Page 129 of A Perilous Passion

And look very dashing in his uniform…

Suddenly, she realized what a blow it must have been for him to lose his military career in the blink of an eye. Her heart bled for him anew.

“Why worry about him now?” Hester asked. “Six months ago, Justin might have struggled with his fears, but by now he’s a well-trained officer, fit and ready to do his duty. I’m sure you’d find him a strapping young fellow, were you to meet him again. I’m quite sure you’d hardly know him.”

With an effort, Charlotte returned her attention to the conversation.

Justin. They were talking about Justin. Had she really brought him up?

“I don’t think they should make young men with gentle natures and poetic souls go into the army,” she said. “It’s a cruel waste.”

“You really think Mr. Jessop might have made his name as a poet?” Hester queried. “Well, perhaps the military life will give him fodder for his verses, and put a bit of dash into them. But I don’t think you should fret, Charlotte. I’m sure there’s nothing you can do for him, anyway. Both your families have forbidden any contact.”

Charlotte nodded. Time to change the subject before she gave herself away. First Rafe’s secret, and now she had to keep Justin’s safe, as well.

Life was becoming very complicated.

“Charlotte, don’t think of him a moment longer. He wouldn’t want to spoil your pleasure, would he?”

Charlotte focused on Thea’s face and managed a smile. “Of course he wouldn’t. Forgive me. I must think of the here and now and not waste time fretting over the past. A past we cannot change.”

“Very philosophical,” agreed Hester. “Now, tell me, what mask have you chosen to wear to the ball? Not tragedy, I hope.”

Charlotte winced inwardly. She had chosen tragedy. “There were only two masks for comedy, and Aunt Flora looked so wistful. Mama tried on the tragic one and looked a fright, so I insisted she give it to me.”

“There won’t be too many eligible gentlemen beating a path to your side, I fear,” said Hester.

“Only those whom no one else wants to dance with,” said Thea with a laugh, but not unkindly.

“Who knows? She might end up in the waltz with the horse-fearing Earl of Beckport, whom no one else will surely accept.”

Charlotte, recalling that kiss, couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather dance with than Rafe. The rest of the world, and Hester in particular, had quite the wrong idea of him.

Selfishly, she felt a little glad of that. For, it meant she could have him all to herself.

“He’ll be too tired to dance. He will have walked all the way from his vast estates because he can’t ride,” Thea suggested, her eyes twinkling.

“Charlotte will have to hold him up!” declared Hester.

“If they developed a tendre for each other,” Thea said, warming to her subject, “they might have to elope on foot.”

Charlotte’s patience reached its limits. “Enough! What has poor Lord Beckport done to the pair of you, that you mock him so cruelly? Have you nothing else to talk about? And what on earth has possessed you to link my name with his in such a way?”

Hester came to a halt and looked at her askance. “There’s no need to fly up into the boughs. We’re only teasing, aren’t we, Thea?”

“Of course, for why would anyone as lovely as you care for him? He must be a good ten years older than Justin, and dark, not fair, although he is exceedingly handsome under that very unfashionable beard and eccentric mustachios.”

“You’ve seen him, then?” Charlotte inquired, reining in her impatience. The more they derided Rafe, the more she wanted to leap to his defense. It was beyond frustrating that she could not.

“Only from a distance. He rarely comes this far south.”

“According to the Spectator, he’s as rich as Croesus,” said Hester, “and was very popular with the ladies before all the trouble with the army and being snubbed by the ton. It’s rumored he’s had several mistresses and one or two quite scandalous affaires.”

“Dozens of mistresses, I’ve heard,” Thea put in, tugging on Charlotte’s arm to get them moving again. “He’s known to have an eye for beauty. Beckport House contains a vast collection of classical statues, mostly female. Some are kept in a room where only close male friends are allowed.”

“I’m sure many gentlemen of taste have similar collections,” Charlotte said, trying to banish a vivid image of Rafe disporting himself with his dozens of mistresses.

Thea said, “There were rumors about Harriette Wilson—”