Charlotte eyed her reflection with both longing and trepidation. The satin gown was a beautiful green that complimented her eyes and brought out the striking hue of her hair. "I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense," Julienne cut in, resplendent in mauve-colored silk. "That dress looks much better on you than it ever has on me. You must wear it."

Turning, Charlotte gave Hugh's sister an impulsive hug. "Thank you so much." Having been occupied all afternoon with entertaining Gwen and helping wherever she was needed, she hadn't had the opportunity to see Hugh at all, and she missed him dreadfully. She was pleased to think that when he finally saw her, she would look as she did now, dressed in a green very much like the robe she wore the first night they made love.

She was also quite willing to admit that her infatuation with the handsome earl was rapidly progressing to deeper waters. A few hours without him, and she felt bereft. She wondered where he'd been all day, how he'd occupied himself, if he'd thought of her at all and missed her, if only just a little.

"I cannot wait until the moment Hugh first lays eyes on you," Julienne said, with a smile. "I've waited so long for him to find his footing and a steady companion."

"Find his footing?" Charlotte asked.

"Yes." Julienne waved her arm carelessly. "His entire life he's fallen into one scrape after another. Don't misunderstand, he's very intelligent and inherently kind. He simply has a tendency to leap before looking. He says and does things before considering all the consequences, and then regrets his actions later. Hugh has made an effort to change over the last few years, but it may be a while yet before he becomes a man that one would call responsible. There were a few times when I wondered…" She shook her head. "But you are a sensible sort, confident and poised, and Hugh is obviously quite taken with you. You'll be a good influence on him. I can tell."

Charlotte frowned, attempting to reconcile the picture painted by Julienne with the image she bore of Hugh-a man who was strong and resourceful.

"Shall we go down to dinner now, ladies?" Julienne asked, effectively squelching the questions Charlotte had been about to ask.

"Oh, yes, let's!" Gwen cried.

Shaking off her sudden unease, Charlotte turned to look at Guinevere. Dressed in the ice blue gown, Gwen's creamy skin was displayed to perfection. But there was something missing from the ensemble, and despite how hard she considered it, Charlotte could not remember what it was.

Collecting the elbow-length gloves the abigail held out to them, they left Julienne's dressing room and headed toward the main staircase. Several other guests also left their rooms, and Charlotte studied the latest fashions carefully, eager to see what was new and popular. A bright bauble on a passing baroness caught the light, and suddenly she remembered what it was Gwen's dress was missing.

"Please go on ahead," she said, stopping in the middle of the gallery. "I forgot something."

Gwen frowned. "What is it?"

"The diamond brooch that goes so beautifully with that gown."

"You would allow me to wear that?" Gwen's eyes widened.

It was one of the few pieces of jewelry Charlotte had remaining, and it was one of her favorites.

"Of course. I think the dress looks almost naked without it." And the fact was, after this week the chances of Gwen mingling with Polite Society were very slim indeed. Charlotte wanted to ensure the young girl enjoyed every moment to the fullest.

"Well, we should retrieve the brooch, then," Julienne said with a smile.

"Please proceed without me," Charlotte urged. "You have guests to attend to, and Gwen is so excited. I hate to delay either of you."

As the two women moved away, Charlotte lifted her skirts and ran to her room. Hugh was certainly waiting downstairs by now, and she couldn't wait to see him. There was so much yet to learn about each other, so many questions to ask. Clutching the diamond-encrusted piece in her gloved palm, she backed out of her chamber and shut the door.

"I thought that was you."

She stiffened at the familiar voice behind her.

"Only a woman of your breeding would run down the hallway like a hoyden."

Taking a deep breath, she turned around. "Good evening, Your Grace."

The Duke of Glenmoore smiled and sketched a mocking bow. "Good evening, Your Grace."

"I detest it when you call me that," she said tightly, her gaze raking his stocky form. He remained unchanged from the last time she'd seen him, a year ago. He was still handsome, with his dark brown hair and even darker, almost black eyes-eyes that radiated none of the warmth she found in Hugh's. Once she'd found Jared appealing; now she wondered why.

"I detest that you married my father. Some things cannot be changed. Such as our agreement." He stepped closer. "What are you doing here?"

She lifted her chin. "Whatever I please."

Jared laughed, a harsh sound lacking any humor. "Decided to make a laughingstock of the old man after all?" His gaze narrowed. "I will not allow you to besmirch the Kent name."

Charlotte forcibly restrained herself from taking a step back. Any sign of weakness would only fuel Jared's ire. "No one knows who I am."

"Charlotte," came the soft, hesitant voice down the hall. "Are you well?"

She turned her head toward Gwen and managed a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Please go wait downstairs."

Jared glanced down the hall, and his face darkened with fury. His hand lashed out, gripping her upper arm in a brutal vice. "You brought my bastard to a social gathering? Are you mad?"

Gwen gave a pained gasp, then turned on her heel and ran back down the hall.

Furious, Charlotte slapped his face, inwardly cursing the material that prevented a satisfying sting. "Unhand me. You make me physically ill."

"As does the sight of that mistake, dressed in finery and mingling with Society," he bit out.

"She is not a mistake! In fact, Guinevere is the only decent thing you've ever accomplished in your lamentable life. In return for your scorn, she has remained hidden, at the cost of her childhood and the chance to make friends. What more could you ask of her?"

"To know her place, something you never appeared to have learned."

"I have remained hidden as well," she argued. "No one knows who I am, nor do they know who Gwen is. Ignore us, and no one will be the wiser."

He yanked her closer, hovering over her like an avenging specter. "I want to know why you're here and what you intend, and I want to know now! If your aim is to extort money from me, I'll tell you now I refuse to give you a shilling more than what was bequeathed to you."

"Release her, Your Grace." The voice down the hall, though soft, was laced with menace.

Charlotte turned her head to find Hugh coming toward them with obvious predatory intent. His shoulders squared, his jaw tense, he looked ready to do damage, and she was awed. She simply couldn't think for a moment, arrested by the sight of him, beautiful in black and shrouded in fury. A force to be reckoned with.

The duke, unaware of the danger, didn't even spare him a glance. "This is none of your affair, Montrose."

"I would listen to him, Jared," she murmured, having no doubt, by the look of him, that Hugh was willing to ignore the Glenmoore title to protect her.

As she relaxed under his touch, Jared stiffened and glared at Hugh. "What do you want?"

"At the moment I want you to release my fiancee. Then I want you to step away and go about your business."

Charlotte gaped. Then her heart began racing so fast, she swayed on her feet.

Jared looked at her with raised brows. "Marrying down, Charlotte? At least this peer isn't on his deathbed."

"Go to hell," she snapped, tugging at her arm. Rescuing her was one thing. Lying to a duke of Glenmoore's power would only lead to trouble.

Releasing her, Jared stepped back. "She's after money, Montrose. She's a mercenary female, if I ever saw one. Do you know anything about her? Her past? Anything?"

Hugh stopped mere inches way. "I know everything about Charlotte and Gwen and the whole morass. I shall be taking them all off your hands. The only thing you need concern yourself with is the dispersing of Charlotte's trust, which I'll set aside for Gwen, as your father intended."

Jared's face broke out in a grin. "Ah, I see. What a perfect match you two are."

"What are you talking about?" Charlotte asked crossly.

"This is about the widow's trust, Charlotte dear." His gaze returned to Hugh. "You should know, Montrose, that the stipend is negligible. Not enough to keep you in the style to which you've become accustomed. Certainly not enough to wager."

Hugh stiffened. "This is not about money."

"It is for Charlotte," the duke said. "It's always about money for Charlotte." He looked at her. "Do you know anything about your intended, dear? Did he tell you how he wagered away almost every shilling of the La Coeur funds? He was forced to sell his sister to Remington to bail them out of debt. Why do you think an earl's daughter married a bastard?"

Suddenly Charlotte's nausea became a very real hazard, and she clutched her stomach in a vain attempt to still its roiling.

"Lady Julienne chose Remington of her own accord," Hugh growled.

"She was set to marry a marquess," Glenmoore continued, digging in deeper, as he relished Charlotte's obvious distress. "But then Lord Fontaine cast her aside when he realized how far in his pockets Montrose was."

"Lies!" Hugh glanced her way, his face flushed, his fists clenched.

Glenmoore arched a brow. "Are you claiming you weren't nearly destitute from irresponsible gambling?"