Charming Sir Charles (Dashing Widows 5)

“None of you gorgeous creatures needs diamonds to shine.” West, who had had a career in diplomatic circles before he married his childhood sweetheart, sent his wife a fond smile. “You all sparkle like the stars anyway.”

Helena’s expression turned sardonic. “Nicely saved, my dear. But don’t imagine that means you’re getting back the necklace you gave me for Christmas.”

Caroline smiled. “And while we mightn’t need diamonds, never imagine we don’t want them.”

Stone groaned theatrically. “See what you’ve done, Sally? Now I’m stuck with another trip to Rundell and Bridge. After the last one, I had to mortgage the estate.”

The lovely brunette in spring green fluttered her eyelashes at her husband. “I’m sure it was worth every penny, my love.”

Stone placed a tragic hand to his brow. “What does it matter if I feed our children on stale bread and water, as long as their mother’s taste for baubles is satisfied?”

“See?” Helena turned to West. “That’s the right attitude. You could learn a lot from my brother.”

Stone, rich enough to bedeck a hundred wives in diamonds, directed a woebegone look at his best friend. “You never think before you speak, do you, old man?”

West’s expression held a hint of smugness. “No need to thank me, chum.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Sir Charles, see what you’ve got to look forward to when you take a wife?” Helena said.

Sally was still avoiding looking at him. He struggled to hide his disquiet and raised his glass to his lovely hostess who, while not as elaborately dressed as Sally, was stylish in teal silk. “Apparently a lifetime of buying diamonds.”

“Oh, you’re going to make some lucky woman a wonderful husband,” Caro said, sending Stone a sly look.

“I do hope so,” Charles said, but his hard-won smile faded when out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sally’s unguarded expression. The glitter had disappeared as if it had never been. Instead she looked stricken and pale, and her eyes were dark with misery.

Hell, what did all this mean? Had she somehow guessed he meant to propose tonight and the idea filled her with horror? Dear God, surely that couldn’t be the problem.

Sally looked like her best friend had just died. What in creation was the matter? He racked his brains, but he still for the life of him couldn’t work out any reason for her behavior.

She caught him looking at her, and she plastered on a smile. But the bitter unhappiness lingered in her eyes.

He loathed seeing her like this. He wanted to battle all her dragons, keep her safe, make her happy. But right now, he fought an invisible enemy.

“Shall we go through to dinner?” Helena gestured to Charles to take her into the dining room.

As the others made up couples, with the exception of Brandon who sauntered in last, they went through and found their places.

Charles had hoped to sit beside Sally, where he had a chance at a private word, but Helena had placed him on her right. A position of honor certainly—he wished to God he appreciated it.

“Don’t give up hope,” Helena murmured as he helped her to her seat.

Charles’s faint laugh was tinged with displeasure. “What in Hades? Are you all aware of my plans?”

Helena’s glance fell on Sally who sat further down the table. She was glittering at Carey who looked appropriately dazzled. “No, I don’t think we all are. But you’ll get there in the end.”

Charles studied his beloved, and couldn’t help feeling Helena was overly optimistic. Tonight Sally seemed set on captivating every male here, with the exception of the one who wanted to marry her.

He supposed he should be grateful that the party included two happily married men and a pair of striplings not yet twenty-one. But watching the woman he loved preen and flirt with those two handsome young pups set his teeth on edge.

* * *

Charles was grateful that discussion centered on politics when the gentlemen lingered behind for their port. He avoided Stone’s meaningful looks and took an extra glass, but the premonition of disaster looming ahead only tangled his gut into tighter knots.

Over dinner, Sally had been witty and incandescent—and she still hadn’t looked at him. He’d combed his memory for some way that he’d offended her. But he couldn’t think of a thing. When they’d parted after seeing West’s art collection, she’d seemed as friendly as ever.

To think, he’d found that cause for complaint.