Page 36 of A Perfect Engagement
“I can take him,” Daniel protested.
“No, you handle her.” Her friend nodded in Charlotte’s direction. “That’s your job now. Look after Charlotte.”
He let go of Lucius. “Go with Miss Spencer,” he ordered.
“Ellie! Want to join me for a glass of whiskey?” Lucius swung an arm around Miss Spencer’s waist. They made their way toward the steps down to the garden.
“I certainly do not! And shame on you, Lucius, for showing up stinking drunk to a family function. What in the world were you thinking?” Miss Spencer’s sharp tone would have sliced any man to shreds.
“Ellie, Ellie, does this ruin your little fantasy of me?”
A feminine gasp of outrage pierced the darkness.
“Oh, I know you have a little crush on me. But why, I don’t know. This is the man I am. Raucous and frivo-lus and a huge disappointment to everyone. Just ask my mothh-er.” Lucius’s slurred words rang out.
“Lucius! What a thing to say,” Charlotte called out.
The voices continued to move away from them, but Miss Spencer’s angry retort could still be heard.
“How about for a change you try and be the man I wish you were. The one I know you could be. Oh, for devil’s sake, come on!” Their voices faded away.
“Should we go after them?” Charlotte asked, her brow scrunched in worry.
“No. Now, where does it hurt?” Daniel demanded. “I could see Lucius hurt you.”
“I’m fine,” she said. But her hand again moved to her solar plexus.
“Stop saying that. For goodness’ sake.” He grabbed her hand. “Which doors lead to the library?”
She pointed vaguely down to the left. Daniel took her hand and led the way down the veranda.
“But we should return to the drawing room. We’ll be missed,” Charlotte protested.
“Not until we fix your corset.”
She stopped in her tracks. “W-what? I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean. Now, please tell me which doors.” He gave her a look he hoped brooked no more argument. She pointed to the next pair of doors down. The lights were off, so it boded well for privacy. He tried the knob, and the door opened silently. He pulled Charlotte into the room, then strode across the room to the other door and turned the lock.
Charlotte lit two candles that sat in a matching pair on the mantel. She turned and held up her hands in defense. “Now, Daniel…”
He marched over to her and turned her by the shoulders so he could access the buttons of her dress.
“Daniel, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, turning her head to frown at him.
“I would think it was obvious. I am undoing your dress.”
“You can’t do that. Daniel!” she twisted to swat at him. But he firmly turned her back to him once more.
“You have spent the whole evening looking like you were about to swoon at any moment. Why would you cinch yourself in so tightly so you cannot breathe? Why do women torture themselves for fashion?”
“It’s not for fashion; it’s for men,” she retorted.
“What? Ludicrous.”
“My mother says a man wants to be able to span a woman’s waist with his hands.”
He finally undid the last blasted button. “What nonsense.” He immediately pulled the ends of the strings to her corset, untying the bow. He roughly loosened each crisscrossed row of ribbon. Hell, he wished he had a knife so he could slice the whole damn thing off.
