Charming Sir Charles (Dashing Widows 5)

When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room, Sally looked up at his entrance, then her gaze slid off him and landed on West and Silas. Charles braced for more blasted glittering, but she remained quiet. And strangely sad, despite the smile fixed to her face. The smile wasn’t terribly convincing.

“What do you think this weather is going to do?” Caro asked from the sofa, where she sat beside Helena.

“Spring rain here can settle in and last for days, I’m afraid.” West moved forward to rest his hand on his wife’s shoulder. Helena glanced up with a soft smile.

Charles ground his teeth. It wasn’t the night for him to appreciate other people’s marital bliss.

Meg, for once, wasn’t talking about horses. Instead she was flicking through a fashion magazine at a table in the corner. Brandon and Carey were absent. Charles guessed they were playing billiards. With great glee, they’d discovered the table this morning. Perhaps that was why Sally was sad—she’d lost her audience for her flirting.

Charles no longer held out any hope of proposing tonight. But he badly wanted to know what had upset Sally, and if he could do anything to help. He hated knowing that despite her show of effervescence, she was wretched.

He smiled at her. “Lady Norwood, I’m keen to see West’s Caravaggios by candlelight. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Perhaps not this evening, Sir Charles,” Sally said in a dull tone. And while every eye in the room focused on her with varying degrees of curiosity, Sally still talked to someone invisible standing just behind him.

She straightened, and he saw that she was still unusually pale. When she reached out to grip the mantelpiece, her long, slender fingers were rigid with tension.

What the devil? Even more concerned, Charles stepped forward. “Lady Norwood, aren’t you well?”

He saw her begin to shake her head, then she gave a jerky nod. “I have a slight headache.”

Helena’s expression held more speculation than sympathy, Charles noted. “Perhaps it’s being cooped up inside all day.”

Sally sent her a shaky smile. Hard to believe this was the creature who had scintillated with coruscating brilliance only half an hour ago. Perhaps she was genuinely ill, but the more Charles looked at her, the less he believed it.

No, something had upset her. He just wished to Hades he knew what it was. The sight of Sally Cowan fighting to contain her distress made him insane. He loathed that she shut him out.

If he’d ever doubted that he loved her, the way he felt now when he saw her unhappy confirmed that he was irrevocably hers.

“I’m sure that’s it.” Sally went back to addressing Charles’s right shoulder. “However I think Meg would love to see the paintings. She has a great enthusiasm for chiaroscuro.”

Charles stifled a derisive retort. Not unless Chiaroscuro was the name of a racehorse, she didn’t. He waited for Meg to make some excuse.

To his surprise, the girl closed the magazine. “I’d love to.”

Good God, the world turned upside down. Charles remembered his manners in time to bow to Meg. “Capital. Shall we?”

He lifted a lit candelabra and offered his arm. Meg stood and curled her hand around his elbow. “We shall.”

“Have fun,” Sally said after them, and he could swear he heard a crack in her voice.

Puzzled, he glanced back as he and Meg reached the door. For the first time all evening, Sally was staring directly at him.

She was no longer pale. Instead she looked like she suffered a fever. She bit her lip, and her chin trembled. Growing up with four sisters told him she tried with all her might to hold back tears.

What the hell?

Then she realized he was looking at her, and she dredged up that careless smile, no more convincing than it had been earlier.

The memory of the strain in her piquant face haunted him as he left the drawing room with Meg at his side.

* * *

Chapter Six

* * *

Meg was uncharacteristically quiet as Charles escorted her into the shadowy gallery. They progressed past gilded frames and portraits mysterious in the candlelight to the first Caravaggi