Free Charity by Deneane Clark Page B

to explain why it would be necessary for her sister to attend a ball that evening with the Marquess of Asheburton.

Nine
    Charity gave the bodice of her gown a critical look in the mirror. The amethyst frock set off her creamy complexion beautifully and did amazing things to both her eyes and her hair, but Charity could see nothing but flaws in the garment. The square neckline was demure, offering only the barest hint of the shadowy valley between her breasts. But was it still too much? She pressed her hand flat against the curving mounds, as if she could somehow make them disappear.
    Amity, wearing the same dress in pale lilac, sighed. “Charity, the marquess has been waiting downstairs for nearly half an hour. He’s bound to be getting impatient.”
    Her sister’s face brightened with hope. “Maybe he’ll become so annoyed he’ll simply go away.”
    Amity laughed. “Your hair is perfect, your gown is perfect. You look beautiful.” Her tone turned teasing. “If I didn’t know better, I’d be inclined to think you were trying to look your very best for him.”
    “Quite the opposite,” returned Charity tightly, in a voice laced with stress. “If I thought I could get away with it I’d go in a burlap sack.” She gave her reflection a last rueful glance and then reluctantly followed her sister out.
    They found Lachlan in the sitting room talking comfortably with Gareth. Both men instantly stood when the girls entered. Amity curtsied properly and smiled, but Charity stood, rooted in place, until her twin unobtrusively nudgedher in the side. With a start, Charity bobbed a quick, halfhearted curtsy as well.
    Lachlan smiled. “Good evening, ladies.” He stepped forward and lifted Amity’s hand for a kiss, immediately recognizing her by her less colorful attire and sweet demeanor. “You look lovely, Miss Ackerly,” he said, his voice warm. “I shall be the envy of every man at the ball when I show up with such a beautiful young woman on my arm.”
    Amity blushed and withdrew her hand, then glanced uncertainly at Charity, who had yet to say a word. She suppressed a frown. Her fiery twin’s moods and behavior had always been unpredictable, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing her act quite this oddly.
    When she realized her sister intended to remain silent, Amity spoke. “Thank you, my lord. I do hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked Charity to accompany us.”
    Lachlan did indeed mind. He’d hoped to find a quiet moment, perhaps on the ride home, to steal another kiss or two. He’d carried the memory of that morning’s embrace with him throughout his busy day, and it had brought many a smile as he recalled Amity’s unguarded ardor and her shy yet passionate response to his touch. With Charity along, a replay would be impossible. His polite smile faltered only slightly, however, before he recovered.
    “In that case, the men will envy me all the more, for I shall arrive with the two loveliest women in all of London.”
    Charity, barely managing to suppress an indelicate snort, rolled her eyes. She looked at Lachlan, found him watching her, and offered up a sweet, saccharine smile. “You are too kind, my lord,” she said softly, though her inclination was to tell him exactly what she thought of his, to her mind, insincere attempt at gallantry. For Amity’s sake, she would hold her tongue for as long as she was forced to endure hiscompany; then, when they reached the ball, she would gratefully disappear into the crowd.
    She managed quite nicely during the short ride in his coach. Lachlan and Amity conversed quietly, leaving Charity to her thoughts, which, to her horror, kept returning to the kiss shared in the garden that morning. So caught up was she in her thoughts, she didn’t even feel the coach come to a smooth stop and was startled when the footman opened the door.
    Dutifully she allowed Lachlan to help her down and then placed her hand on the arm he offered. Amity took his other. The trio strolled