Apparently, it didn’t matter that he’d left the philandering, racing, and drinking behind him. After one innocent dinner they were feeding the gossips again.
“Are you all right?” Cal asked, sipping his coffee.
“Aye. The rags got wind of Lady Charlotte’s return tae society, and dinner the other night. They’re already pairing us in the gossip columns. A small notice today, but we both know that won’ last.”
“Just like old times,” Cal murmured. “So what’s your plan?”
“I could woo the girl tae show the ton I was wrong about her appeal. This Paper Doll Princess nonsense will persist if we don’ do something. I apologized, but I can’t help wondering what else I can do.”
“Or you could run away to the country and focus on the brewery.”
“There’s nothing saying I can’t help make things right while I’m in Town finding a brewmaster, aye? If I can find one. The two gentlemen I spoke with yesterday with experience weren’t keen on leaving London.” Ethan picked up the newssheet to reread the short column. Lady Charlotte had tried so hard to minimize the gossip at the Bartlebys’, and they’d still landed in the paper. “Could you do me a favor? Send a footman next door tae Lady Agatha’s, and find out if our neighbors will be at an event this evening.”
Servants knew everything, and anyone who thought differently wasn’t connected to reality. Maybe talking to Lady Charlotte would shed some light on how he could help make this right. Their names being in the paper was proof that the damage he’d done years ago lingered.
Later that night, Ethan found a seat at a musicale. The delicate chair squeaked under him and he froze until he felt confident the spindly legs weren’t going to break.
Two rows away, Lady Agatha loomed tall and regal in silk and black lace, with a black ostrich feather bobbing from her pale silver hair. Beside Lady Agatha, Lottie acknowledged him with a cool nod before facing the front of the room.
The olive-toned column of her neck distracted him throughout the performance, although she didn’t look back again.
The gathering wasn’t elaborate. A soprano of moderate talent finished warbling something in Italian, then curtsied to mild applause from the small audience. Their hostess rose, signaling an intermission.
Calvin had other plans this evening, so Ethan was on his own in this crowd. Whatever they were up to, Cal and Adam “the Puppy” Hardwick were probably having a grand time.
During moments such as this, standing a head above the others in the room, Ethan was aware of how alone he was in London. Sure, there were friendly nods with inquiring smiles, but no one stepped forward to converse beyond an offhand greeting.
After eight years in society, he had yet to figure out how to be one of them. The rougher crowd from his younger days would accept him into their fold again, without a doubt. One of them invited him out each time he stayed in London for more than a day or two. But the man they wanted to carouse with and the man he chose to be these days were not the same.
He rolled his shoulders and ignored the curious looks his presence drew. Evening coats never fit comfortably, even when made by a reputable tailor. They hugged him until he felt constricted instead of fashionable, and collar points were so high as to be ridiculous. Properly tied cravats were an exercise in slowly choking to death. He fought the urge to tug at the length of linen for the umpteenth time as he scanned the room for Lady Charlotte. She’d vanished. Taking a cup of no doubt watered-down punch from a nearby footman, Ethan sought out the closest source of fresh air.
Beyond the double doors at the far end of the great hall, he found a balcony, which was not empty as he’d hoped. It was hard to complain, though, because there she was—stunning in an emerald gown. The moonlight and lamps created patches on her dress, illuminating the skin above the deep neckline he’d noticed and kept noticing since the evening’s first aria. When she turned away from the house to lean on the balustrade, those lights cast her face in shadow.
Lady Charlotte hadn’t done anything but stand on a balcony, seemingly in want of the same fresh air he desired, but his skin prickled with awareness. The silky gown slithering over her body was temptation itself, akin to the foliage covering Eve in the Garden of Eden. He’d never related to a serpent so much in his life. Much like the snake and Eve, Ethan wasn’t worthy of her. But he couldn’t deny he craved her attention anyway.
The door closed behind him with a low snick. Lady Charlotte snapped from her relaxed pose against the stone railing and whirled to face him. When Ethan stepped farther onto the balcony, her posture relaxed infinitesimally and he nearly smiled. Perhaps his presence wouldn’t drive her away after all.
At a loss for words, he took a drink of the punch and nearly spit it out.
She settled against the balustrade, crossing her arms in front of her. “Not to your liking?”
Setting the glass aside on a windowsill, he wrinkled his nose. “’Tis three-quarters brandy, and the rest tastes like piss. Pardon my language, Lady Charlotte.” God, she’d think him a crass idiot. And she’d be correct. “I don’ drink strong spirits. Haven’ for years.” This bloody cravat grew tighter by the second. Running a finger between his throat and the linen, he pulled just enough to loosen the knot a tad.
Lady Charlotte shot him a glance but did not say anything for a long moment. “I suppose one of us should go in. There will be talk otherwise.”
“I assume you’ve seen the papers.” Ethan took a step closer until her citrus scent filled his head. “Thank you, by the
