The Switch (14 page)

This fine argument, one she was rather proud of, was blown to the four winds by a child's sudden squeal of "Puppies!" from the hallway, followed by a shout from Stokes and the scampering of little feet. Charlie could picture what was happening in the hall. Stokes had led the Hartshairs to the kitchens to feed them, unthinkingly opening the kitchen door, only to have the puppies make a grand escape. All no doubt to the children's glee. They were now surely chasing the little creatures about, attempting to recapture them. Charlie almost smiled at the pictures running through her head, but she managed to restrain herself when she caught the expression on Radcliffe's face.

"As I said," he muttered grimly, "you must stop collecting people and puppies."

"Of course, Radcliffe. You are right. I shall refrain from rescuing any more wayward strays," she murmured soberly.

Radcliffe sighed heavily. "I wish I believed that."

"Oh, you can. After all, there are no more positions in the house to fill, are there?"

"I did not have a position for the puppies," he pointed out.

"Aye, well… he was going to kill them," she said helplessly, and Radcliffe
dropped his head into his hands and began massaging his scalp, making her ask sympathetically, "Does your head ache? Mayhap you should take yourself off to bed."

"Aye." Standing wearily, he gestured for Charles to lead the way, then followed her to
the door.

Charlie felt a sense of relief that the lecture was over… until she opened the library door.
The puppies were gone, apparently having been recaptured and taken away. However, Beth and Tomas Mowbray were in a clinch just inside the front door. Slamming the door, she whirled to face a wincing Radcliffe. "I just had a thought. Mayhap a nice massage would ease your ache. You just sit yourself down right over here and I shall see what I can do."

Charlie started to urge him toward the desk, but Radcliffe dug his heels in halfway across the room. "Thank you for the offer, Charles. However, I think you had it right the first time. Bed will cure what ails me."

"Oh, but—" Charlie hurried after him as he started back across the room, throwing herself in front of the door when he would have opened it. "What about tomorrow?"

He stared at her blankly. "Tomorrow?" "Do we have any plans?"

He shifted impatiently. "We can discuss that at breakfast, Charles."

"But—"

"I have a headache, Charles. Please get out of the way so that I can go lie down and be rid of it."

Shoulders drooping, Charlie stepped aside, opened the door, and followed him into the hall. The empty hall. Much to her relief, neither Beth nor Tomas Mowbray were anywhere in sight. She followed Radcliffe silently up the stairs, pausing at the top when he suddenly stopped. She glanced at him questioningly.

"I forgot all about Elizabeth." When she raised an eyebrow questioningly, he explained, "I left her at the ball with the Mowbrays. They promised to see her home. I suppose I had better check and see that she has returned and all is well."

"I shall do that," she volunteered quickly. "You go ahead and lie down."

When he hesitated, she hurried past him to "Elizabeth's" door and knocked briefly. The minute it started to open, she turned to offer Radcliffe a reassuring smile, then gasped as she was grabbed by her
arm and tugged quickly inside the room.

"Charlie! You wouldn't believe what a wonderful time I had. It was marvelous! Fantastic! Amazing!" Pushing the door closed, Beth whirled Charlie around the room gleefully, then released her and collapsed backward on the bed with a huge sigh to hug herself. "What a stupendous night."

"So I saw," Charlie murmured dryly, seating herself on the bed beside her as the girl colored prettily.

"Was that you in the library?" she asked, her nose wrinkling. "I did wonder."

"Wonder? Are you mad? If Radcliffe had caught you at your antics—"

"But he did not," she laughed and dropped back upon the bed, only to sit up abruptly again. "Did you pay off the blackmailer? Radcliffe did not find you, did he?"

"Nay. And aye," Charlie answered in order, then went on to explain the night's adventures, running through them quite briefly since it was obvious that her sister was not paying much attention. When she fell silent, Beth immediately began to regale her with her own evening, which seemed incredibly dull in comparison. She had danced with Tomas, talked with Lady Mowbray, danced with Tomas, discussed fashion with Lady So-and-So. Then she'd danced with Tomas again, and so her evening had seemed to have gone.

Compared to her own night, Beth's evening seemed terribly tame. Her mind had begun to wander when she caught her sister's last words.

"So, you may be Elizabeth during the day. But I should like to be me in the evening again at the Wulcotts' ball. You do not mind, do you?"

Charlie sat still for a moment, her heart seeming to have dropped into her stomach somewhere. Then she shook her head and rose wearily. "Nay, of course not."

"Oh, thank you, Charlie. I knew you would not let me down."

Nodding, she moved to the connecting door and started out of the room, then turned back. "I suppose you should sleep in "Charles's" room tonight, then."

"Oh, aye." Bouncing off the bed, Beth moved cheerfully across the room, kissing her sister's cheek affectionately before closing the door behind her with a cheery "Good night."

Charlie stared at that door for several moments, feeling vaguely cheated. She had to find a husband, too. Her own need for one was even more pressing than Beth's, really. After all, while Seguin may not be
every girl's dream come true, at least he was not dangerous like Carland. And there was the source of her upset, she realized glumly. They were supposed to be taking turns here at being the girl. Both of them were supposed to have their chance at finding a husband. Yet it seemed that Charlie was spending most of her time playing Charles. And most of her time was spent in the company of Radcliffe. She would never find a husband that way. Straightening her shoulders grimly, she marched into "Charles's" room, startling Beth as she started to crawl under the bed covers. "Charlie. What is it? Is something wrong?"

"I am afraid I disagree with your playing Elizabeth tomorrow night. To date, the Hardings' ball is the only event at which I have been the sister and allowed to hunt up a husband, and then Mowbray and Radcliffe clung to me like limpets the whole time. If we are to take turns at this as you suggested, then take turns we shall. Tomorrow evening is my turn to be a girl and look for a husband. If you wish, I shall be Charles during the day tomorrow, but in the evening, I
will
be Elizabeth."

Beth opened her mouth to complain at the switch, then paused, shame covering
her expression. "I am sorry," she said at last. "You are absolutely right. 'Tis your turn. Besides, your need for a husband is more pressing than mine, and I do already at least have my eye on someone. Of course, you must be Elizabeth tomorrow night. And during the day, too," she added firmly. "I shall even endeavor to keep Tom and Radcliffe away from you tomorrow evening so that yon might find someone you are interested in without their interference."

Charlie's shoulders sagged suddenly in relief and weariness.

"Charlie," Beth murmured when she started to turn away.

"Aye?" .

"This was a good thing, I think." She stared at her blankly.

"What?"

"All of this." She waved vaguely around the room, then explained, "Having to escape, meeting up with Radcliffe, ending up in London, fending for ourselves… Well, with a little help from Radcliffe, of course."

Charlie shook her head. "I do not think I understand—"

"It is changing us. I have always been terribly shy. You know that. But here I am learning to deal with social situations better. And you, you have never really stood up for yourself or what you want, yet twice now you have done it here."

Charlie blinked at that. "What on earth do you mean, I have never stood up for myself before? I am forever standing up for myself, rebelling and such. My God, Beth, you make me sound like a coward."

"Nay. Never a coward. You have a great deal of courage. You have always been a grand champion for others. But only for others. You never stand up for what you want." Seeing the bewilderment on her face, Beth explained, "The dresses, for instance. For years you have put up with my choices, never complaining once, let alone demanding—"

Charlie waved that away impatiently. "Dresses. What did they matter in the country? Besides, you were going through all the fittings, you had every right to choose."

"But I did not mind the fittings, and while I was doing those, you were doing something else. Something I disliked doing, like mucking out the stables."

"Well, after Uncle Henry let go all of his staff, 'Old' Ben had a rough time keeping up with
things. He needed help."

"Aye. I know. But I detested working in the stables. You did not mind it so much, so you did it while I went for the fittings. 'Twas an equal trade and you should have had a say in what gowns you wore as much as me. You never said a word. Until now. Just as with everything else you let me have my way. Until now, you would have let me attend the ball as Elizabeth. In fact, your first instinct was to let me, but then you stood up for yourself and said it was your turn."

"Well, aye, but this is a matter of my life. Do I not find a husband, I shall have to marry Carland and he would kill me. I must find a husband. I must have my equal turns."

"I see, so you are saying that you are only doing this because your life is more important than my pleasure?"

Charlie blinked in amazement that she would even ask the question. "Well, aye, of course my life is more important than your pleasure!"

Beth nodded solemnly. "Yet your pleasure is less important than mine."

Charlie frowned. "How do you come to that conclusion?"

"That is what you have said. You are not letting me have my way this time because your life is at stake. You let me have my way with the
dresses because it was simply a matter of taste. Yours versus mine. Mine was more important."

"You are twisting things," Charlie muttered impatiently.

"Am I? Then what of our birthday dinners?" "What are you talking about now?"

"Cook always asked what we would wish for our birthday dinner and I always chose roast duckling and blueberry torte."

"So?"

"You detest duck. And blueberries, while you like them, are not your favorite flavor of torte."

"Please get to your point, Beth."

"But that
is
my point. Had things been fair, we would have had roast duckling and blueberry toite one year and a meal of your choice the next. Or we would have had roast duckling and your choice of dessert one year, then your choice of meal and blueberry torte the next. But, nay, for the past several years, we had roast duckling and blueberry torte on our birthday."

Seeing that what she was saying was sinking in, Beth murmured, "You did things like that all the time, Charlie. You stood up for everyone from the village drunk to me. Everyone but yourself. And you always put others' wants before your own. Twas as if you thought everyone else was better than yourself. I bet that if Uncle Henry had arranged marriages between myself and Seguin and between you and someone similarly disgusting but harmless, you would have gone ahead and married the old coot."

Charlie grimaced but did not deny it.

"And I blame Uncle Henry."

She gave a laugh at that. "Something else to blame him for?"

Beth's chin rose. "Well, he was constantly criticizing you. He was forever calling you stupid and cheap and—" Her shoulders slumped. "And 'twas all
my
fault," she finished miserably.

Charlie's head shot up. "Your fault? Good Lord, Beth!"

"Well, it
was
sometimes. The times he would start out picking at me for something and
you would jump to my defense. He would turn his anger on you then and leave me alone." She sighed. "Mayhap had I returned the favor and defended you back, he may have left us both alone, but I—" She raised stark eyes to her sister. "I was so afraid of his temper."

Charlie moved to her side at once, placing a comforting arm around her. "I know.
'Tis all right."

"Nay. 'Tis not. I am ashamed of myself. You were not afraid."

"Of course I was."

Beth stilled at that, eyes wide and incredulous. "You were?"

"Of course. Uncle Henry has a terrible temper. I was terrified every time I faced him. So you see, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. I was afraid too."

"Oh, but this is worse," Beth breathed with dismay. "Do you not see? You were afraid like I was, but you stood up to him anyway. That is true courage, Charlie. While my allowing my fear to hold me back was cowardice."

"Beth." Charlie shook her impatiently. "Stop it. For heaven's sake. As if we do not have enough to worry about.
Anyone with any sense would have kept their mouth shut and let his criticisms
run their course, ignoring everything that man said. Now, why do you not go to your room and get some sleep?"

"I am in my room. Charles sleeps here and I am to be Charles tomorrow."

"I thought you might wish to be Elizabeth during the day, since I am going to
be—"

"Nay. I shall be Charles all day and night."

The Fetterleys' ballroom was filled to capacity with men and women all asparkle in their fineiy. It was also unbearably hot, and the fact that she had been dancing non-stop since arriving wasn't helping much, Charlie thought, fanning her face with one hand as she followed the steps of the dance.

"I did not realize that Radcliffe had any cousins. Lady Elizabeth."

Charlie glanced sharply at her dance partner. Lord Nor-Something-or-Other. She hadn't really caught the name. She hadn't caught the names of most of the men she had danced with this evening. But then, none of them had been all that memorable anyway. This one at least was taller than she was, had all his teeth, and hadn't stepped on her toes yet.

Actually, he was rather attractive too, she realized with some surprise, peering at his face for the first time since he had cut in on her dance with Lord Whoever. He had blue eyes, nice features, and light blond hair. He was also nearly as tall as Radcliffe, with shoulders almost as wide as his.

"Is there something on my nose?"

Realizing that she had been staring, Charlie flushed and dropped her gaze. "Nay, my lord," she murmured, her mind returning to the comment he had made.

"Do you know Lord Radcliffe well?" she asked cautiously after a moment.

"As well as anyone, I would wager. His sister was married to my brother."

"Mary." She whispered the name sadly, then tilted her head to look at her dance partner. "You met B-Charles at Radcliffe's club," she recalled Beth telling her.

"Aye. A charming lad. Though not as charming as his sister."

Flushing at the compliment, she glanced away, wondering how she was to feel him out to see if he was possible husband material. He was the first likely candidate she had met so far. The fact that he was tall, confident, attractive, and a good dancer already put him far above the other men she had met that night. And he came from a good
family. It had to be good if Radcliffe had let his sister many into it. "Are you married?"

"Considering me as husband material, my lady?" he teased.

Charlie flushed, but managed an unconcerned shrug. "Is that not what these balls are all about?"

"Aye. But usually the ladies are more subtle about it. I am single," he added gently, then teased, "No diseases that I know of and quite capable of producing heirs." Charlie flushed again and he laughed softly. "How charming you are. Blunt and to the point, yet you blush deliciously. Does that blush go all the way down, I wonder?"

When her eyes went round and she stumbled slightly, he pulled her against his chest to steady her, his hand sliding to the base of her spine and applying gentle pressure.

Charlie swallowed, confused by her responses as his body caressed hers through their clothes. There was the excitement she had experienced with Radcliffe, and yet it was different. With Radcliffe it had been pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her heart had leapt and she had followed it, reveling in the sensations. With this man there was an edge to the excitement. Where she trusted Radcliffe not to hurt her, she instinctively knew this man did not worry overmuch about any consequences. He could
ruin a woman without regret. Radcliffe would never do so. His sense of right and wrong was too strong.

"
Does
the blush go all the way down?" he whispered seductively in her ear, and Charlie swallowed as a shiver convulsed her.

Feeling out of her depth, she cast her eyes about in search of Beth and Radcliffe. Her gaze was halfway around the room when she caught a glimpse of a man that made her stumble again, hard. Ralphy!

"Are you all right?" he murmured with concern, steadying her.

"I… Nay." She managed an apologetic smile. "I fear I have overdone the dancing, my lord. Would you mind terribly if I cried off the rest of this dance?"

"I am shattered. But I should not wish you to faint from overexertion," he murmured gallantly. Taking her arm, he led her off the floor, his gaze sweeping over the ice blue gown she wore with its needlelace trim and silk-lined sashes in a darker blue. "I noticed you had not sat out a single dance since arriving. Mayhap a cool beverage would revive you," he suggested solicitously as he saw her seated in one of the few empty chairs lining the wall. "Shall I fetch you one?"

"Please," Charlie murmured, her gaze drifting around the room as soon as he moved away. She wasn't sure, but she thought Ralphy had seen her and might approach her now that she was alone.

"There you are!" Beth appeared before her suddenly in the new fawn breeches and coat that had arrived that afternoon. "You are a difficult one to keep track of."

Charlie nearly smiled at that complaint. She knew Beth had known exactly where she was all evening, but had been misdirecting Radcliffe as promised. Tom had made her job easier by not showing up to need distracting.

"We saw you dancing with Norwich." Radcliffe's disapproval was obvious.

"Norwich?" It took her a moment to realize that he meant her dance partner. "Oh, aye. The heat was affecting me adversely so he went to fetch me a beverage."

"It was more likely the fact that he was holding you too damn close that was affecting you adversely," Radcliffe snapped, then forced a smile. "Come. I think some fresh air may do more to revive you than a beverage and his presence."

"Oh, but—" she began, grimacing when he raised an eyebrow at her in question. "Well, I really would like a drink. Besides, is it not rude to just disappear on him?"

"I shall fetch you a drink in a moment," he promised, urging her toward the doors to the terrace. "As for being rude, it was rude of him to hold you so closely on the dance floor."

"Still, Radcliffe, it does seem unconscionably ill-mannered to simply leave like this," Beth murmured, following them.

"Then, Charles, you should probably stay behind to explain that Elizabeth was feeling faint, needed some air, and is now in my care."

Beth's eyes widened, her footsteps faltering. "Oh, but—"

Whatever she wanted to say was lost to them as Radcliffe drew Charlie onto the terrace and closed the doors with a decided snap.

"Self-absorbed, spoiled little whelp," he muttered, leading her to the railing that ran the length of the terrace.

"Are we still talking about Norwich?" Charlie asked with amusement. She had never seen Radcliffe so upset. He was acting almost jealous.

"He should not have risked subjecting you to possible scandal that way."

"Scandal! We were not dancing
that
closely," Charlie argued with exasperation.

"Had the two of you been unclothed, you would have been making love."

"But I do not love him, and we were not unclothed, and we were no closer than this." The last came out a bit breathlessly as she realized how close they were. They had gravitated toward each other with each word they had spoken. Now she smiled at him, unaware of the hunger in her eyes or the seductive quality of her voice as she murmured, "Does that mean if we were unclothed, we would be making love?"

"Elizabeth." Her name was a groan on his lips as he took her in his arms and kissed her with all the pent-up frustration he had experienced that evening as he had watched her flit from the
arms of one man to another.

Charlie melted in his arms like chocolate over the fire. Her arms slid up around his neck, her hands gliding into his hair, her lips opening hungrily beneath his. It was hot, sweet, and over quickly. It seemed to her that it had just begun and he was gently setting her away with a groan.

Charlie opened her eyes slowly, disappointment and hunger plain in her eyes. Seeing it, Radcliffe released a pent-up sigh, then offered her a regretful smile. "Perhaps I should fetch you that punch now," he murmured huskily, then moved away, slipping through the partially open doors they had come through moments earlier.

Charlie watched him go with a sigh of her own. Her body was humming, desire thrumming through her veins like a living
thing. She could still taste him on her lips, she realized unhappily as she stared blindly at the dancers swirling by the doors. In comparison, Norwich's effect on her when he had pressed her close on the dance floor had been rather tepid.

Groaning inwardly, she turned away from the windows, only to pause as a movement from the shadows caught her eye. She was tensing in anxiety when a figure suddenly moved into the light from the terrace doors.

"Tomas!" she greeted him with a strangled voice, her eyes shifting instinctively toward the door that Radcliffe had just stepped through.
The door that had been open when they'd stopped kissing, but that he had closed behind them when they'd come out. How long had he been standing there watching them?

A hard grasp on her upper arm drew her gaze reluctantly around to see that he now stood before her. And he was furious.

"You did not mention that you and Radcliffe
were kissing
cousins."

"I… he was just…" she stammered, her mind searching for and discarding explanation after explanation. Not that Tomas seemed in the mood to listen anyway, she decided with a sigh as he drew her closer in a mockery of an embrace.

"Or is it just that you share your kisses with everyone?"

"Now, Tomas," Charlie tried a soothing tone as she pressed her palms flat against his chest, attempting to ease some space between them. He was neither willing to be soothed nor held at bay. A growl of what Charlie presumed was strangled rage sounded from his throat then his head suddenly swooped down to cover her lips with his own.

Charlie was too stunned to react at first, and then she was too disappointed. She felt absolutely nothing. His lips were firm and warm and moved across her own with obvious skill, and yet he might as well have kissed a post for all the response he managed to wring from her.
The contrast between her lack of response to him and her weak-kneed, fluttery-tummy response to Radcliffe was terrifying to her. What if Radcliffe was the only one who could stir her in that way? What if no one else could raise her passions?

Recognizing her lack of response, Tomas redoubled his efforts, his tongue
sweeping over her lips and pushing into her mouth. Charlie remained pliant in
his arms and simply waited, her body remaining stubbornly uninterested. This was
horrible.

A gasp finally brought the tepid embrace to an end. Pulling apart, they turned as one to see Radcliffe standing frozen in the door, a
drink in hand. He looked shocked. Frozen even. But no more so than Beth, who stood beside him.

Groaning inwardly, Charlie fatalistically awaited the outburst of rage that was burning in Radcliffe's eyes. There was none, however. As quick as a blink he forced the rage from his face, stepped forward, handed her the drink with a cold, courtly bow, then turned and walked back into the ball.

Sighing, she looked down into the drink briefly, then glanced at Tomas who, taking a page from Radcliffe's book, suddenly bowed toward her with stiff dignity, then walked into the building as well. It figures, Charlie thought wryly. Just like a man. Kiss a girl, then blame her for it. She hadn't asked either man to kiss her, had she? Yet here they were, both of them storming off as if discovering she were some sort of tart. Men!

Her gaze slid to Beth to find her glaring daggers. "Oh, for heaven's sake," Charlie snapped. "You do not think I asked him to kiss me, do you?" When Beth's anger wavered, she added, "He came out to see Radcliffe kissing me and—"

"Radcliffe kissed you again?"

Charlie waved the question away impatiently. "Aye, and Tomas saw it, waited in the shadows until he left, then gave me a furious kiss of his own. And it was awful."

Beth straightened in offense at that. "Tomas is a very good kisser."

"I am sure he is. But not for me. I did not feel a thing when he kissed me. What is more, it seemed pretty obvious that he was disappointed in the kiss as well."

Eyes widening, Beth turned and glanced back into the ballroom. "Oh, no," she gasped. "He is leaving."

She raced off to chase after him, leaving Charlie alone on the balcony to brood over Tom's lack of effect on her, and her all-too-heated response to Radcliffe. Surely it was just a fluke? she thought hopefully. Surely Radcliffe was not the only one who could stir a response in her? Perhaps her lack of reaction to Tomas was merely because she'd thought of him as
Beth's. Perhaps she already thought of him as a possible brother-in-law?

That possibility gave her great hope. She had quite enjoyed the passion Radcliffe had wrung from her with his kisses.
The marital bed would be quite an enjoyable place if it contained anything like those kisses. But if Radcliffe were the only one who could raise those passions, she had a problem.

"Lady Elizabeth."

Charlie turned at that surprised greeting and forced a smile as Lord Norwich stepped out onto the terrace. "My lord."

"Whatever are you doing out here on your own?" he asked with concern.

"I was just thinking, my lord," she answered evasively, and found herself studying him curiously. He was a handsome man and he had raised some response from her earlier. Of course, he wasn't nearly as striking as Radcliffe, but-Scowling, she forced the other man's image from her mind. "Would you kiss me?"

If he was shocked at her question, it was no more so than Charlie herself.
The words popped out before she had even realized that the thought had occurred to her. She wanted to convince herself that Radcliffe was not the only one who could gain a response from her. And, that her lack of response to Tomas was because he was Beth's love interest and therefore almost a brother-in-law. To that end, it did seem she needed to kiss at least one more man. Hopefully, Norwich would be able to soothe her fears.

A moment of silence passed as he contemplated her, and quite suddenly Charlie was embarrassed by her forward behavior. Shifting uncomfortably, she cleared her throat. "I am
sorry. Please forget that I—"

Her words died in her throat as he caught her arm and swept her against his chest in an embrace. Then his lips were on hers, firm and forceful, pressing her head back. Clutching at his shoulders, Charlie gasped in surprise and he took immediate advantage of that, his tongue sweeping in to conquer. He was most masterful, and Charlie felt relief slide over her as she felt the first faint stirrings of a response awaken within her.