The Baron Next Door (Prelude to a Kiss) (20 page)

When she straightened, Charity’s eyes immediately found his once more. Her smile radiated, triumphant and joyful, and he grinned broadly in return. The master of ceremonies emerged onto the stage, breaking the moment.

Hugh slipped away then, ducking into the entry hall and heading for the door. His head was lifted, his shoulders square as pride unfurled within him. She had been brilliant. Beautiful to watch and incredible to listen to.

He already knew it was a very bad idea to come, had known it from the beginning, in fact, but, damn it all, it was worth it. To support her in the one thing he had been able to help make happen for her. There was a bit of selfish pride in that, too. Without their talk, without the kiss that had moved him in ways he’d no longer thought possible, he never would have been able to do this for her.

It was fitting that he would be leaving her on that note. In a few hours, they would meet again, most likely for the last time. Anticipation for that moment drove his measured steps faster as his boots tapped smartly on the marble floor.

When he was only a handful of feet from the door, it swung inward and a man rushed inside, pausing to shake the moisture from his jacket. Apparently the rain had picked up. Damn, he didn’t want anything to get in the way of his agreed-upon meeting with Charity.

The newcomer pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his brown hair, which was pulled back at the nape of his neck. Hugh squinted his eyes. The man looked familiar. He handed his outerwear to the waiting footman and glanced to where Hugh stood.

“Sorry. Am I in— Wait a second,” he said, his light blue eyes lighting with recognition. “Danby, is that you?”

The voice more than the man’s appearance was what jogged Hugh’s memory. Deep and clear—and prone to singing, if Hugh remembered correctly. “Lord Evansleigh, I’ll be damned.”

“It’s been a long time since Harrow, but not so long that you can’t call me Evan. Heard you went off to the war a while back. Still in the army?”

Hugh gave a twitch of his head in the negative. “Sold my commission a few years back. Unfortunately, I’m no longer Danby, either. My brother, the rat bastard, decided to pass the baroncy to me sooner rather than later.”

Evan’s jovial expression fell a bit, and he shook his head. “Damn sorry to hear that. I’ve done a dreadful job of keeping up with current events this past year.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Family matters. Still, no excuse for missing the news of Ian’s passing. My sympathies.”

The lump that always appeared at talk of his brother rose in his throat. “Thank you. It’s been more than six months now, but I’m still not quite used to it.”

The genuine sadness on Evan’s face was a nice change. So many gave that momentary sympathetic look, then breezed right over the topic. Evan looked as though he actually understood the pain of losing someone so close. “Don’t know if one ever gets used to such a thing, I’m sorry to say. But we do move on and find ourselves at such places as music festivals in an until recently passé, landlocked city in the middle of a particularly hot summer.”

The wry humor Hugh remembered from their school days was still there. He smiled and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Perhaps the grief has impaired my judgment, but I have recently come to my senses and am heading home.”

“And I shall head straight into the fray with open arms,” Evan responded without a moment’s hesitation. “It was excellent seeing you again.”

“And you, sir. Hopefully we can find a minute to catch up over a drink or two.” Fishing in his pocket for the calling cards Felicity had had made for him, he handed it over. “Do feel free to call on me at your leisure.”

As Hugh headed into the rain, he thought of his brother and the life that had ended too soon. There were no guarantees for the time they had on this earth. As a soldier he had known that, but, then, he and his men had volunteered for that position. They’d done so for the greater good of their country, which at least made the deaths seem less senseless.

There was no such consolation with Ian. A simple meal of seafood—one of hundreds over his lifetime—and minutes later he was dead. An acute allergy, the doctor had said. One that had developed out of nowhere, and, just like that, all their lives had been turned upside down.

Hugh turned his head up to the rain, letting the cool water wash over his face. Lady Effington had said it earlier, and now his brother’s experience was cementing it in Hugh’s mind.

No regrets.
While he would never ruin Charity for the happy future she deserved, he intended to make the most of this night. For this one moment in time, she could be his. He’d be damned if he was going to waste what little time they had together.

H
appiness, joy, pride, exhilaration, relief, vindication—there simply weren’t enough words to describe the emotions pinging around inside of her. Charity squeezed the other girls tightly in an exuberant three-way hug as their laughter rose to the high ceiling of the otherwise empty ladies’ retiring room.

“Have I told you ladies that I love you? Because I most certainly do,” Sophie said, both cheeks dimpled with her enormous smile. “And you should be happy—I’ve said those words only to my sisters, up until this moment.” Her eyes darkened momentarily before she broadened her grin and squeezed each of their hands. “We shall be unstoppable now.”

May nodded, her blue eyes as bright as sapphires despite the dim light. “Indeed. For the first time in months, I actually am glad for my father abandoning me in this country.”

“Me, too,” Charity agreed, her cheeks aching from the grin that hadn’t left since the moment they finished the recital. “Remind me to thank him for having such forethought.”

May’s laugh was rueful. “I’ll be sure to do that. I must admit,” she said, dropping Sophie’s hand and linking arms with Charity, “you had me a bit worried.”

“Only a bit?” Sophie interjected, raising her eyebrows. “I thought she might have a fit of vapors right there on the stage. But you fooled us both. One moment you were a quivering mess, and the next you were the consummate professional, cool and collected as a cucumber. Well, cool as a cucumber; I don’t think they are all that collected.”

Warmth bloomed in Charity’s chest as she bit her lip and shrugged. “Let’s just say I realized there were those in the audience who wished nothing but the best for me. For us.”

She still couldn’t believe he had actually come. Knowing how much he had risked to be there, she couldn’t help but adore him for it. The way he had looked at her tonight . . . She swallowed, savoring the sparkling sensation shimmering through her belly.

That look had been special. Not quite the expression that had prompted her to call off her betrothal last year, but it had potential. Lots of it.

May disengaged their arms and leaned back, squinting her eyes as she inspected Charity’s face. “Mmhmm. There was one particular audience member who looked
especially
supportive.”

There was no stopping the blush, and Charity didn’t even try. “You saw him?”

“Of course! He was sitting front and center beside your grandmother—how could I have missed him?”

Sitting beside her grandmother? Who was May talking about?

Before she could think of something to say, Sophie giggled. “Impossible to miss him, if you ask me. He was like a mountain among men, though an exceedingly well-dressed mountain. You could just see how proud he was of us. Or you, rather. I’m sure he barely noticed May and me.” She winked as she nudged May playfully.

Dering?
Charity hadn’t thought of him one bit since the drive here. Guilt dulled the fizziness a bit. He had done so much for her, and she had somehow completely missed his not inconsiderable presence directly in front of her. “I’m certain he was enjoying the performance, per his hard work to ensure it happened.”

“Oh yes, clearly,” May said, giving a lighthearted roll of her eyes. “Are you trying to say you’ve not yet decided what to do about the viscount’s attentions?”

Charity grabbed the statement like a lifeline. “Yes, exactly. Now, come. We must get back to the recital before people think we are poor sports for not listening to the other performers.”

With one last group hug, they exited the retiring room and headed down the corridor leading to the Ballroom. String music filtered in from the hall, and Charity’s ears picked out the distinct tones of two violins and a cello, all played with perfectly adequate skill. As they rounded the corner, Charity noticed a large figure leaning against the wall, facing in their direction. Dering’s handsome face lit with an easy smile as their gazes met.

Of course. She seemed destined to be unprepared for everything this evening. Offering a polite smile, she slowed as she approached. “Good evening,” she said in a low murmur, not wanting to disturb any of the audience members seated close to the doorway.

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, holding his hand out to her. She obliged, and he pressed a perfectly proper kiss to the back of her gloved hands. He gave her fingers a little squeeze before releasing them and turning to the other girls. “Miss Bradford, Miss Wembley, a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you,” May replied, while Sophie smiled her acknowledgment. “Charity, would you excuse us for a moment? I believe I left something in the retiring room.”

Without waiting for Charity’s reply—one that would have attempted to keep them by her side—the pair of them spun on their heels and padded back in the direction from which they had just come.

Blast.
With nothing else to do, she turned her attention back to the viscount. He truly was handsome, despite his well-over-six-foot frame. Or, as many seemed to think, because of it. He was a presence to be reckoned with. On another man, such broad shoulders may have seemed intimidating. For her, there was a certain protectiveness about him. He was a good man, even if it was taking her a while to adjust to his sudden interest.

She offered him a small smile. “I hope you enjoyed our performance. After your kindness, we especially wanted to do well.”

Not a lock of his black hair dared to move as he nodded. “Without exaggeration, it was one of the finest performances I have ever had the pleasure to sit through. Very unique. Unexpected, but still quite elegant.” He lowered his face closer to hers and said, “Just like you.”

His warm breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck, and despite herself, she shivered. It was an exceedingly fine compliment. No one had ever called her elegant or unique, and certainly not both. This was a man who truly appreciated her, and, judging by the unconcealed admiration in his eyes, in more ways than one.

She relaxed a little, giving a small shrug. “You are entirely too generous. And I mean that. Without you, we would have been relegated to the audience tonight.” The conversation in the carriage earlier came back then, and she bit her lip, not sure how to ask the question on her mind.

“Yes?” he prompted, raising his eyebrows.

Well, he certainly was perceptive. Clasping her hands in front of her, she said, “I was just curious. How, exactly, did you find out about the committee, after all?”

He shrugged, unperturbed. “Don’t recall the exact details. A conversation with your neighbor led to a discussion of the committee’s decision.”

Something inside her shifted, upsetting the balance she strove for. Hugh had indeed been the one to talk about her. How much had he revealed? An unsettling sense of betrayal unfolded deep inside her. “It’s a wonder my ears weren’t ringing. You two must have had quite the discussion. I wonder, though—how did you come to the conclusion to help?”

At this, his muscles relaxed, and he smiled a sweet, reassuring grin. “For you, my dear Charity, I would happily move mountains, let alone the hearts of wayward committee members.”

“So it was your idea? To act on my behalf, I mean?” She tried to hide her earnestness, but his answer to this question in particular was important to her.

He tilted his head to the side. “But of course,” he said, his confusion clearly marking his surprise that she would think otherwise. “I couldn’t let you suffer on the whim of one stodgy old committee member.”

So there it was. Hugh had gossiped, and Dering had reacted with kindness and honor. As thankful as she was to him, she was equally, if not more, hurt by Hugh’s indiscretion. After the way the
ton
had treated her, she had learned to treasure privacy. She never would have shared such a private part of herself with him if he hadn’t opened up to her. She thought she could trust him, but clearly she was wrong.

Her laugh was slightly bitter. “Lord Cadgwith must have been properly horrified about encountering my less than sophisticated state that day.”

Dering chuckled, clearly thinking he was laughing with her. “Oh yes—I heard all about the tears. Some men are intimidated by such a thing. I see it as an opportunity to play the hero.” He winked, obviously poking a little fun at himself.

The betrayal of her confidence was beyond upsetting. It was absolutely unacceptable. Why had he come here tonight, anyway? Why did he have to make her feel as though she was the most important woman in the world one minute, and a silly fool the next?

She was tempted to leave him waiting tonight, just as he had once done to her. To simply not show up and let that speak as to how important he was to her. But as much as she would love such a statement, she knew she wouldn’t follow through. Not when so much of her wanted to see him, ached for it, in fact.

Drawing a breath, she looked up to meet Dering’s dark gaze. He was the real hero in this. She reached out and placed her hand atop the deep gray velvet of his jacket. “You do play it so well, my lord. Thank you for the kindness. I certainly hope I can return it someday.”

He covered her hand with his, the heat radiating from his palm through both their gloves. “As do I.”

Her heart gave an unexpected flutter at the earnestness she saw in his eyes. Tomorrow—she could think on this tomorrow. Tonight she would deal with her neighbor.

*   *   *

It seemed to take hours for them to make it home that evening. Between the performances that ran long, the traffic, and the rain, it felt as though everything was conspiring against her and her plans. When at last they pulled to a stop in front of their rental home, Charity fairly bounded from the carriage and into the house.

It was well past one in the morning, and the house was dark and quiet. She’d donned her simplest gown, and thankfully had actually been able to get it buttoned up, despite her lack of stays. She tiptoed her way to the music room, relieved that they had such a small staff. Rain tapped at the windows, dampening her spirits along with the soggy night.

She set her candle on the pianoforte and hurried to the windows, her slippered feet silent on the wood floor. Holding her breath, she pulled aside the curtain and peered into the night. There must have been a full moon behind the thick layer of clouds, because pale shimmery light offered at least some illumination. She scanned his part of the balcony.

Nothing.

Blast.
Had the rain driven him away? Had he given up waiting as she bided her time for the house to settle down? Or had he simply never bothered to show up, like last time? She bit down on her cheek, her brow beetling. No, he didn’t get to stand her up this time. They had an agreed-on time and place, and, by Jove, she had the right to give him a piece of her mind after what she discovered from Dering.

Indignation rose inside her, and she glanced about the room, looking for something small, hard, and movable. Her eyes landed on the handful of coins she had collected the day Hugh had used them to get her attention. Well, turnabout was fair play, was it not?

Snatching them from the window ledge where she’d laid them out, she marched to the door, yanked it open, and stepped out into the rain. She squinted as fat drops landed on her cheeks and forehead, and quickly selected a coin. The windows of his bedchambers were as black as ink, with no sign of him being awake. Rubbing water from her eyes, she lobbed the guinea at the nearest pane.

It clattered off the damp glass with enough noise to make her cringe before falling harmlessly to the ground. She held her breath and waited, listening for any sound besides the shushing of the falling rain, and looking for any signs of movement from within.

Nothing.

She threw another coin and then another, over and over until she’d exhausted her supply. By then, the front of her gown was soaked and cool droplets were flowing freely down her scalp. Blast him. Why was he doing this to her again? Why had he shown up tonight, looking so handsome she could hardly breathe, and watched her as though she was the only person in the entire room? Why did he want to toy with her like that?

Just as he had toyed with her when he’d divulged her private conversation to Dering.

She clenched her jaw, trying to force back the hurt. Had she just imagined their connection the past few times they had encountered each other? Heaven knew she hadn’t imagined their kiss, but had she been alone in thinking the walls between them had started to come down? That was the worst of it: believing they shared something meaningful, only to discover he held no such conviction.

Her hands went to her hips as she glared at his unmoving curtains. They had a meeting, damn it all, and she intended to keep it. She was already drenched, angry, and considerably poorer than she was before she’d stepped outside. What was one more sin against propriety?

Taking a deep breath, she tied her skirts into a knot at the bottom, grasped the divider with both hands, and scaled it in one less than graceful move. She may be mad—absolutely, completely mad—but she was committed now. Reaching out, she grasped the doorknob, gave it a twist, and pushed open the door.