Highwayman Lover

  * * * *

  Charlotte had not parted company with Lewis for more than ten minutes before Kenley managed to dislodge from Miss Tunstall and the other daughters to approach her. She saw him shouldering his way through the crowd, and she turned about, meaning to dart among the throng. By now, the social was well underway, however, and the parlor was crammed to capacity.

  Darting was not an option; people stood nearly shoulder to shoulder and allowed precious little opportunity to shove heartily through them, much less move quickly.

  “Good morning, Miss Engle,” Kenley said from behind her, standing so close from the sound of his voice that she had no hope of feigning convincing obliviousness; she would have had to be deaf to miss his greeting.

  She turned, forced into courtesy by their proximity. “It is afternoon, Lord Theydon,” she said. “You should have your watch inspected. Given how often you seem to lose track of time, it might be due for repairs.”

  “Is it afternoon already?” he said, raising his brows. “Forgive me. I have not noticed time passing. I have been distracted trying to draw your gaze. I thought you mistook me for a stranger in the crowd, or perhaps you did not see me.”

  “I did not think you were a stranger,” she said. “It was difficult to discern you among all of the ladies flocked about. I simply assumed I had used my allocation of time spent in your company yesterday, and would afford some other girl the chance today. Perhaps your acquaintance, Miss Tunstall. She seemed most determined to me.”

  “Were there ladies around me?” he asked, looking over his shoulder, feigning surprise. “I did not even pay mind. I saw only you.”

  He was trying to coax a smile from her. When the attempt did not work, he cocked his head slightly, curious. “Are you sore with me?” he asked. “Have I offended you somehow? Nothing comes to mind that I might have done, but whatever it was, it was purely unintentional, I assure you.”

  Charlotte met his gaze evenly. “You did not tell me you had been jailed before,” she said, keeping her voice discreetly low.

  He blinked at her and laughed. She frowned at him, not finding anything humorous in the revelation, which only made him laugh harder.

  “I am sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in concession. “Forgive me, I… I do not typically disclose that when I am trying to charm a lady. I have found it rather ineffectual.”

  “Is that what yesterday was?” Charlotte asked. “An attempt to charm me?”

  “I thought we had established that already,” he replied. “Yes, I was trying my damnedest.”

  “It is true, then?” she said. “You are some manner of scoundrel?”

  “Most assuredly not,” he said, laughing again. “I am merely a young man whose past saw him into mischief—a past I have tried diligently to put behind me in hopes of being a gentleman of some honor, in spite of it.”

  Charlotte raised her brow. “What have you been in jail for?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked. “I am a different man now. A better man, I would like to think.”

  “Of course it matters,” she said. “I do not find associating myself with a common criminal to be the least bit amusing. You might have told me this yesterday, and awarded me some opportunity to preserve my reputation by avoiding you.”

  He blinked at her, the humor fading in his face. He looked genuinely wounded, and Charlotte regretted her sharp choice of words. He glanced about, uncomfortably, and leaned toward her. “Would you come with me?” he asked.

  “I should think not,” she replied. “Your company has seen me in enough trouble.”

  “Please, Charlotte,” he said quietly, his brows lifted in implore. “I will explain to you. Everything. By my breath, I will, but not here. You would shame me.”

  She looked around at the guests nearby. Damn him, rot him, rot it all. He looked so sincere in his plea, so earnest in his effort to keep in her graces, she could not refuse him. She met his gaze and nodded once. “All right,” she said. “Only for a moment. My mother will have a fit.”