.

Sir Percy, seventy if he was a day, bowed, his own bewigged head bobbing a little low. Of all Lina's safe escorts, Sir Percy was her favorite, a consummate gentleman of the old school who found all women delightful and flirted so well that even Charlotte lost her reserve and flirted back a bit.

They moved down the well-lit paths, nodding at others in fancy dress. Some were quite recognizable, wearing outfits meant to look like those from ancient Greece or exotic China, but mainly constructed to show off the feminine figure. Most of the men made do with a simple loo mask that they could raise or lower as they willed, and the few who were in fancy dress contented themselves with an enveloping domino.

The gardens were in full regalia, with lights everywhere except the paths meant for flirtations and the
lovers' maze behind them. The artificial canal was afloat with small boats meant to resemble Venetian gondolas, there were strolling minstrels in the Italian style, acrobats and jugglers and all manner of entertainment. Charlotte just wished they'd all go away.

Dinner was relatively vile, for all that the meals were famous. The best she could manage was a little bread and the blancmange, and even that didn't seem to be sitting too well. Meggie's predictions of disaster had affected her, she decided. In truth, Lina was right. It
was
a beautiful night, and after such a rainy spring it would be foolish not to enjoy it.

Charlotte sat alone at a table in the grass, toying with her glass of lemonade. The thought of wine made her ill as well, but then, she'd never been overly fond of it. Lina had gone off with Sir Percy for a stately minuet, as befitted Sir Percy's age and Lina's attire, and Charlotte glanced around her.

It should have been an interesting sensation, being invisible among all these people, but then, she didn't need a mask, domino and powdered hair for that experience. In truth, she'd always been invisible to most of them.

A lively country dance had started up, and Charlotte began tapping her foot beneath her heavy skirts. Her ankle was almost as good as new, and if she were alone somewhere, out in the countryside, she would have danced.

Sir Percy returned to the table, his florid face
flushed with delight. “Lady Whitmore's dancing with young Marchmont, and she sent me to collect you and to take no excuses.”

“Oh, I don't dance,” she said firmly.

“She told me you'd say that, and not to pay any attention.”

She tried her best smile. “Truly, I can't. I hurt my ankle a few weeks back.”

“She told me you'd say that as well. You haven't been favoring it. Be a good girl, now. I'm an old man and most young women won't dance with me. I tend to forget some of the figures, and people get impatient. And I do so love to dance.”

He was doing his best to look pitiful, and there was nothing Charlotte could do. She could give any importunate young man a thorough set-down, but Sir Percy was the sweetest man in the world, and had always been a good friend to her.

She rose reluctantly, taking his proffered arm. “Wouldn't you rather go for a walk?” she asked somewhat desperately.

“Miss Spenser!” he said in shocked tones. “Are you suggesting we set up a flirtation? I'm deeply flattered, but I'm afraid I'm past such things.”

She was about to explain herself, when she stopped. He was looking so pleased with himself at the thought of a flirtation that she didn't have the heart to disillusion him. “I'll dance.”

She followed him into the pavilion. No one would
ever recognize her, she reminded herself. Her distinctive red hair was now a lavender-white, the half mask covered enough of her face and the domino took care of the rest. She could trip anyone, send them sprawling, and no one would ever be able to attribute it to her.

Indeed, she could use it as an excuse to kick several people she'd long considered deserving of a swift kick.

The melody was an old favorite, “Tom Scarlett,” and Sir Percy drew her into it before she could hesitate, and for a moment she froze as the other dancers made their prescribed moves around her.

And then the music caught her again. One foot started tapping, then she moved the other foot forward, and suddenly the dance took over, and she was moving, dancing, her body alive with delight, her feet sure as she followed the intricate figures.

She would have left the floor once it was done, but the next was a slower, statelier dance, and she couldn't resist, twirling around Sir Percy, around her contrary, around her neighbor, never missing a step. The music sped up, growing livelier, and she moved faster, throwing back her head and laughing with the joy of it. As they performed a figure of eight she passed by Lina, and she didn't need to see her face behind the full mask to know she was mouthing “I told you so” as they went.

She was breathless, laughing when the song
finished, and clearly Sir Percy, who was sadly stout, had grown winded, but young Marchmont, a stripling no more than seventeen, all arms and legs and wild enthusiasm, grabbed her, and she was dancing again, a more complicated set, and one she followed with amazing aplomb. It was the first time she'd been able to smile in three weeks—her body felt strong, glorious, as she swirled through the wonderful music.

Lina's new partner was an elderly military gentleman, and they'd joined a different set. Charlotte glanced toward her as she stepped into a poussette, changing partners as she moved toward the outward wall. Lina's face was still covered, but she was gesturing strangely, her hands moving in a panicked figure that had nothing to do with the dance. Charlotte mouthed “what” back at her, but the dance made another turn, and she switched partners to dance with a spotty young man in his twenties, who was almost as clumsy as she once had been.

Her heart melted for the poor boy, who seemed so earnest, and she whispered instructions in his ear every time they did a pass, and eventually he gave her a broad smile as he caught on to the complicated figure.

And then another poussette, and she took the hand of her new partner as she twirled around him. It was God's mercy that the touch called for in the dance was only momentary, because she'd crossed to the
other side, curtsying, before she realized she was facing Adrian Rohan.

She almost stumbled in shock, but something kept her moving. She saw Lina in the background, having taken off her mask, and her beautiful face was creased in dismay. Clearly she'd been trying to warn her.

Bloody hell, Charlotte thought a little wildly. He couldn't recognize her, and she was having a wonderful time. She wasn't going to let his unexpected appearance stop her. There were only three more figures with her current partner, and then they'd move on to the next one, and the moment the dance was ended, Lina was waiting to whisk her away. But oh, merciful heavens, it was a Mad Robin, which called for the current partners to maintain eye contact while they slid in front and behind their neighbors.

Her glasses had never reappeared, and in the best of worlds it would leave her unable to see him very well. But in truth, she had only needed them to read, and she could see into his gorgeous blue eyes quite clearly. They were watching her, no discernible expression in them, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was just a stranger on a dance floor, someone to pass by as the figures called for it. Even if she was taller than most women she was hardly singular. He wouldn't notice. He had no particular interest in her, and he most certainly didn't recognize her.

She moved back into place, dropping her eyes.
One more step, and it was the Gipsy. The two of them would meet in the center, circling each other, and it put her uncomfortably in mind of predator and prey.

He didn't know her, she reminded herself, moving carefully as he seemed to stalk her. He danced beautifully, she remembered now, which was probably the reason she'd made such a botch of it the one other time she'd danced with him. She'd already been enamored of him and feeling undignified and silly about it, and his grace on the dance floor had paralyzed her.

This time she was prepared. She knew he was irresistible, moving with catlike grace on the dance floor and off. She glanced at his mouth, unable to stop herself, remembering the feel of it against hers, remembering the feel of his entire body pressed up against hers, skin to skin, warm and moist, muscles taut and straining, hearts pounding…

Her face was flushed, her breath coming fast, and she knew it wasn't because of the dance. She held out her hands, crossed, for the final hand-off, and even through two pairs of gloves she could feel his skin, his strength—feel
him
—and suddenly she wanted to cry.

And then he was gone, and she was going through the same movements with a plump, middle-aged gentleman, and she'd survived. She hadn't tripped, hadn't
betrayed herself in any way, and Adrian Rohan hadn't even looked back.

She was almost back with Marchmont, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Once she regained her original partner the dance would be over, and she could escape. She wanted to laugh out loud in triumph, she wanted to burst into tears. Her emotions were way too close to the surface, not like her at all. There was one more right to left, as they circled the dance floor, exchanging hands. It would bring her back to Rohan one more time, but he was looking bored, and his partner, a sweet young beauty, was going to lose him once the dance was over, and she told herself she shouldn't be glad of it.

She slid, turned and began the right to left, acutely aware of his approach. His gloved hand touched hers for a brief moment, strong hands, warm hands, and then he moved on, never even looking at her, and Marchmont was back, smiling.

Before he could draw her into another dance, Lina had caught up with her. She'd put her mask back on, but her distress was more than clear. “I'm so sorry, dearest,” she said in a muffled voice. “Of all the miserable chances! I couldn't believe it when I saw him here. And to end up in your set! Do you think he recognized you?”

“Absolutely not,” she said in a calm, sure voice. “But just in case, don't you think we should leave now?”

“I do indeed. We'll have to find out where Sir Percy went. He's probably in one of the card rooms. He loves to dance, but there's only so long he can keep it up.”

Charlotte pulled her hand free. She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder, but there was no sign of the viscount. His erstwhile partner was now flirting with someone new, surviving his abandonment better than she herself had, Charlotte thought. “Lina, I think it best if I go ahead. It's a short walk to the edge of the park, and there are plenty of chairs and hackneys to convey me back to Grosvenor Square. You find Sir Percy and I'll meet you at home.”

“I can't leave you alone in a place like this,” Lina protested.

“Of course you can. No one's going to mistake me for a trollop, and I can promise you, no one would dare accost me.”

“No one might dare accost Charlotte Spenser with her glower,” Lina said, “but the mystery woman in the deep red domino who danced so happily is a different matter.”

“Don't worry—I can still glower with the best of them. Truly, Lina, the sooner I leave here the better, and you can't very well abandon Sir Percy, now, can you?”