Free Captive by Joan Johnston Page A

feelings, the yearning she felt for Denbigh’s approval, but even more for his touch, were naked on her face. She glanced up at him, wondering if he had divined her dreadful secret—that she was attracted to him.
    To her chagrin, Denbigh did not seem at all affected by their closeness. He merely set out to give her yet another scold. “I cannot imagine what came over you, Charlotte. A lady does not offer her chaperon as a dance partner to a gentleman she cannot partner herself.”
    “Why not?” Charlotte asked. “Especially when her chaperon is far too young to be put in that role and …” Charlotte cut herself off. She could not tell Denbigh about Livy’s secret dream of someday being whirled around a dance floor by a handsome young man. That was something Livy had told her in confidence. “Livy did not seem to mind being forced into the duke’s arms.”
    “I think I am the best judge of what is appropriate for my sister,” Denbigh said.
    “I beg to differ,” Charlotte said.
    “You would,” Denbigh muttered. His eyes remained riveted on the other couple.
    Perturbed at being so totally ignored, Charlottedemanded, “What is it you think he’s going to do to her in the middle of the dance floor?”
    Denbigh’s gray eyes left the other couple and turned back to her. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t put anything past him. The man has sworn to ruin me.”
    “Surely he wouldn’t hurt Livy,” Charlotte protested. “And certainly not here at Almack’s. He wouldn’t dare!”
    “There’s no telling what an angry, desperate man will dare.”
    “Is that why you didn’t want Braddock to dance with me? Because you were afraid he might do me harm?”
    “Braddock is a confirmed bachelor. No woman is going to get him to the altar. Since my goal is to get you married and out of my hair, it made no sense to let you dance with him.”
    Charlotte’s chin jutted mulishly. “I thought we had settled that I will choose my own husband. I might like to try attaching Braddock.”
    “Don’t.”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Don’t try my patience by saying provoking things,” Denbigh said. “I won’t allow you to marry Braddock, and that is final.”
    “You can’t stop me once I’m of age from marrying whomever I choose,” Charlotte retorted.
    The earl’s lip curled in amusement. “Are youwilling to be my ward and obey my dictates for four more years, Charlotte?”
    Charlotte quivered with fury. Trust Denbigh to remind her she was only seventeen. She blinked back the tears of frustration that welled in her eyes. She was captive to the earl’s whims until she was twenty-one or until she was married. Charlotte had already figured out that her only hope was marriage. She had determined to marry a man who would give her the freedom to be herself, a freedom that had been bred in her bones, a freedom that was as American as she was. It would serve Denbigh right if she married his enemy.
    But from what Denbigh was saying, Braddock hadn’t really been interested in courting her, but in somehow hurting him. “Are you saying the duke only asked me to dance to cause trouble for you?”
    “I think he asked you to dance because you’re beautiful. And because he wanted to cause trouble for me. It is common knowledge you are my ward. His intentions cannot be honorable.”
    “Why not? Is the duke a dishonorable man?”
    “His brother was.”
    “What did Lord James do that was so terrible?” Charlotte asked. Olivia had refused to discuss the matter.
    Denbigh did not answer.
    Charlotte opened her mouth to pursue the issue but closed it again when she looked up into Denbigh’seyes. They were filled with anguish. Something terrible had happened, that was for sure. Someday she was going to find out the whole story. Clearly this was not the time or the place.
    She sought for some safe subject on which to converse. Of course, with Denbigh, there was little they could discuss without arguing. Then she recalled what Denbigh had