Sally MacKenzie Bundle Read Free Page A

invade Lady Elizabeth’s room. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
    “I know what you were thinking. You told me—”
    “Lord Peter!”
    Lord Peter frowned and turned to Charlotte.
    “I believe we intrude on Lady Elizabeth’s privacy.” Charlotte smiled up at him as she ran her fingers over his shirt cuff. “It’s time you went to…bed, don’t you think?”
    It was Lord Peter’s turn to have an arrested expression. He stared down at Charlotte for a moment and then grinned.
    “I believe you are correct, your grace.”
    “Of course I am.” Charlotte glanced at Felicity. “I imagine you dreamt the event, Lady Felicity. Sometimes our dreams are so vivid, they appear real, do they not?”
    Felicity tore her eyes off the bed curtains. “Yes. Yes, I’m certain you are right, your grace.” She glanced back at the bed. “Sometimes my dreams do seem real.”
    “Exactly.” Charlotte moved toward the door, Lord Peter at her side. “So sorry to disturb you, Lady Elizabeth.” Her eyes drifted to the bed also. “I’m certain you are eager to get back to”—Charlotte smiled slightly—“sleep.” She inclined her head. “You have depths I never suspected.”
    Lizzie watched the crowd disperse. Lady Beatrice was the last to leave. She looked at the bed and raised her eyebrows.
    “Anything you would like to tell me, Lizzie?”
    Lizzie looked at the bed, too.
    “Um, no.”
    “You’re certain?”
    “Yes.” Lizzie nodded. She was definitely certain. She did not want to discuss the evening’s bizarre events with anyone. She was of half a mind that she, too, was the victim of a very vivid dream. “I’m a trifle out of curl. I think I will just go to bed.”
    “I see.” Lady Beatrice addressed the bed in a very stern voice. “Well, I am more than certain the duke would eviscerate any man who played fast and loose with his sister’s reputation—or harmed her in any way.”
    “Yes. I’m sure. Thank you. Good night.”
    Lizzie ushered Lady Bea out the door and closed it firmly behind her. Then she sagged against the solid wooden surface, puffed out her cheeks, and eyed the bed.
    Could she have dreamt the entire sequence of events? Was it possible the evening was simply the product of overindulgence?
    There was only one way to find out. She pushed away from the door and stepped toward the bed.

Chapter Two
    “What were you thinking?” Charlotte drew Felicity into her room. Sometimes she wanted to shake the girl. If she were serious about catching Lord Westbrooke, she’d have to start using her head for something other than keeping her ears apart. Men were supposed to think with their nether regions, not women.
    Felicity stopped just inside the door. “Aren’t you expecting company?”
    “Yes, thanks to you.” Charlotte took a deep breath, repressing her annoyance. Perhaps it was just as well. She needed to get Lord Peter into her bed. The evening’s drama had served to force her over her initial reluctance. She glanced at her watch.
    “He’ll be here soon.” And gone soon, too, she hoped. “I told him I had to speak to you first.” And she wanted to fortify her nerves with a sip or two of brandy.
    “Peter’s not a patient man.”
    Charlotte shrugged. “He’s not a bright man, either. If I hadn’t distracted him and reined you in as well, Westbrooke would be engaged now—and you would not be the woman sporting his betrothal ring. Have you never learned discretion?” She headed for her bureau. Why had she agreed to help Felicity trap Westbrooke?
    The answer was simple. Trapping the earl for Felicity meant the Duke of Alvord’s sister could not wed the man. Taking Westbrooke off the marriage mart might even send Lady Elizabeth into a permanent decline—and that would hurt Alvord.
    Three years ago when Alvord had chosen an American interloper as his duchess, Charlotte had been livid. She’d been determined to marry a duke, and the only marriageable one available after Alvord wed had been