Page 139 of A Perilous Passion

And instead of mortification, all she felt today was—if only the tables could be turned—that she might have a taste of his.

She’d behaved deplorably.

Her only consolation was that Rafe’s transgression was even greater than her own. He’d done all he’d done to her, and led her on, all the while knowing he had no intention of seeing her again.

A loud knock on the door woke her with a start from her unhappy thoughts. It was Thomas the Carrier, delivering today’s Morning Chronicle. “But I’ve more exciting news than anything in those pages, Miss Allston,” he said as he handed the packet over. “A man was shot and killed on the heath last night, right here in Fortuneswell parish.”

She froze.

Rafe! He wouldn’t have been anywhere near there last night, would he?

Aunt Flora came up behind her. “How terrible!”

Charlotte crossed her arms to hide the trembling in her fingers. “Who was killed? Have you his name?”

“No, I haven’t heard,” he said, then tipped his hat and went about his business.

How infuriating, that he should impart such terrible news but have no details to offer. She would now spend all day wondering if Rafe was dead. They hadn’t exactly parted as friends, which would be forever on her conscience if…

No. She wouldn’t think like that.

Aunt Flora reached for her bonnet. Her voice sounded strained as she said, “I shall go find out at once. Someone in the village is bound to know.”

“You will not,” Mama called from the kitchen. “Come back to the table at once and finish your breakfast. We can’t afford to waste good food.”

Both Charlotte and her aunt reluctantly obeyed.

“I wonder if it was the highwayman who shot the poor man?” Aunt Flora said.

“Or perhaps smugglers,” Charlotte offered. “Whoever it was, it’s a great shock to have such a thing happen so close by.”

It couldn’t be Rafe.

Her stomach roiled as she tried to show an interest in her food.

It mustn’t be Rafe.

“I hope we weren’t in any danger when we came home after the ball,” said Flora anxiously.

“I doubt you need worry,” said Mama. She gave Charlotte a meaningful look. “Smugglers would have no interest in ladies. Perhaps it’s a revenue man who’s been killed. In which case, the perpetrators must fear for their lives.”

“Since when did you come to know the minds of miscreants, Lucinda?” Flora asked.

Ignoring her, Mama said, “Charlotte, you really must eat something and restore your energy after last night’s exertions.”

“This murder’s put me off my food. It’s much too close to home. I do hope the victim was no one we know.”

“No one of our acquaintance would be out on the heath after dark, especially knowing the highwayman haunts it.”

“If you’re feeling bilious, perhaps one of my nostrums could help,” Flora offered kindly.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said, pushing back her chair. “I believe I’ll go for a walk. I’m sure the fresh air will help.”

Flora pushed away from the table so abruptly her chair teetered on its back legs. “I’ll just get my shawl and accompany you.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” Mama called after them. “You just want to gather the gossip. If one of you could at least bring back a pot of fresh whelks from the stall? And remember you’re meant to be Charlotte’s chaperone, Flora. Don’t take your eyes off her for a moment.”

Charlotte had on her pelisse, gloves, and bonnet in the blink of an eye, and grabbed up her reticule from the hall stand.