Charles still looks sick, but it's in a grim, determined sort of way. He knocks back the rest of his whisky and signals for another before standing up and facing me head on.
"All right," he says, his voice heavy and a little slurred from all the drinks he's probably had today. "You're right, we do need to do this. Let's go somewhere private, though. We can't talk here, right in front of the dance floor."
He grabs the fresh whisky the bartender places in front of him and gestures for me to follow him out of the room. I do, peeking behind me as I go to see if Marcus has noticed where I've gone. He's surrounded by a knot of society ladies and is chatting avidly with them, without a spare glance for me.
Satisfied, I hurry to follow Charles out of the ballroom. He's paused in the doorway, l
