“On the contrary, it would be perfectly appropriate. We will be announcing a betrothal in less than two weeks.”
“That’s just what I’m trying to say. We won’t.”
His eyebrow arched. “Have you forgotten the events of the past few days?”
“No.”
She hadn’t forgotten his sly teasing. She hadn’t forgotten his strong arms around her. She certainly hadn’t forgotten that searing, passionate kiss.
She withdrew her hand from his. “What happened in the library was my fault. I should never have followed you there.”
“I should not have allowed you to stay. Sparring requires two participants.”
Charlotte melted inside. He was trying to do right by her, and she appreciated that more than he could know. But it only made her more determined to do right by him in return.
“I made the mess, and I’m going to clear it away.” She gathered the courage to smile at him. “I have a plan.”
Chapter Five
She had a plan.
Piers had noticed these impassioned statements of hers were falling into a pattern.
Don’t be alarmed.
I’m here to save you.
I have a plan.
She kept vowing to protect him. It hadn’t seemed to occur to Charlotte Highwood that he might be better placed to rescue her, rather than the reverse.
He couldn’t decide if she was purposely obtuse or sweetly deranged.
He abandoned the task of piecing together the cupid and helped her to her feet. “You have a plan.”
“Yes.” After a cautious glance about the hall, she lowered her voice. “I’m going to find the lovers. The ones who really had a tryst that night. Once I present the proof to my mother and Sir Vernon, we won’t have to marry at all.”
This was her grand idea? There were so many things wrong with this plan, Piers didn’t know where to start.
At the sound of the approaching maid, he waved her into the empty music room, where they could speak in private.
“I’m quite good at investigations, you know.” She drifted away from the open door. “When my sister Diana was accused of stealing things at the rooming house, I almost solved the mystery.”
“Almost.”
“Yes. I had the responsible person puzzled out. It was only her accomplice that took me by surprise.”
This record of almost solving a rooming house mystery didn’t particularly catch Piers’s interest. He was too busy noting how the room’s large windows and mirrored panels bathed her in sunshine. Golden light limned her delicate profile and set loose tendrils of her hair aglow.
Good God, listen to him. Golden light and loose tendrils of hair. He’d be scrawling verses of poetry next.
This wasn’t infatuation, he told himself. It couldn’t be. He’d cultivated a keen attention to detail, that was all. Sensitive information. State secrets. Loose tendrils. It all made perfect, rational sense.
“It’s simple,” she said. “Someone—or rather, two someones—had a torrid tryst in the library. We know it wasn’t the two of us. We just have to learn who they were and make them confess.”
He looked at her with skepticism. “Whoever had a torrid tryst in the library, they will not want to be found out. Much less confess.”
“Then we’ll compel them somehow. Or catch them in the act.” She made a dismissive gesture. “We have a fortnight to work that out, and I’m getting ahead of myself. First we need to learn their identities.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It’s quite possible.”
“We were behind the drapes. We never caught even a glimpse of them.”
“No, but we have all sorts of other observations. To begin, we heard them. If not their voices, at least their . . .” She made a face. “Noises.”
God. It was too close to luncheon to be reminded of that. “I’m not certain what grunting and squealing could tell you.”
“Well, at least it gives us reasonable certainty that the lovers were a woman and a man. Rather than two women or two men.”
He found himself at a loss for a reply.
“Am I not supposed to acknowledge such couples exist?” she asked. “Cupid parts notwithstanding, I meant what I said the other night. I’m innocent, but not ignorant.”
He waved a hand in invitation. “By all means, continue.”
This girl was full to bursting with surprises. He couldn’t wait to hear what she came out with next.
“We smelled perfume,” she went on. “It was a distinctive scent. I know I’d recognize it if I smelled it again.”
“Considering that ladies don’t wear such scents while paying calls or attending church, that seems unlikely.”
“I agree. But now we come to the most important clue. The garter.”
“It’s a garter. It can’t give you much to go on.”
“You must have little experience with garters, then.”
“I wouldn’t say that. But I do not wear them, I admit.”
She smiled. “To begin, it was scarlet red. Not only a sensual color, but an impractical one. The ribbon was silk, which is expensive. That indicates the lovers weren’t servants. At least, not both of them. If a maid were involved with a gentleman, it could have been a gift. The garter was also slightly large when I tried it on myself. That tells me something about the woman’s shape and form.”
“Does it,” Piers said absently.
He was momentarily lost in the image of Charlotte lifting her skirt and wrapping a scarlet ribbon about her smooth, pale thigh.
“All that, and we haven’t even discussed the best part. The garter was embroidered with the letter C.” With another glance around her, she withdrew a paper from her pocket and unfolded it. “I’ve drawn up a list of everyone in Parkhurst Manor that night. Family, guests, servants.”
“How did you manage that? From memory?”
“Not entirely. The servants and family I could name on my own, of course. For the guests, I stole into Lady Parkhurst’s parlor early this morning and copied her list of invitations. Then I scanned it for women with the initial C in their names or titles. Excluding myself, of course.”
He cocked his head and looked at her.
“Please don’t give me that disapproving look. I know it was wrong, but I’m trying to be helpful. Our futures are at stake.”