"No time like the present, my Lord," Mr Peters said, standing. "They will be working on other innocent girls to replace the void caused by Miss Webster's escape."

Stephen groaned, those words were enough to ensure that he could not refuse. "Fine, I shall call for my carriage," he said.

The two men set out on the journey to Baron Kersal's home. It was about seven miles from London, so was away from direct scrutiny. It made the parties and entertainments that occurred there easy to be ignored by polite society.

"Who do I introduce you as?" Stephen asked as the carriage drove down the long drive.

"I'm your cousin's son on your mother's side that you've not seen since I was in leading strings. I'm not doing very well for myself, so you have brought me back to London to show me the sights," Mr Peters said easily. "My given name is Alfred."

"My given name is Stephen. You had better stop referring to me as 'my Lord', if you are my cousin," Stephen said.

The carriage swung around the gravel circle at the head of the drive and came to a stop in front of the large, open doorway of the house. A footman opened the door and pulled down the step. "Well Alfred, come, this will be surely a night full of sights that you will not forget!" Stephen said as he climbed out of the coach.

Peters raised an eyebrow, the sights in a brothel for the rich, would be nothing compared to some of the sights he had seen in his twenty three years, but he would refrain from correcting Lord Halkyn. He would not believe him, or more likely, just not be interested.

Peters stood outside the carriage and straightened his frock coat. He took in every detail as he made a show of fixing his sleeves. The house consisted of two floors, the door and portico in the centre, with three windows either side. It was obviously a modern house, built within the last twenty years or so. The sandstone brick reflected the light of the lanterns.

"Alfred, when you are quite ready." Stephen said, his tone a touch sarcastic at what he considered over fussing behaviour by the young man.

Stephen led the way into the hallway, nodding to the footman as he handed over his hat and gloves. A shout from the rear drew the men's attention. Mr Peters noticed Stephen stiffen a little, but a smile was fixed to his face.

"Kersal, how are you?" Stephen asked.

"Halkyn, long time no see. Thought you'd dropped off the face of the earth. Where the devil have you been?" Baron Kersal asked, his red rimmed eyes taking in Mr Peters.

"Had to go and rusticate in the country," Stephen said easily. "I think I'm getting old, the head doesn't seem to clear as easily these days."

"Good G.o.d, if you can't take it, there's no hope for the rest of us!" Baron Kersal said with a guffaw. "And who's your friend?" The last was said without laughter. The rule was that not just anyone could attend the Baron's house; he had to be asked for approval. That rule had kept the establishment exclusive and more appealing to the gentlemen who visited.

"He's my cousin's son; he attached himself to me while I was in the country. He's a bit green, so I decided to show him London life in all its glory. Didn't think you'd object while he's family," Stephen said with almost a challenge. It may be the Baron's establishment, but a Lord would always outrank a Baron and Stephen would always take an opportunity to remind him of that, especially since what had happened with Charlotte.

"If he's family, he's very welcome," the Baron said, but he had lost a little of his smile. He did not appreciate being reminded that he was lower ranking than anyone. In his home, he was in charge. It was obvious to him that Lord Halkyn considered himself above the rules, and he did not like that.

"Go through to the dining room, there is food and drink freshly served. You can have a feast in preparation for later," a lecherous smile suggested exactly what would be on offer later.

Stephen nodded his thanks and led the way into the dining room. He wondered if Baron Kersal had always been such a lecherous toad, or if it was he himself who had changed. One thing he had decided was that once this was over, he would never be visiting such an establishment again.

The two gentlemen picked at the food and the drink on offer. Peters made no small talk; Stephen had to pretend to be talking to the young man most of the time. He could see that Peters was acting as if he was taking his time over choosing his drink and his food, when his eyes were everywhere. Stephen had to acknowledge that Peters was very discreet, so far.

They were approached by various acquaintances of Stephen's as they sat and ate. Stephen introduced Peters to everyone and made him suffer the brunt of his jokes. He would have done it whoever he was with, but his aim was to let the men know that he was without money and a relative of his. Stephen did not want the extra complication of the officer being fleeced.

Peters finally put his plate down. "Right Stephen," he said quietly. "What would you normally do now?"

"I would normally play cards and then finish up in one of the bedrooms," Stephen said unabashedly.

"That is what we shall do then," Peters said, rising from his seat.

Stephen looked surprised. "They will take pleasure in depriving you of whatever money you have with you and more, if you don't watch out," he said. He had seen men lose large amounts during the course of an evening. He normally would not have cared, but the man was in the establishment to help him. He could not in all conscience see him deprived of funds; he did not appear to be able to afford any loss.

Peter's smiled a smile that did not change the aged expression of his eyes, but he looked amused. "Let me worry about my losses, we are here to act as you normally would," he said quietly. A little louder, he said. "Come on, cousin, let's see what you are made of, I feel like playing cards."

Stephen raised his eyebrows, but did not falter in replying. "I see now why you have always given your mother reason to worry. They say a fool and his money are soon parted; come then Alfred, let me show you a master at work."

Peters did not reply, but followed Stephen into the games room. He was a man who had seen many gaming h.e.l.ls and had taken part in more card games than he cared to remember. He was not one for disparaging the man who he was working with, but he was quietly confident that he would not be poorer by the night's end.

They walked into the card room, which was adjoining the dining room. It was a room filled with smoke and had a distinct odour of both fear and exhilaration as large amounts were won and lost at the tables. They approached the table where Vingt-et-un was being played and when the game was opened to new players they both joined in. Stephen abandoned Peters to his own fate; he gave the young man some credit for knowing what he was doing, and concentrated on his own game.

As the games progressed, a small crowd gathered around the table. It seemed that the quiet confidence of Peters attracted attention when his small pot of money began to grow. Stephen watched along with the rest of the group, while the banker was beaten time after time by Peters. Stephen had decided that he had lost enough for the evening, he did not want to give Kersal or Peters any more of his money. He was impressed by the cool way that the officer handled the game and the group. Just because he was new to the group, did not prevent them from heckling his attempts to win his game.

After a while Baron Kersal approached the table with a barely suppressed scowl on his face. It would not be good for business if he looked as if he was a bad loser, but he was not pleased. It appeared that the newcomer, who he had not invited, was making a substantial dent into his evening's profits. He was not a happy man.

"Your relation seems to be an excellent card player," the Baron said to Stephen.

Stephen could hardly restrain his urge to pummel his fist into the Baron's face, but a warning glance from Peters had reminded him to keep control. "Ha!" he responded, in his usual way. Only those looking very closely would have seen the tick of annoyance in the Baron's cheek. "This is new venue luck. Believe me, his mother and his banker are in despair with his gambling. He shall probably not win again for another six months. It's the same story time after time."

"In that case, I hope he returns to this establishment often," the Baron said, seemingly consoled by Stephen's words. "Too many nights like this and I would be soon out of business."

Peters looked at the Baron and indicated that he no longer wished to play. He left the side of the table and stood facing the Baron, saying quietly. "I have a proposition that will give you my winnings back tonight, if you are interested."

Stephen and the Baron were immediately interested. Stephen hoped the officer still had his senses about him, he had drunk a lot. He tried to be the responsible older cousin. "Now Alfred, I said I would show you the sights, I didn't say I would get you into trouble."

"Don't worry, it's not illegal. I think you will appreciate it too, cousin," Peters said. His voice was very calm, almost as if he was as sober as the moment they had walked through the door.

Baron Kersal looked intrigued, especially at the chance to get his money back. He indicated that the gentlemen should follow him to the side of the room. "What is your proposition?" He asked Peters directly.

Peters looked at Stephen and smiled slightly. "My cousin here thinks I have never lived because I have never been to London, but I want to show him some of the things we get up to in the country. I want my cousin's favourite girl and I will pay all my evening's winnings if she is allowed to be with us both. At the same time."

The Baron laughed loudly, which was fortunate, as it gave Stephen time to recollect himself from the shock of the words. He had not expected something like that to be suggested and wondered a little more about the officer stood before him.

"My good man, you will fit in here perfectly!" Baron Kersal said, slapping Peters on the back. "Of course you can have your woman! I'd always thought his Lordship was a bit of a prude; let's see what he's made of! If I wasn't so strapped for cash, it would almost be worth letting you have her for nothing!"

"That won't be necessary," Peters said quietly. "I am willing to pay for all the services I require, tonight and in the future."

The Baron's eyes lit up at the thought of a regular income with a new customer. A large regular income, if his tastes were directed to the more unusual. "Good, which girl is it you require?"

Stephen paused; he hoped Peters knew what he was doing. "I tend to prefer Laura, but I'm not really bothered who it is." He had to give the impression that Laura wasn't that important or Kersal may become suspicious.

"Do you think she's strong enough for an active night?" Peters asked the Baron with a leer.

"She will be. You will see that all my girls are capable of whatever the gentlemen want." Baron Kersal replied. He led the gentlemen up to the first floor and led them into a large bedroom. The four poster bed dominated the room. The fire was lit and there was a decanter of wine and clean gla.s.ses on a small table. There was one chair, but apart from that the room was empty. The Baron's view was that excess furniture was a waste of money.

"Is this room acceptable, gentlemen?" Baron Kersal asked.

"This is fine, all we are missing is the lady to make sure our night is a success," Peters said, handing over a substantial amount of his evenings winnings. Stephen had noticed that he had kept an amount back, which the Baron did not seem to notice. As he was being paid around ten times what he was normally paid for the use of one of his girls, Stephen doubted that he would care that he had not actually received all the money back.

The two men were left alone, the Baron a.s.suring them that Laura would be with them soon.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Stephen said quietly.

Peters smiled slightly and nodded. He moved to the bed and started to close the bed curtains.

"What are you up to now?" Stephen asked.

"Rooms like this will usually have peep holes, so that some of the men who can't afford a woman, or who prefer to watch rather than take part, can look on. I don't perform for anyone."

Stephen had a sudden sick feeling to his stomach. He was not sure whether it was because most of his acquaintances had probably seen him perform at one time or another, or whether it was because he was not sure what the night was about to bring. Whichever it was he longed to be hundreds of miles away from this house. Where, he could not openly acknowledge, because to think of that, to think of her, while he was about to do goodness knew what, was a slight on her innocence. It was going to be a long evening.

Chapter 13.

Charlotte had dressed carefully for the ball. She loved the dresses she now owned through Stephen's and Elizabeth's kindness. Stephen. If only she could dance with him, she thought with a sigh. They had jumped a few stages of a normal relationship, straight to kisses and marriage proposals and heartache. Not the stuff of romance novels, where the hero woos the heroine and there is a steady progress of the romance, she thought ruefully.

The preparations for the ball had been different to the other entertainments that had been going on. Charlotte knew that both Violet and Elizabeth hoped that she was going to make a match of it with someone in the area. Elizabeth had confided one day that, although she was no matchmaker, she was hoping that Charlotte would settle in Somerset, so that Elizabeth could enjoy her company for longer. The two had grown close over the weeks of her visit, and Charlotte had to admit that to be able to see Elizabeth every week would be a real temptation when thinking of a place to live.

She could have laughed off the matchmaking if she did not think that there was going to be an approach to Lord Dunham for her hand in marriage. She was flattered that she had been welcomed into local Society, although she acknowledged that it was her connections with the Dunhams that ensured she would be accepted. What Charlotte failed to realise was that her admirers were genuine. Yes, she had no fortune, but she was a beautiful girl and her liveliness and kind nature were very real added attractions to the young men of the area.

Mr O'Hara was the most persistent of her admirers and she worried in case she was being rude by her behaviour towards him. She was doing her best to make him understand that she was not interested in him romantically. He called every day, he sent flowers every morning, and he asked for the first dances whenever there was the opportunity. Tonight, again, he had secured the first two dances. Charlotte had been unable to refuse, she did not want to encourage him, but she could also not refuse the request of dancing, if she hoped to dance with anyone else. It would be a poor reflection on herself and her hosts. She had decided though, that she had to tell him that he must not continue with this attention. Others, in the wider social circle were beginning to speculate on a match between them.

Charlotte smiled to herself as Maggie stood behind her, performing her usual magic on Charlotte's hair. A few months ago and Mr O'Hara would have been everything she had ever wanted. He was handsome, funny, kind and thoughtful, everything that a good husband should be. He had only one fault and that was, he was not Lord Halkyn. No matter how perfect Mr O'Hara was, how comfortable his income was, how nice his house in Bristol was, he was not Lord Halkyn. He could not make her heart race; could not make b.u.t.terflies appear in her stomach, or make her blush at a look or a word. He would never be someone that she could fall in love with; she liked him, but did not love him.

She stood before the full length mirror in the corner of her bed chamber. Tonight she had to be polite but clear, she would set him straight on her feelings. Her appearance gave her courage; her dress was made of a pale green silk. It suited her blond colouring perfectly and brought out the colouring in her eyes. She was not officially out yet, but Violet had suggested that she come out in London, while visiting with them. Officially, she should not have been attending such a grand ball, but because she was unknown in the area Elizabeth had insisted that it was a minor technicality, to which Lord Dunham had shaken his head in despair.

Her hair had been expertly curled by Maggie and ringlets allowed to fall, framing her face and tickling her neck. Maggie had a wonderful technique of arranging her hair, so that it bounced as she walked. Elizabeth had given her a small necklace of silver chain with an emerald droplet. It was perfect for a girl not long into Society. Her apparel was completed with the pale green ribbon that secured her hair.

Charlotte smiled at herself; she looked every inch the lady, not a young girl virtually on her own in the world, and lucky to be in such fine surroundings. It still made her shudder to think how different her life could have been but for Lord Halkyn's help. He would never realise how much happiness he had inadvertently brought her, she had never experienced family life such as she was now involved with every day, and she loved every moment.

She thanked Maggie and left her bed chamber. It was time to join Elizabeth, Michael, Violet and Edward in greeting the guests. She was nervous, but excited too. Her first ball, in such a fine house, with nearly all of the people she cared about most gathered around her.

The music struck up for the first dance and Charlotte was approached by Mr O'Hara. He led her onto the ballroom floor and they began their journey down the long set. They chatted when they met in the dance, mainly about the ball and those present. Charlotte knew her moment had to be chosen well. When they reached the bottom of the set and waited to rejoin the dance, Mr O'Hara changed the tone of the conversation slightly.

"You look beautiful tonight Miss Webster," he said with a smile. He was dressed finely himself, a dark frock coat, contrasting with a royal blue waistcoat. His cream breeches and white stockings set off his outfit. With his dark hair and dark eyes, set against his pale complexion he looked every inch the fine gentleman he was.

"Thank you," Charlotte said demurely. Compliments were always something she did not quite know how to respond to, not being used to receiving them.

"I am the luckiest man here tonight," Mr O'Hara continued his flattery. "I can see all the others glaring daggers at me as we dance."

Charlotte laughed. "I think you exaggerate, Mr O'Hara," she said, dismissing his words.

"I don't think so, I can almost hear their mutterings!" Mr O'Hara continued determined to woo his chosen one.

They rejoined the set and Mr O'Hara continued his bantering, sometimes making Charlotte laugh, sometimes making her groan at him. He pretended to take offence, but laughed when she appeared concerned that she had insulted him.

As the dance came to an end, he took Charlotte's hand. "We have the next dance, but could I persuade you to miss it?"

"Of course, are you unwell?" Charlotte asked with concern.

"No, I would like to speak with you. I realise that I can't take you out of the ballroom, but if we could sit by this window, I shall obtain some refreshments and we can take the opportunity of speaking without the interruption of the other dancers," Mr O'Hara said, leading her to an empty chair.

Charlotte did not want a tete-a-tete, but she realised it may be the only opportunity to speak to him in relative privacy. The windows along the ball room were slightly inset, creating a small seating area in front of each window. As it was the early part of the evening, some of the windows were still closed, something that would change as the heat increased.

Charlotte sat compliantly and waited while Mr O'Hara gave instructions to a footman to bring them some wine. Charlotte was not sure about drinking wine, but the footman had disappeared before she could utter any objections. Mr O'Hara sat in the chair next to her; they were in full view of the ballroom, so it was perfectly acceptable.

"You do know that I want to take your hands, no I want to take you into my arms at this moment," Mr O'Hara said, quietly enough that no one pa.s.sing could overhear.

Charlotte blushed, but her voice was firm, "Mr O'Hara, I am not used to such talk, please let us not be silly and spoil what is promising to be a lovely evening."

Mr O'Hara smiled, "You wish me to hide my feelings? Miss Webster ever since I have met you, I have wanted to shout them to the whole world, and I am not a man who is used to feeling so strong an emotion as this."

They were interrupted by the footman returning with two gla.s.ses of wine. Charlotte grasped hers gratefully, all worries gone of drinking something that she was unused to, as she took a large gulp. Mr O'Hara's words were making her slightly uncomfortable and panicked.

"Mr O'Hara, please do not utter such things!" she pleaded, after allowing herself a moment to get over the burning of the wine as it travelled down her throat.

"Why not? Why can I not be honest before the woman who I wish to address as something more than Miss Webster?" Mr O'Hara said.

"Because I do not return those feelings!" Charlotte said bluntly.

Mr O'Hara looked surprised, but not disheartened. "I realise I am being forceful with you, we have barely known each other more than a few weeks, but in time you could develop feelings for me. If we could make things more official, we don't need to marry immediately, we could take our time."

Charlotte finished off her wine quickly and placed her gla.s.s down on a conveniently placed side table. "Mr O'Hara, I'm flattered, I truly am, but I don't wish to marry you, not now, or at any time in the future."

"Give me time, that's all I ask," Mr O'Hara persisted.

Charlotte frowned, he was being too insistent, too intense for such a location, they were in a public place. People may notice. Her fears were confirmed when they were interrupted by Violet.

"Ah there you are my dear," she said speaking to Charlotte. "Elizabeth would like to introduce you to a latecomer; he is hoping that you still have room on your dance card."

Charlotte rose, feeling the effects of drinking a gla.s.s of wine quickly, but managed to remain composed. She was grateful for the opportunity to leave Mr O'Hara, she had been dismayed when she had seen his frown at the information that a guest wanted to dance with her. "Of course, please excuse us Mr O'Hara, I hope you enjoy the remainder of your evening." She hoped by her words that he would get the message that she would not be seeking out his company again.

Violet linked her arm through Charlotte's as they skirted the dancers. "I thought it time to intervene," she said smiling at people as they pa.s.sed.

"Thank you, it was most opportune," Charlotte responded gratefully. "Mr O'Hara was becoming a little intense."

"Yes, it looks like you have made a conquest there my dear," Violet said happily.

"Unfortunately, he is not listening to the fact that I do not wish for him to be anything more than an acquaintance!" Charlotte said firmly.

"Oh, that's a shame," Violet replied. "He would have been such a suitable young man."

"It appears that I still prefer someone who is most unsuitable," Charlotte said sadly.

Violet patted her hand in sympathy. "Work hard to forget him, let the others have a chance to show what happiness they can offer. Excitement is fine, but marriage needs to be based on trust and affection. To not be happy in a marriage can make the soul wither and die; I have seen it happen time and again, please don't let me see that happen with you, my dear."