It had only taken a few questions here and there to form an opinion on Lord Palmer, who was younger than James by several years. Those he’d asked hadn’t provided a favorable impression. Far from it.
Charles Lowery, Viscount Palmer, was a rogue of the worst sort. One who focused solely on his own pleasures. It didn’t sound as if it mattered who he hurt in the process.
One story suggested he’d cheated at cards and won a significant amount though no one had proof. Another told of his aunt who died under mysterious circumstances, leaving Palmer a tidy sum. The last one had been the sorry tale of a young lady who’d been ruined by the cad. Why someone hadn’t called Palmer out for not proposing was beyond James.
Those rumors were made worse by the fact that Lady Charlotte was somehow involved with him. James might not understand the protectiveness he felt toward her, but he had to act on it. The alternative was to share what he’d learned with her brother. He’d prefer not to do that unless necessary as he was certain Edward wouldn’t be pleased.
As far as James was concerned, where there was smoke, there was fire. How could a rakehell like Palmer move about in Society without being taken to task for his behavior?
As James made his way toward Lady Charlotte, he was struck once again by her beauty. This evening, she wore a pale lavender gown that turned her blue-green eyes violet. Her honey tresses were gathered in a loose chignon with several strands left free to frame her face. Her head tilted as she watched him as if she were puzzled by his determined approach.
She’d learned the reason behind his presence soon enough.
“Good evening, Lady Charlotte.” He forced himself to bow and then turned to her companion. Social pleasantries were one thing he hadn’t missed while he’d been abroad. There was no need for such niceties on the battlefield. When he had something on his mind, taking the time to be polite seemed ridiculous. He’d prefer to come straight to the point.
The lady standing beside Charlotte stared at him with great interest though a certain coolness gleamed in her eyes that suggested she kept people at arm’s length.
“Viscount Redmond. What a surprise.” Charlotte turned to her companion. “Margaret, this is James Crosby, Viscount Redmond, a friend of my brother’s.” She looked back at James. “Miss Margaret Gold.”
“How do you do, my lord?” Margaret curtsied.
“Well and you?” he asked, his gaze immediately returning to Charlotte.
“Quite well. Thank you.” The amusement in Miss Gold’s tone made James realize his mistake of not waiting for her response before focusing on Charlotte.
He blinked and looked back at Miss Gold. “I’m pleased to hear that.”
She nodded, her amused smile remaining in place. At least she didn’t have dimples that threatened to distract him.
“I would like a private word with you,” he advised Charlotte, not phrasing it as a question, because it wasn’t. He needed to speak with her as soon as possible.
Charlotte’s eyes widened then she glanced about. “I don’t believe privacy is possible here.”
He gritted his teeth. Of course, they couldn’t have a private word in the middle of a ballroom. But he didn’t dare wait until he next called on Edward with the hope he’d see her. James wanted to warn her before she took another misstep and something disastrous occurred.
“Perhaps the two of you might dance?” Miss Gold lifted a brow as if surprised they hadn’t thought of the solution themselves. “That could provide an opportunity.”
James latched onto the idea without hesitation. The situation had him so rattled he wasn’t thinking clearly. “May I have the honor of the next dance?” he asked Charlotte.
“How kind of you.” Charlotte appeared as amused as her friend.
He offered his elbow, and they walked toward the dance floor, leaving Miss Gold with her sister who’d been standing nearby.
“I must say I’m surprised to see you here,” Charlotte whispered, her voice low. “I don’t believe you’ve attended any events since your return. Why is that?”
“I’m here to speak with you.”
“How flattering.” The doubt in her tone was unmistakable.
He gave himself a mental shake. No doubt he was coming across like a boorish oaf. “Forgive me. It has been some time since I’ve been among those in the polite world. My manners are rusty.”
“What is so urgent that you are risking life and limb by coming to a ball?”
James glanced about, all too aware of the interested looks from those around them. He’d nearly forgotten how crowded a ballroom could be. The realization was enough to cause him to break out into a cold sweat. Crowds made him incredibly uncomfortable. “I’ll explain when we have a moment alone.”
The current dance ended, and they took their place on the floor with James quelling his panic as he realized the upcoming dance would be a Scottish reel. He searched his memory for the proper steps only to find it blank. It was a dance, he chided himself. How difficult could this be?
He drew a breath to ease the pounding of his heart then followed the movements of the gentlemen near him, relieved when the correct steps came to him. After a misstep or two, he found the rhythm. Perhaps a few elements of Society, such as dancing, weren’t so terrible.
His gaze caught on Charlotte and in short order, all else fell away. Something about her calmed his soul as if she were his port in a storm. Dancing with her brought to mind a different time before darkness clung to him. It was pleasant to forget about all else except this moment.
This dance.
Charlotte.
She was graceful
