Potent Pleasures by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online

And is it nice being a footman?” Charlotte stifled a giggle. She did see her mother’s point. Forget this, she said firmly to herself.
    Still, she couldn’t stop hoping. Maybe he was a nobleman, or a gentleman. Maybe he would come to her ball, and she would meet his gaze across the room, just as she had at the other ball. And maybe he would shoulder his way through the crowd and bow before her. Charlotte’s eyes glowed.

    The Duchess of Calverstill’s ball for her youngest daughter was a triumph. By half past eight, spectators were thronging the streets outside Calverstill House, hoping to see nobility, even royalty, going in. By eleven o’clock the ball was clearly the success of the season. Everyone who counted was there, and several scandals were circulating briskly, which made the party all the more delightful.
    The formidable Lady Molyneaux herself had declared that Adelaide’s delphinium scheme was “delicious”; she and her fellow patrons of Almack’s had graciously extended permission for Charlotte to enter the sacred premises. The ball continued until dawn, long after supper was served in the marquee around midnight.
    And as to whether Charlotte had a good time: well, she survived. Charlotte didn’t enjoy it, her mother thought as she undressed in the wee hours. Anyone could tell that. Charlotte’s eyes kept scanning the room anxiously, as if the guest of honor hadn’t arrived, and finally she burst into tears and had to be quietly whisked off to the upper reaches of the house.
    But she looked lovely, Adelaide comforted herself. Many young ladies at their debuts were nauseated with pure nervousness, and if Charlotte was a bit, well, damp , who would blame her? Of course, no one in the ballroom was advised that the lady of honor had retired weeping to bed.
    Around two in the morning Adelaide looked up from the middle of a rather slow cotillion and saw two young men standing at the top of the stairs, looking down into the ballroom.
    She froze and stopped dead in her tracks, causing her partner, the Honorable Sylvester Bredbeck, to stumble slightly.
    “Sylvester!” Adelaide said sharply. “Who are those young men?”
    Sylvester looked around. “Well, they’re not bounders, m’dear,” he said comfortably. Sylvester had been her dear friend for years, and anyone he didn’t know wasn’t worth knowing. “I think the one on the left is Sheffie’s heir (he’s a trifle taller) and the other’s his brother. Let me see, I believe the heir is called Alexander and his brother is … Patrick. They are twins, as you can see, but Alexander got five minutes on Patrick and about two million pounds on account of it.”
    Sylvester guided Adelaide through a few more slow turns while she thought furiously. Of course! Sheffie was Sylvester’s friend the Earl of Sheffield and Downes, and that was his heir, and his younger son … and they both had silver-shot hair. What on earth should she do?
    Perhaps she should excuse herself, dash upstairs, force Charlotte back into the dress, and bring her down? But then Adelaide despairingly remembered Charlotte’s reddened eyes. Besides, these probably weren’t the right men, or man, and Charlotte would be horribly disappointed.
    The two men were still staring down into the ballroom. He’s looking for her, Charlotte’s mother thought suddenly. He’s here because of her. Adelaide’s heart warmed a little to him—well, to whom? Which he was the right man? They looked exactly the same to her. I certainly hope Charlotte will know the difference, she thought a little tartly.
    Even as she watched, they wheeled and left the ballroom. Couldn’t find her, so they left, Adelaide thought. Well, how very interesting. And I was quite right not to disturb Charlotte, because this is just the beginning of the season. Why, when she herself came out she attended fifty balls and sixty-three breakfasts, and if Charlotte didn’t encounter the future Earl of Sheffield and Downes and his