“You’re welcome.” Instead of walking away, she reached for his hand. “I am certain your mother is over the moon, now that you are home.”
“Which reminds me, I must collect her forthwith. Walk with me?”
She wrapped her arm in his. “Lead on, sir.”
“Might I ask you a personal question, Lady Dunlevee?”
“You called me Char when you were fifteen.”
“And you called me a ‘giant horse’s bottom’ once.”
“So you do remember. I thought you’d forgotten all about those youthful happenings in the country.”
“I wouldn’t say forgotten. It is just there have been so few catalysts to help me remember.”
“Such a shame. We did have a lovely childhood, you know. Granted, it was mostly because of the time we spent exploring Long Leaf. But you wouldn’t remember most of that. I seem to recall Oliver and Nicolas being the culprits in our misadventures. You have no idea how sad we were when Oliver went off to be a soldier.”
“Mother was too.”
“You were going to ask me something?”
“Hmm. I’ve forgotten what it was.” Well, he hadn’t forgotten, he just decided that the Carlisle ballroom was not the place to ask.
“Then I have a question for you.”
He raised a brow, encouraging her.
“Have you recovered from the duel in Paris? The ton half expected you to die, you know. Rumors were flying about for a week, until someone claimed to have seen you walking, well limping, I think they said, along the Avenue de Champs-Elysees.”
He grit his teeth, giving her a tight smile. “I am fine. The situation was…rather delicate.”
“So there was a married woman involved?”
“Not in the way you are insinuating.”
Nearly in the way she was insinuating, though. The tale might have turned out differently had he…
“It seems we both have things we’d rather not recall.”
“Indeed.”
He was happy to explain the situation to anyone who would understand and not repeat his words verbatim to every stranger. He understood Char’s hesitancy.
Joshua hoped Mother was prepared to depart. He was already feeling the heaviness of a long night of forced conversation. Throbbing had started anew in his side and thigh. And he really did not want to entertain the thought of marriage to one of the lightheaded fluffs with whom he’d danced.
And then there was Char Dunlevee. Curiosity about her kept his mind occupied and he barely talked with his mother in the carriage ride home; instead she chatted incessantly and didn’t expect him to answer in return. She talked of everyone but Lady Dunlevee. That would all change once Char’s secret was revealed, because secrets never stayed secret for long.
CHAPTER FOUR
THREE DAYS AFTER THE BALL—he did not want to seem too eager—Joshua knocked at the door of Dunlevee House, a four story townhome near Bedford Square, only to be snidely informed the Lady Dunlevee no longer resided at the house. Of course! What family wanted their son’s assumed murderer to continue living under their roof?
Perhaps the new heir, Viscount Dunlevee, had requested she find her own lodgings.
Ah! It was beginning to make sense. Widowed, forsaken, perhaps in financial jeopardy—she’d turned to an illicit yet profitable means to supplement her lifestyle.
Well, all the pieces didn’t fit together perfectly, but he could see a pattern.
During those three days, his memories of Long Leaf, the neighbors, and his childhood stirred, leaving behind a strange unease. The elder Taylors were more of a fixture in his memories than the Taylors’ daughters. They were virtual strangers after all these years, yet he experienced a strong, visceral reaction to the idea that one of them might be on the verge of catastrophe.
He clapped his hat upon his head and remounted his horse. He was going to rescue Lady Dunlevee whether she wished it or not, for he knew no proper lady would willingly succumb to such an illicit escapade.
The ache in his body should have been enough to remind him that he did not need to intervene in Lady Dunlevee’s life. And was she really so obtuse? Or insane? She was hanging on to her reputation by a thread. One indiscretion, one discovery, and she would be ruined totally. Not to mention what it would do to her sisters.
Yet he couldn’t stop himself.
White’s, a club at which he’d been long absent, beckoned with quiet conversation, a hot meal and hopefully a reading paper. Perhaps there was still time to ruminate over his desire to assist Char Dunlevee. If she needed money, he meant to help.
Later, he was welcomed into Lady Beckham’s sitting room as if he were the duke. The room was decorated in pleasant greens and golds with several seating areas. The group was clustered near the cheery fire.
Three of the Taylor sisters were present and all curtsied quickly. Lady Beckham nodded a cool acknowledgement.
“Mr. Forrester,” she said. “So good of you to come. I think you know Lord Worthey and Lord Rennold.”