The Fairest of Them All by Cathy Maxwell Page B

insisted.
    â€œThen return to Boston,” Gavin answered. The negotiations had begun. To win the Duke of Baynton’s cooperation, one must do as the duke wished.
    And Jack wanted to refuse him, to exert his own authority, but he was a man now and the stakes at play were high. This was no time to indulge in old grudges.
    â€œThen, yes, Mother, I will stay,” Jack heard himself say, and prayed he was making the right ­decision.

Chapter Five
    S arah was sitting in the front room at her desk, writing away under the flickering light of a brace of candles, when Char and Lady Baldwin walked into the house on Mulberry Street. She set aside her pen and placed the cap on the ink bottle.
    â€œHow was the ball?” she asked. “You are home early, earlier than I had anticipated.”
    â€œWe have quite a story,” Lady Baldwin said before taking a moment to place a coin in the palm of the driver of the hired chaise that had carried them to the duke’s ball and then home again.
    The man did not want to leave. Hungry eyes on Char, he said, “If you ever need me again, ask for Lewis. I’m happy to be at your beck and call.” He was young and handsome in a rawboned way and quite obviously taken with her.
    â€œYes, well, that is enough for tonight,” Lady Baldwin assured him and all but slammed the door on him to make him leave. She looked to Char. “I always receive the best service when I’m with you. However, sometimes, it is a bit too much.”
    â€œ He was,” Char agreed. She was tired, exhausted. She hadn’t realized how wound up she’d been about this evening until now that it was over. She helped Lady Baldwin out of her velvet cape and took off her own cloak, hanging them both on the row of pegs in the hall.
    Char had thought herself quite presentable for the evening until she’d arrived at the duke’s house, handed over the wool cloak she’d borrowed from Sarah, and had seen it against the furs and embroidered outerwear of the other female guests. The poor wool had appeared quite shabby. It had been a humbling moment for Char, one of many.
    Sarah knew something was wrong. “What happened? You weren’t refused at the door, were you?” she asked as if she had feared the invitation was a hoax.
    â€œOh no, nothing like that,” Lady Baldwin assured her, walking past her into the front room. “Something worse.”
    â€œWorse?” Sarah repeated.
    â€œYes, worse,” Lady Baldwin declared, practically falling into a chair, the green and yellow feathers of her turban slightly askew. “Charlene, a glass of something, please .”
    â€œI need one as well,” Char murmured. “And so will you, Sarah.” She started for the kitchen but Sarah stopped her.
    â€œI have it in here. I set up a tray for us to celebrate. Now tell me, what happened?”
    â€œYou will need a glass of something first,” Lady Baldwin said.
    Sarah began pouring from the sherry bottle on the tray. She handed a glass to Lady Baldwin. “Did she meet the duke?” she demanded.
    â€œI met him,” Char said.
    Sarah handed her a glass. “Did he not like you? Oh no, he must. What did he say? Did you talk to him very long? Did he appear interested? Did you dance with him?”
    â€œOh, he was very interested,” Lady Baldwin assured her. “I have never seen a man more taken with a woman than the Duke of Baynton was with our Charlene. One look and it was as if everyone in the ballroom—­and it was packed, mind you. There were lovely girls and not so lovely ones with hopeful parents covering every inch of it. Packed to the rafters they were—­”
    â€œWill you finish your sentence?” Sarah said with no small amount of exasperation. “Everyone in the ballroom what ?”
    Chastened, Lady Baldwin said, “Why, it was as if everyone in the ballroom disappeared. He only had eyes for