His Mistress by Morning (25 page)

Oh, that did it. The lady was mad. He was going to speak to his mother about Hermione and Viola’s continued association with this Miss Wilmont.

“A blue one,” she added, as if only to pique him further.

“The one at Madame Claudius’s shop!” Hermione said, sounding all too enthused. “I do believe it will fit you perfectly, Charlotte.”

“She is not going to sell those gems,” Sebastian said. “It isn’t sensible.”

Miss Wilmont set her shoulders and faced him, and for
a moment Sebastian had to wonder if the earl didn’t have the right of it. This woman was about to be his undoing.

Luckily for him, Rockhurst stepped between them, almost like an able second.

But for which side, Sebastian was unsure.

“Miss Wilmont,” the earl said, “I do think what Lord Trent is saying is that they would look better on you than in the window of a pawnshop.”

“I meant no such thing!” Sebastian declared.

“Then you prefer the blue dress?” Hermione posed, a vexing little smile perched on her lips.

Sebastian ground his teeth. He didn’t know what was worse…the notion of Miss Wilmont selling her family gems like some common lightskirt or the possibility that she might look quite fetching in a blue gown.

“Perhaps,” Rockhurst began, “there is a better solution to this dilemma. I’ll buy your diamonds, Miss Wilmont.”

“You-u-u?” Sebastian sputtered. This was going from scandalous to outright ruinous. And demmit if Miss Wilmont didn’t look the least bit surprised by Rockhurst’s generosity. “If this were to get out, why, the scandal—”

“You are too kind, my lord,” she said, stepping around Sebastian as if he were now but a minor impediment to her ridiculous plans.

“I think it for the best,” the rakish earl was telling her. “If I buy them, then your sale can be kept between ourselves and there will be no need for the unseemly gossip that Lord Trent fears might impugn your reputation.”

As the two struck their bargain, Sebastian alternated between vexation and disgust. Vexation at Rockhurst for riding in like the proverbial knight-errant and disgust at his sisters and Miss Wilmont for their dewy-eyed infatuation of the man.

After Charlotte handed over her inheritance to Rockhurst, Hermione declared them ready to go home, if only to fetch their mother so she could assist them in shopping for Charlotte.

“A new dress demands an occasion,” Rockhurst said. “And I have the perfect idea. Miss Wilmont, will you…and your friend, of course,” he added, bowing slightly to Hermione, “accompany me to the opera tonight? Why, just this morning, I had a note from Lord and Lady Gwynn that they would be unable to join my party tonight.”

Sebastian coughed. A likely story, indeed! “I don’t think—”

“She’d be delighted,” Hermione said, cutting him off. “As would I.”

“Well, we shall see,” Sebastian told her. “Mother may have a different opinion on this matter.” An invitation from Rockhurst? The earl’s black reputation bordered constantly on scandal, and no matron in her right mind would want her daughter connected to such a man.

He paused for a moment.
No matron in her right mind.
Oh, demmit, that ruled out his mother, for the countess could never be counted on to follow Society’s dictates.

“Bring your delightful mother as well,” Rockhurst said. “Unfortunately there won’t be room for you and Miss Burke, Trent. But you’ll have a grand view of us from their box.”

Something about the entire scenario seemed overly familiar to Sebastian.

And another niggling suspicion told him he wasn’t going to like it in the least.

From the moment Charlotte entered the Opera House on Lord Rockhurst’s arm, the
ton
’s fascination with Miss Burke ended.

Especially given the scandalous cut of Miss Wilmont’s blue velvet gown.

To Charlotte’s amazement, the dress at Madame Claudius’s shop was the same one Lottie had ordered. And the relieved modiste had been only too happy to sell the gown to her, confessing that the lady who’d consigned it had disappeared, her house on Little Titchfield street now empty.

Now only one question remained. Would the dress that had so inflamed her rakish lover conquer this Sebastian’s proper armor?

“You are causing quite a stir,” Rockhurst murmured after he had introduced Charlotte to Lord Pilsley in the next box and escorted her to her seat in the very front of his cozy box.

The very spot where she could be seen by all. Meanwhile, Hermione and her mother took their seats behind the earl, Lady Walbrook extolling his choice box and the fine view, while Hermione sat uncharacteristically mute.

“Why, no one will miss us,” Lady Walbrook declared.

“Oh, heavens, this will never do,” Charlotte said, realizing that eventually the gossip would arrive at Queen Street and Lady Wilmont would be less than pleased that Charlotte had gone out with Rockhurst without telling her.

“Mother isn’t going to like this,” she said under her breath.

“Your mother won’t approve of your newfound popularity?” Rockhurst said.

“She won’t be pleased when she finds out my invitation to the opera came from you.”

“You didn’t tell her I invited you?”

“Heavens no,” Charlotte shot back, once again her Lottie nature getting the better of her.

Rockhurst laughed loud and thoroughly, drawing even more attention to the box. “Miss Wilmont, you astound me.”

“I doubt that,” Charlotte said, glancing across the way to the Burkes’ box.

The earl shook his head. “No, there is something altogether unique about you. One moment you make me feel as if I’ve known you for years, and I have to remind myself that we’ve just met.”

Charlotte glanced at him, more than a little bit alarmed. Not the earl as well! He wasn’t supposed to remember! The last thing she needed was to be fending off his advances while trying to regain Sebastian’s heart.

Shooting another furtive glance toward the Burkes’ box, she did her best to quell her disappointment that it remained empty.

Demmit,
she thought, borrowing one of Lottie’s favorite curses,
when are they going to arrive?

“Miss Wilmont?” Rockhurst said softly.

“Um, yes,” she said, not really listening to him.

“Is there something, or rather someone, on the other side there who is of interest to you?”

Charlotte bit her lip and turned toward her host. “Oh, dear, was it that obvious?”

“Only to me,” he confided. “Let me guess—since the only box over there that is still empty belongs to Lord Burke, I have to guess that the subject of your sighs and looks of despair might be Lord Trent.”

“I’m sorry…it is just that—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said with an easy laugh. “I have a talent for not seeing what is right before my eyes.” He leaned toward her and whispered, “And I think your quarry has finally arrived.” He nodded ever-so-slightly toward the Burkes’ box, where Lord and Lady Burke were taking their seats, followed by their daughter and her escort, Lord Trent.

Charlotte drew a deep breath even as Sebastian’s gaze swept the room and locked with hers. She felt, rather than saw, his reaction—how his body tensed, his gaze devoured her.

Instantly she was Lottie again and Sebastian her eager lover, chomping at the bit for the entertainment to end so they could come together in a tangle of passion, of illicit love.

As the music played and the singers gave their plaintive performance, Charlotte spent more time watching Sebastian than the opera.

Remember,
she wished.
Remember what we were to each other.

And when the intermission arrived, she nearly leaped from her seat, in all eagerness to join the crowds in the hallway. To chance an encounter with Sebastian.

“Miss Wilmont,” Rockhurst said, a look of mock innocence on his handsome face. “Shall we take a turn?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Charlotte said as she spied Sebastian escorting Miss Burke out into the hallway.

“Come along then and let us bedevil your adversary,” he said.

“My wha-a-a-t?”

“Miss Burke.”

“Oh, I have nothing—” Charlotte began to protest, but
then she caught the mischievous light in Rockhurst’s eyes. “Well, perhaps a little.”

He laughed. “Poor Miss Burke,” he declared. “But then again I do so love seeing my aunt’s protégées getting a bit of a comeuppance. Let us see what we can do to further your cause.” They rose and turned, only to find Hermione standing at the ready, her eager face glowing up at the earl.

The earl paused and leaned over. “What is Sebastian’s sister’s name?” he whispered even as he shot the lady in question a dazzling smile.

“Lady Hermione,” Charlotte returned.

“Ah, yes,” the man said. “Lady Hermione, a turn about the hallway? Your mother appears quite engaged.”

And so she was, Lady Walbrook giving a theatrical critique to a poor, beleaguered Lord Pilsley.

“Yes, oh, absolutely,” Hermione replied. “Let’s go find that vexsome brother of mine and show him Charlotte’s new dress.”

Rockhurst laughed. “The poor man hasn’t a chance.”

At first, Charlotte could barely breathe in the crush of the hallway, but then as the crowd noticed first Rockhurst, and then the mysterious lady on his arm, they parted.

If she hadn’t spent a fortnight as Lottie Townsend, Charlotte would never have been able to endure such a gauntlet of curious glances and speculative whispers. Ladies and matrons, courtesans and debutantes, rakes and lords alike stared at her. Taking a cue from one of Finny’s lectures, she held her gaze straight and aloof and walked at the earl’s side as if she’d been out in society all her life.

“Dear heavens, Charlotte,” Hermione whispered, quite in her element with all the attention they were drawing. “I can’t wait to see Sebastian’s face.”

“Ah yes, and here he is,” Rockhurst said. “Let’s see how he approves of your new gown, Miss Wilmont.”

And just as quickly as their promenade had begun, it came to a hasty halt, like two lines drawn across a field for battle.

Rockhurst, Hermione, and Charlotte on one side, and Miss Burke and Sebastian on the other. Lord and Lady Burke brought up the rear like a pair of reinforcements.

“Rather like the field at Hastings, I have to imagine,” Rockhurst murmured.

Charlotte tipped back her shoulders and made good use of her bodice. “Yes, I can almost hear Miss Burke firing the first sally.”

“I wager we take them in the end.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Blue is your color, Miss Wilmont.”

Whatever Rockhurst said to Miss Wilmont to make her blush so prettily, Sebastian decided he didn’t like it.

Not in the least.

“Oh bother,” Miss Burke sighed. “There is that vulgar Miss Wilmont with Rockhurst. I suppose we must greet them, since your sister is with them.”

Sebastian hadn’t the least idea why Miss Burke sounded so put out, but her sentiment echoed his own.

He had no desire to be anywhere near Miss Wilmont.

This evening was a complete disaster as it was. Since the first moment he’d entered the Burkes’ box, he hadn’t
been able to keep his gaze off the vexsome spinster, now transformed into an astounding beauty.

How could a gown do such a thing? But it wasn’t just the blue velvet, for it seemed the lady had been lit within by a fiery light. And to his utter frustration, the rest of the
ton
had noticed as well.

In truth, the better question was, how had he not seen her before?

Greetings went all around, and Miss Burke stepped forward. “Miss Wilmont, such a lovely gown.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte replied.

Lavinia looked ready to open her mouth and make some further comment when there was a rustle of panic in the crowd around them, and suddenly everyone started rushing toward their boxes.

Rockhurst spied the trouble almost immediately. “The devil take him, here comes Battersby.”

Everyone groaned. Except, Sebastian noted, Miss Wilmont. He watched a calculating light rise in her eyes, and as it did, he couldn’t help but feel a niggle of trepidation, of impending disaster.

“Come Lavinia, Trent,” Lord Burke said. “Quickly. Before we spend the rest of the evening cornered by him.”

“Is it truly Lord Battersby?” Charlotte said, spinning around and rising up on her toes. “He’s still got his shares to sell?”

“Yes, yes,” Rockhurst said, trying to steer her and Hermione away. “He and those wretched shares are ruining the Season.”

To everyone’s horror, Charlotte freed herself from Rockhurst and spun around. “Lord Battersby! A moment, sir, if you can.”

“No, Charlotte,” Hermione said, catching her by the arm. “Everyone knows he’s desperate.”

“So am I,” she shot back, crossing the empty space. Before anyone could stop her, she was off. “Lord Battersby, if you please, a moment of your time.”

Sebastian, Rockhurst, and Lord Burke used a different turn of phrase—they all three swore. “Demmit.”

“I’ve got to stop her,” Sebastian said.

“I think it will take both of us,” Rockhurst replied, and they were hot on her heels.

“Lord Battersby,” Charlotte continued, “I must speak with you.”

The tall, thin man spun around, an expression of shock on his face. Most likely, this was the first time anyone had actually invited his company all Season.

“Excuse my forward nature,” she was saying, “but do you still have shares left in the
Agatha Skye
?”

“Shares? My shares?” Lord Battersby said, pulling off his spectacles and cleaning them quickly before hastily shoving them back on and blinking his owlish eyes at Miss Wilmont. “Is your father interested, Miss…Miss…”

“Wilmont,” she supplied. “No, my lord. I am.”

Battersby frowned, then caught sight of the earl and Sebastian. “Very funny, Rockhurst. Putting this poor girl up to me, getting my hopes up.” He glanced over at the viscount. “’Spect better of you, Trent. Always seemed an honorable sort.”

“It isn’t their doing, my lord,” Miss Wilmont told him. “I want to buy your shares.”

Sebastian groaned. First she’d sold her diamonds to Rockhurst and now she was making a complete scene by haranguing Battersby to sell his worthless shares to her,
and right in the middle of intermission with a more eager audience than the players could hope for.