Charity by Deneane Clark Page A

before, softened to a liquid silver, his love evident for his homeland. Amity caught her breath and then felt her heart warm as he spoke, his voice low, vibrant, and resonant. “Yes, very different,” he agreed.
    Silence fell. After a few moments Lachlan cleared his throat. “Would you care to dance with me, Miss Ackerly?”
    “Why, I think that would be lovely,” she replied, and placed her gloved hand on his proffered arm.
    He escorted her inside and returned her to her family for a proper, public introduction. To his relief, Charity was nowhere to be found. Lachlan grasped Trevor’s hand and gave it a hearty shake, and then he clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Hunt. I encountered Miss Ackerly on the terrace, and hoped to gain permission to dance with her.”
    Trevor grinned broadly. “Barring any disagreement from the ladies, I think that’s a capital idea.” He stepped to the side and swept a hand toward Aunt Cleo. “I believe you’ve met Lady Cleo Egerton?”
    Lachlan bowed over the older lady’s extended hand. “My lady,” he said. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
    When he straightened, she was giving him a probing, assessing look. “So it’s to be Amity, then? I can’t say I expected that. I suppose it is fine, though it won’t be nearly as entertaining for me.”
    Lachlan raised his brows, not quite sure what to say to this harridan’s odd and outrageous statement.
    Grace choked back a gasp of horrified laughter. “And, of course,” she said hastily, stepping forward and extending her hand, “there’s no need to introduce me. I’m very happy to see you again, Lord Asheburton.”
    “Likewise, my lady,” Lachlan replied. He turned to face Amity, and held out his arm once more. “Shall we?”
    Hundreds of eyes followed them to the dance floor, all speculating about the unusual appearance of the Marquess of Asheburton at a Town event. Even those who had never made his acquaintance knew him by description and reputation. Most came to the immediate—and correct—conclusion that he sought a wife. And , it was noted with narrowed eyes by the matchmaking mamas, it appeared for the third Season in a row an Ackerly sister was well on her way to knocking the Most Eligible off the list of prospects.
    One particular set of eyes widened in surprise and then immediately narrowed. Charity Ackerly watched her twin sister step into Lachlan Kimball’s arms, and felt a surge of . . . what? She furrowed her brow, unable to identify the curious feeling that was making her stomach twist itself into an ever-tightening knot. She gripped the railing of the balcony that encircled and overlooked the teeming ballroom below. Her sickened feeling increased until she finally looked away, her eyes skipping over the crowd. They collided with those of her aunt, who stood just outside the circle of people that comprised Charity’s family. Cleo Egerton was looking up at her niece with unconcealed glee.
    The gnawing feeling in her gut forgotten, Charity lifted her chin and stared back until the older lady looked away, only to lean over and whisper something to Grace, whoglanced up at Charity and laughed. She gave her younger sister a wave.
    Instead of waving back, Charity pushed away from the railing and walked along the balcony until she reached the curving staircase that led to the ballroom. She lifted her skirts slightly and began a swift, graceful descent. Once she’d gained the main floor, she crossed the ballroom, making her way through the milling throng with quick, dainty steps. She stopped when she reached her destination and frowned as she glanced from one smiling face to another.
    Aunt Cleo laughed. “You’ll never find a husband if you intend to stand around on balconies looking like a thundercloud instead of dancing, my dear.”
    Charity opened her mouth to respond but then bit back the retort. Behind her assembled family she saw Anthony Iverson, the young and dashing heir of the