"Well, aye, but this is a matter of my life. Do I not find a husband, I shall have to marry Carland and he would kill me. I must find a husband. I must have my equal turns."
"I see, so you are saying that you are only doing this because your life is more important than my pleasure?"
Charlie blinked in amazement that she would even ask the question.
"Well, aye, of course my life is more important than your pleasure!"
Beth nodded solemnly. "Yet your pleasure is less important than mine."
Charlie frowned. "How do you come to that conclusion?"
"That is what you have said. You are not letting me have my way this time because your life is at stake. You let me have my way with the dresses because it was simply a matter of taste. Yours versus mine. Mine was more important."
"You are twisting things," Charlie muttered impatiently.
"Am I? Then what of our birthday dinners?" "What are you talking about now?"
"Cook always asked what we would wish for our birthday dinner and I always chose roast duckling and blueberry torte."
"So?"
"You detest duck. And blueberries, while you like them, are not your favorite flavor of torte."
"Please get to your point, Beth."
"But that is my point. Had things been fair, we would have had roast duckling and blueberry toite one year and a meal of your choice the next. Or we would have had roast duckling and yourchoice of dessert one year, then your choice of meal and blueberry torte the next. But, nay, for the past several years, we had roast duckling and blueberry torte on our birthday."
Seeing that what she was saying was sinking in, Beth murmured, "You did things like that all the time, Charlie. You stood up for everyone from the village drunk to me. Everyone but yourself. And you always put others' wants before your own. Twas as if you thought everyone else was better than yourself. I bet that if Uncle Henry had arranged marriages between myself and Seguin and between you and someone similarly disgusting but harmless, you would have gone ahead and married the old coot."
Charlie grimaced but did not deny it.
"And I blame Uncle Henry."
She gave a laugh at that. "Something else to blame him for?"
Beth's chin rose. "Well, he was constantly criticizing you. He was forever calling you stupid and cheap and" Her shoulders slumped. "And 'twas all my fault," she finished miserably.
Charlie's head shot up. "Your fault? Good Lord, Beth!"
"Well, it was sometimes. The times he would start out picking at me for something and you would jump to my defense. He would turn his anger on you then and leave me alone." She sighed. "Mayhap had I returned the favor and defended you back, he may have left us both alone, but I" She raised stark eyes to her sister. "I was so afraid of his temper."
Charlie moved to her side at once, placing a comforting arm around her. "I know.
'Tis all right."
"Nay. 'Tis not. I am ashamed of myself. You werenot afraid."
"Of course I was."
Beth stilled at that, eyes wide and incredulous. "You were?"
"Of course. Uncle Henry has a terrible temper. I was terrified every time I faced him. So you see, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. I was afraid too."
"Oh, but this is worse," Beth breathed with dismay. "Do you not see? You were afraid like I was, but you stood up to him anyway. That is true courage, Charlie. While my allowing my fear to hold me back was cowardice."
"Beth." Charlie shook her impatiently. "Stop it. For heaven's sake. As if we do not have enough to worry about. Anyone with any sense would have kept their mouth shut and let his criticisms run their course, ignoring everything that man said. Now, why do you not go to your room and get some sleep?"
"I am in my room. Charles sleeps here and I am to be Charles tomorrow."
"I thought you might wish to be Elizabeth during the day, since I am going to be"
"Nay. I shall be Charles all day and night."
Chapter Thirteen
The Fetterleys' ballroom was filled to capacity with men and women all asparkle in their fineiy. It was also unbearably hot, and the fact that she had been dancing non-stop since arriving wasn't helping much, Charlie thought, fanning her face with one hand as she followed the steps of the dance.
"I did not realize that Radcliffe had any cousins. Lady Elizabeth."
Charlie glanced sharply at her dance partner. Lord Nor-Something-or-Other. She hadn't really caught the name. She hadn't caught the names of most of the men she had danced with this evening. But then, none of them had been all that memorable anyway. This one at least was taller than she was, had all his teeth, and hadn't stepped on her toes yet.
Actually, he was rather attractive too, she realized with some surprise, peering at his face for the first time since he had cut in on her dance with Lord Whoever. He had blue eyes, nice features, and light blond hair. He was also nearly as tall as Radcliffe, with shoulders almost as wide as his.
"Is there something on my nose?"
Realizing that she had been staring, Charlie flushed and dropped her gaze. "Nay, my lord," she murmured, her mind returning to the comment he had made.
"Do you know Lord Radcliffe well?" she asked cautiously after a moment.
"As well as anyone, I would wager. His sister was married to my brother."
"Mary." She whispered the name sadly, then tilted her head to look at her dance partner. "You met B-Charles at Radcliffe's club," she recalled Beth telling her.
"Aye. A charming lad. Though not as charming as his sister."
Flushing at the compliment, she glanced away, wondering how she was to feel him out to see if he was possible husband material. He was the first likely candidate she had met so far. The fact that he was tall, confident, attractive, and a good dancer already put him far above the other men she had met that night. And he came from a good family. It had to be good if Radcliffe had let his sister many into it. "Are you married?"
"Considering me as husband material, my lady?" he teased.
Charlie flushed, but managed an unconcerned shrug. "Is that not what these balls are all about?"
"Aye. But usually the ladies are more subtle about it. I am single," he added gently, then teased, "No diseases that I know of and quite capable of producing heirs." Charlie flushed again and he laughed softly. "How charming you are.
Blunt and to the point, yet you blush deliciously. Does that blush go all the way down, I wonder?"
When her eyes went round and she stumbled slightly, he pulled her against his chest to steady her, his hand sliding to the base of her spine and applying gentle pressure.
Charlie swallowed, confused by her responses as his body caressed hers through their clothes. There was the excitement she had experienced with Radcliffe, and yet it was different. With Radcliffe it had been pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Her heart had leapt and she had followed it, reveling in the sensations.
With this man there was an edge to the excitement. Where she trusted Radcliffe not to hurt her, she instinctively knew this man did not worry overmuch about any consequences. He could ruin a woman without regret. Radcliffe would never do so.
His sense of right and wrong was too strong.
"Does the blush go all the way down?" he whispered seductively in her ear, and Charlie swallowed as a shiver convulsed her.
Feeling out of her depth, she cast her eyes about in search of Bethand Radcliffe. Her gaze was halfway around the room when she caught a glimpse of a man that made her stumble again, hard. Ralphy! "Are you all right?" he murmured with concern, steadying her.
"I Nay." She managed an apologetic smile. "I fear I have overdone the dancing, my lord. Would you mind terribly if I cried off the rest of this dance?"
"I am shattered. But I should not wish you to faint from overexertion," he murmured gallantly. Taking her arm, he led her off the floor, his gaze sweeping over the ice blue gown she wore with its needlelace trim and silk-lined sashes in a darker blue. "I noticed you had not sat out a single dance since arriving.
Mayhap a cool beverage would revive you," he suggested solicitously as he saw her seated in one of the few empty chairs lining the wall. "Shall I fetch you one?"
"Please," Charlie murmured, her gaze drifting around the room as soon as he moved away. She wasn't sure, but she thought Ralphy had seen her and might approach her now that she was alone.
"There you are!" Beth appeared before her suddenly in the new fawn breeches and coat that had arrived that afternoon. "You are a difficult one to keep track of."
Charlie nearly smiled at that complaint. She knew Beth had known exactly where she was all evening, but had been misdirecting Radcliffe as promised.
Tom had made her job easier by not showing up to need distracting.
"We saw you dancing with Norwich." Radcliffe's disapproval was obvious.
"Norwich?" It took her a moment to realize that he meant her dance partner. "Oh, aye. The heat was affecting me adversely so he went to fetch me a beverage."
"It was more likely the fact that he was holding you too damn close that was affecting you adversely," Radcliffe snapped, then forced a smile. "Come. I think some fresh air may do more to revive you than a beverage and his presence."
"Oh, but" she began, grimacing when he raised an eyebrow at her in question.
"Well, I really would like a drink. Besides, is it not rude to just disappear on him?"
"I shall fetch you a drink in a moment," he promised, urging her toward the doors to the terrace. "As for being rude, it was rude of him to hold you so closely on the dance floor."
"Still, Radcliffe, it does seem unconscionably ill-mannered to simply leave like this," Beth murmured, following them.
"Then, Charles, you should probably stay behind to explain that Elizabeth was feeling faint, needed some air, and is now in my care."
Beth's eyes widened, her footsteps faltering. "Oh, but"
Whatever she wanted to say was lost to them as Radcliffe drew Charlie onto the terrace and closed the doors with a decided snap.
"Self-absorbed, spoiled little whelp," he muttered, leading her to the railing that ran the length of the terrace.
"Are we still talking about Norwich?" Charlie asked with amusement. She had never seen Radcliffe so upset. He was acting almost jealous.
"He should not have risked subjecting you to possible scandal that way."
"Scandal! We were not dancing that closely," Charlie argued with exasperation.
"Had the two of you been unclothed, you would have been making love."
"But I do not love him, and we were not unclothed, and we were no closer than this." The last came out a bit breathlessly as she realized how close they were.
They had gravitated toward each other with each word they had spoken.
Now she smiled at him, unaware of the hunger in her eyes or the seductive quality of her voice as she murmured, "Does that mean if we were unclothed, we would be making love?"
"Elizabeth." Her name was a groan on his lips as he took her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up frustration he had experienced that evening as he had watched her flit from the armsof one man to another.
Charlie melted in his arms like chocolate over the fire. Her arms slid up around his neck, her hands gliding into his hair, her lips opening hungrily beneath his. It was hot, sweet, and over quickly. It seemed to her that it had just begun and he was gently setting her away with a groan.
Charlie opened her eyes slowly, disappointment and hunger plain in her eyes.
Seeing it, Radcliffe released a pent-up sigh, then offered her a regretful smile. "Perhaps I should fetch you that punch now," he murmured huskily, then moved away, slipping through the partially open doors they had come through moments earlier.
Charlie watched him go with a sigh of her own. Her body was humming, desire thrumming through her veins like a living thing. She could still taste him on her lips, she realized unhappily as she stared blindly at the dancers swirling by the doors. In comparison, Norwich's effect on her when he had pressed her close on the dance floor had been rather tepid.
Groaning inwardly, she turned away from the windows, only to pause as a movement from the shadows caught her eye. She was tensing in anxiety when a figure suddenly moved into the light from the terrace doors.
"Tomas!" she greeted him with a strangled voice, her eyes shifting instinctively toward the door that Radcliffe had just stepped through. The door that had been open when they'd stopped kissing, but that he had closed behind them when they'd come out. How long had he been standing there watching them?
A hard grasp on her upper arm drew her gaze reluctantly around to see that he now stood before her. And he was furious.
"You did not mention that you and Radcliffe were kissing cousins."
"I he was just" she stammered, her mind searching for and discarding explanation after explanation. Not that Tomas seemed in the mood to listen anyway, she decided with a sigh as he drew her closer in a mockery of an embrace.
"Or is it just that you share your kisses with everyone?"
"Now, Tomas," Charlie tried a soothing tone as she pressed her palms flat against his chest, attempting to ease some space between them. He was neither willing to be soothed nor held at bay. A growl of what Charlie presumed was strangled rage sounded from his throat then his head suddenly swooped down to cover her lips with his own.
Charlie was too stunned to react at first, and then she was too disappointed.
She felt absolutely nothing. His lips were firm and warm and moved across her own with obvious skill, and yet he might as well have kissed a post for all the response he managed to wring from her. The contrast between her lack of response to him and her weak-kneed, fluttery-tummy response to Radcliffe was terrifying to her. What if Radcliffe was the only one who could stir her in that way?