Free Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella by Michele Paige Holmes Page B

I’ve ruined Mr. Vancer for any woman who might set her cap for him— including that mousey wife of his.”
    There was murmured agreement to this, and the group moved off. Charlotte peeked through the curtain as soon as she dared and caught a glimpse of a yellow gown before it disappeared around the corner into the ballroom.
    Bringing a hand to her head, she leaned against the wall. William was engaged to be married before— before Marsali and Lydia. He had not spoken of it, and little wonder, given the sound of the abuses he had suffered at this woman’s— at Daphne’s— hand.
    “I broke his heart…” Why would someone boast of such an act? Charlotte felt a surge of protective anger. William is out there— with that woman, who intends to hurt him again.
    I will not let her . Jamming her sore feet into her slippers, she decided what she must do. She left the alcove but, instead of returning to the ballroom, hurried up the stairs to the hall above. Once there, she looked down upon the occupants of the ballroom until she located her husband, speaking with a group of men.
    Still safe, then.
    Charlotte did not bother searching for the woman in the yellow gown but instead flew down the staircase and crossed the ballroom to stand at William’s side. He was still conversing with two men she had been introduced to on their wedding day and again this evening, Lord Thornthrope and Mr. Astor. Charlotte placed her hand upon William’s arm and waited, not so patiently, for him to finish speaking.
    With the first lull in conversation, he looked at her, surprise registering on his face. Worry must have shown on hers.
    “Are you all right? Has something happened?”
    “Not at all.” Not yet, anyway. She forced a smile. “I have missed your company this evening is all.”
    “It’s a rare woman who says that to her husband,” Lord Thornthrope said jovially.
    “Good for you, Vancer, for finding yourself a wife who cares for more than your pocketbook,” Mr. Astor said.
    “I have been most fortunate,” William said, bestowing a look of such tender affection upon her that Charlotte felt her confidence boosted in what she was about to ask of him. There might not be love between them, but there was respect and friendship and a strong attraction, and perhaps that would be enough— for a few minutes, at least— to pretend something more.
    “The night grows late, and we have yet to dance,” Charlotte said.
    William’s mouth lifted in a smile. “A situation we must remedy at once.” He
    gave a slight bow to their companions. “If you will excuse us, gentlemen.”
    Charlotte curtsied to them. “Good eve. It was a pleasure to see you again.” They offered similar sentiments, then stepped aside, allowing William to lead her toward the center of the floor, where couples were taking their places for the next waltz. Charlotte leaned in close to him as they walked. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she pled, “I have a favor to request.”
    “Anything.” He paused, glancing at her with concern. “What is it you wish?”
    “Please dance with me… as if you are in love with me.” The words sounded needy and desperate, but Charlotte could take no thought for her own pride at this moment— only his was at stake. She must show that Daphne woman that she had not crushed William, that he had moved beyond the hurt she had caused him.
    That he is so much better than she.
    William’s brows drew together with concern, and he reached his hand up to cover hers on his arm. “I care a great deal for you, Charlotte.”
    “I know.” She spoke hastily and as quiet as possible. “I will explain later. Just please. Pretend feelings beyond our friendship— for this one dance, I beg of you.”
    “You need not beg.” The tension between his brow ceased, and his gaze upon her turned tender once more. He brushed a straying hair from her face and allowed his hand to linger. “Only know this. I am not good at pretending, so do not mistake