Free Miss Charity's Case by Jo Ann Ferguson Page B

could think of a dozen reasons why she should say no, reasons that made sense and would put an end to her craving for him to touch her again as he had by the door, but she said, “You may tell her I shall call before the end of the week.”
    â€œCharity, we shall be leaving for Graystone Manor then,” Joyce said, urging her again toward the dining room door.
    â€œI shall call when I can,” she amended.
    Lord Blackburn’s smile swept over her, its heat threatening to melt her. “I know she will look forward to it.” He turned on his heel to walk toward the hallway.
    â€œNow that he has left, this party will be perfect,” Leatrice said into the silence. “I begged Lady Eloise not to invite Lord Blackburn. When she did, I thought he would have the sense to stay away after that last scandal.”
    â€œWhat scandal?” asked Joyce.
    â€œIt is wrong to speak poorly of people,” Charity said, “when they cannot defend themselves.”
    â€œIs it wrong to speak the truth?” Leatrice fired back. “Lord Blackburn is unwelcome in most homes.” She turned to Joyce who was listening avidly. “So many maidens he has ruined with his attentions!”
    Charity again tried to put a halt to the demure hits. “Leatrice, he was Lady Eloise’s guest. You should not speak of him so.”
    â€œI shall not speak so, if you will heed me. You would be wise to avoid him. Both you and Joyce are new to Town. He is sure to see you as fodder for his scabby reputation which is as dark as his name.”
    Joyce shuddered delicately. “He seems to be hiding something behind his smiles.”
    Mr. Hoyle’s voice was like the rumbling of doom. “More than you can know.”

Six
    â€œâ€¦ and my dear Booth, of course, declined.” With a giggle that grated on Charity’s ears, Leatrice went on, “Can you believe anyone would expect my brother to do such a thing?”
    Charity could not answer, for she had not been listening to Leatrice’s prattle as they drove through the rolling hills. She wished Lady Eloise had not extended an invitation to Leatrice to join them in the country. She had to be grateful Mr. Hoyle could not come with them. Hurting his feelings was something she wished to avoid, but his persistence might soon force her hand.
    Charity sat between Joyce and Leatrice. Across from them, Lady Eloise rode facing forward in her favorite black traveling carriage. Next to her great-aunt sat Miss Munson, Lady Eloise’s companion, who snored delicately in counter-tempo to her lady’s slow breathing. Over that sound, Charity could hear the rattle of the wagon behind them. It carried the servants and their luggage.
    She was glad her great-aunt and Miss Munson slept. Lady Eloise had been decidedly curious as to why her elder grandniece had been so reticent about the party two nights ago while Joyce had chattered like a monkey about all the people she had spoken with. When Joyce had spoken of her dance with the Marquess of Glynnford and his recent call, Charity had understood why Lady Eloise had decided that they would visit her country home Graystone Manor. The marquess lived less than a league away.
    As the carriage slowed to turn from the main road, Joyce asked softly, “So quiet, Charity? Are you dreaming of the ball Lord Glynnford will be having? If it is half as grand as our soirée , it will be an evening past price.”
    â€œMayhap for you, but for Charity?” Leatrice laughed. “Lord Blackburn spent so much time with you. Now you are skimble-skamble over him.” Twisting the gold chain of her pendant, she smiled. “So much the widgeon you are, Charity. Will you ignore Lord Blackburn has a reputation—”
    â€œQuite as black as his name,” Charity said.
    â€œYes!” When she realized the words had been laced with sarcasm, her smile wavered. “Be wary. He is below reproach. He has been