The Baron Next Door (Prelude to a Kiss) (13 page)

It had been two days since he’d talked with Charity on the balcony. He had contemplated the conversation a dozen times over, wondering why he had spoken with her, of all people, so freely. He didn’t regret it; it had been unplanned, after all. Just a spontaneous happenstance that had evolved into something . . . intimate. Enjoyable.

But would he regret doing so again tonight? He was breaking his own rules, encouraging a relationship when there should be none.

The sound of footsteps approached, and he turned away from the window and pocketed the coin. Moments later Thomas appeared, his smile broad and his arm outstretched. “Hugh! What an unexpected pleasure. Felicity led me to believe that I’d have to drag you out of your house by your ear if I wished to see you.”

Grinning, Hugh accepted the younger man’s quick embrace, pounding his back in return. “Your sister always was a bit prone to hyperbole. Besides, it wouldn’t do to keep a man of God waiting.”

“And best you don’t forget it,” Thomas said, nodding for emphasis. “I must say, you’re looking good. A damn sight better than the last time I saw you.”

Unfortunately, it was no exaggeration. Thomas’s last visit to the estate had been three years earlier. He was a frequent visitor to Cadgwith when he was younger, but once he entered university, his ability to come see them in the outer reaches of British soil had drastically declined. That was squarely in the middle of Hugh’s darkest time, when pain, anger, regret, and guilt had seemed as inescapable as even the most fortified dungeon. He had not been fit company during that year.

“Thank you, Thomas. Your sister may have actually been right about this place.”

He smiled, his stark black clothes in no way diminishing his devilish grin. “The devil you say. Well, don’t you dare tell her that. It’s sure to go straight to her head.” He gestured toward two fussy chintz chairs and they both took a seat.

“Too right. Wait a second,” Hugh said, quirking an eyebrow, “I’m fairly certain that, as a vicar, you’re not supposed to be cursing anymore.”

Thomas laughed out loud. “Yes. Bloody annoying, that. I do manage to keep it under control when around my flock.”

It was almost impossible to imagine the man leading anyone, let alone a congregation. He was all of twenty-three years old now, and with his white blond hair and pale green eyes, he looked even younger. As far as Hugh could tell, he had yet to even have the hints of a proper beard. Chuckling, Hugh shook his head. “Your poor, poor sheep. Do they know yet that they’ve been fleeced by you?”

“Hey, now,” Thomas protested, more teasing than heat, “I know the Bible as well as the next vicar. I even live by it, on occasion.”

Hugh merely sat back against his chair and laughed. “I’m sure your bishop sleeps well at night knowing that.”

“I’m nothing if not obliging. Speaking of which, I’m grateful he agreed to cover my sermons this month. It feels great to be back in the city. Lucky the Potters had an extra room. I don’t recall there ever being so many people here.”

Groaning, Hugh said, “You can thank the blasted festival for that. It’s as busy as London at the height of the Season, I swear.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Sweet Jesus, man, just think of all the women!”

Laughter, full and hearty, erupted from deep in Hugh’s belly. God, but the man was a walking contradiction. The outrageous second son of the proper Earl of Landowne, living life as a respectable holy man. Hugh shook his head, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. He hadn’t laughed like that in years. The sort of laugh that rumbled deep within, called forth by unfettered joy.

Lightheartedness.

Thomas grinned unapologetically, completely unrepentant. “What? There’s nothing that says a man can’t admire an attractive woman.”

“There is, actually,” Hugh said wryly. “It’s called the tenth commandment.”

Waving a hand, Thomas said, “Semantics. Don’t covet thy neighbor’s wife, maidservant, et cetera, et cetera. I don’t recall ‘Thou shalt not covet a gorgeous woman.’”

“You are definitely missing the point,” Hugh replied. “But that aside, I’m more concerned with the noise, crowds, and traffic.”

“Come now. You’re still a man. Look past the inconveniences and see the possibilities. I, for one, have every intention of finding an accomplished young lady with whom I can be entertained this month. Not like that,” he said, holding up a staying hand at Hugh’s lifted brow. “The company of an entertaining woman is one of God’s greatest gifts to man, as far as I’m concerned. Now that I am away from my own congregation, I see no harm in a bit of innocent flirting.”

Being around Thomas, Hugh could almost recall what it was like to be a young, carefree pup. Though it seemed like a thousand years ago, he had spent many a night carousing with his friends while at university. “Well, you can leave me out of such pursuits.”

The disbelief on Thomas’s face was priceless. “Do you mean to tell me that you have been here for almost a month, and you haven’t yet taken advantage of anything this city has to offer?”

“Of course not. I’ve taken the waters every blasted day since I’ve been here. Bathed at least a dozen times, on top of that.”

“My, what excitement,” Thomas replied drily. “But no parties? No trysts? No stolen moments alone with a blushing young maiden?”

Hugh almost smiled. Thomas couldn’t have better stated how things were between Hugh and Charity if he’d tried. She did tend to blush quite a bit, thanks to her coloring. And their time spent together both in the study and on the balcony had very much been stolen.

Leaning back, Thomas crossed his arms and grinned. “There’s something behind that guarded expression of yours, I’m sure of it. You devil, you—you’ve been holding out on me.”

With a completely straight face, he said, “Your career choice doesn’t do that fantastical imagination of yours justice.” He had no intention of divulging the nature of his relationship to the man—especially when Hugh wasn’t even sure of it himself.

Thomas waved an exasperated hand. “Fine, fine—keep your secrets. I’ve time to discover them yet. In the meantime,” he said, propping an ankle on his opposite knee, “I plan to head to my old club tonight. Care to join me? We need to have a proper toast in honor of your brother. He was a damn fine man.”

Hugh thought of his plans to meet Charity on the balcony tonight. His
ill-conceived
plans. It hadn’t been implicit; merely implied. Granted, overtly implied, but there had been no clear stating of intent. It was damn hard to walk away once they were together, as had been proved in their previous two encounters.

But if he never allowed it to happen in the first place, he could stamp out the growing . . . trust? Friendship? He didn’t know what to call it, but he knew for certain that it couldn’t end well. If he couldn’t turn her away in person, this had to be the next best thing.

“A toast sounds like a great idea. Shall I meet you here or there?”

As they worked out the details of the meeting, he tamped down the self-reproach he already felt about Charity. He was a cowardly bastard to walk away from their plans without warning, although he couldn’t very well send her a note canceling their assignation. Still, she would be furious, and probably a little hurt.

But contrary to the saying, as far as he was concerned, it was much worse to have cared and lost, than never to have cared at all.

T
his was clearly not going to be Charity’s day.

She couldn’t be more out of sorts if she tried.

As the three of them approached the Assembly Rooms, the knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened more and more. Ostensibly, the purpose of this session was to give the committee an idea of the musicians’ abilities and style so they could decide which grouping in which to place them. In order to make the event palatable for the
ton
to participate, there was no audition or competition. However, they all knew that if a musician or musicians weren’t up to the committee’s standards, a way would be found to keep them from performing.

“You’re looking a tad green,” Sophie observed as she slipped her arm through Charity’s and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I hope you aren’t nervous about the audition. Although I suppose we should be, seeing how utterly unusual we shall be, but that is a good thing, is it not?”

She was all sunshine and happiness, wearing one of her signature yellow gowns and smiling gaily as they neared the understated entrance to the limestone building. Charity doubted Sophie had ever known a moment’s nervousness. Excitement, yes, but she was far too outgoing to ever have fear of people paying attention to her.

And she had hit on the exact reason doubt was creeping up on Charity—the sheer unusualness of their trio. What if the judges laughed them out of the room? Or turned their noses up at them?

And, of course, that didn’t even take into consideration the rejection she had endured last night. She had not told the others about it. As much as she trusted them, she hated to admit to anyone that she had foolishly waited for the blasted baron for so long.

She was positively stewing over waiting in vain for Hugh last night. And by now he was Hugh—she no longer thought of him as the detached Lord Cadgwith. They had shared too much between them for that.

So why, then, had he not met her? No note, no warning—just a dark, empty balcony on which she waited for nearly an hour for naught. And what wretched timing, too. Now not only was she hurt and more than a little angry about that, but she had to perform for the very first time in public with their little trio.

Crowds made her uneasy. Being the center of attention made her uncomfortable. And in an area in which she generally had absolute confidence, there was simply no way to know how the selection committee would react to their unconventional sound.

May, tall and elegant in another of her seemingly endless supply of glorious silk gowns, nodded with a confidence Charity envied. “Never, ever be afraid to be different. It is only when we distinguish ourselves from the expected that we make an impression.”

“Oh, I like that,” Sophie said. “Although it’s dangerously close to one of my mother’s idioms. I suppose she can be right some of the time, no?”

They had a point, of course. If she could set aside her lingering disappointment over last night, she likely was overreacting. All of their practices had gone quite well, with the one this morning proving that they were more than ready for this. Even Sophie, who had initially struggled with her part, had mastered it by their last rehearsal. The piece was superior, the musicians well matched. Their only danger now lay in how open-minded the committee would be about being presented with an altered classic work. She liked to think it was improved, but it was possible they could feel it had been bastardized.

Especially with Marianne’s father sitting on the committee.

They reached the entrance, and Charity paused to draw a calming breath. “All right,” she said, straightening both her spine and her resolve. “Let us do well, ladies. If we are to make an impression, I very much hope it is a
good
one.”

As they entered the building, Mr. Green looked up from his little desk situated beside the door. “Ah, the trio.” Sarcasm rounded the
o
at the end of his sentence.

“Yes, the
trio
,”
May echoed, her chin tipped up in pride. “Present and on time, as I’m sure you have noted.”

He looked over the rims of his spectacles at her. “You are early, actually. The committee will call for you on the hour, as promised. Do feel free to avail yourselves of a seat in the meantime.” He nodded to the room at large, then turned his attention back to his work.

Ugh, he was such a disagreeable man
.
Charity turned to the room, the knot still present and accounted for in her stomach. She really did not wish to sit in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs for the next ten minutes—she was entirely too anxious to sit still. Already her companions were moving toward the seating. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to step outside for a moment to enjoy the fresh air. I’ll stay close to the door.”

Sophie’s brow pinched. “Oh. Well, we’ll come with you.” She started to retrieve the shawl and packet of music she had just set down, but Charity held up her hand.

“Don’t be silly—I’ll be right outside the door. You two make yourselves comfortable.”

“If you’re sure. Don’t go running off and leaving us a duet, however. We shall never forgive you if abandon us.” She winked, her dimples bracketing both sides of her mouth.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Charity teased, happy for the levity. “However, I promise not to escape.”
She
at least could be counted on to follow up with her commitments.

Ignoring Mr. Green’s raised eyebrow, she stepped back outside onto the pavement and exhaled. This was ridiculous. She had not been so nervous since her first ball, but at least then she had had the presence of Richard and his family to calm any uneasiness. Truly, in the earl’s presence, it was almost impossible to feel insecure.

She breathed deeply of the warm air, happy for the moment of peace. The rain the day before had brought in some welcome cooler weather, with blue skies above and bright sunshine lying across her shoulders.

The area was significantly quieter than it had been the first time she had been here. The street beyond was still quite busy, but the pavement was nearly empty, thanks to the lull between morning bathers and afternoon festivalgoers. According to Grandmama, who had availed herself of the Baths several times since her arrival, the infirm had generally come and gone by ten or so, in accordance with the doctors’ insistence that the greatest benefit from the waters was to be had first thing in the morning.

A person approached from the east, a solitary gentleman who appeared to be in no hurry at all. His figure was tall and lean, with narrow hips and long legs encased in buff-colored breeches that disappeared into the tops of his polished black Hessians. For a moment, all thoughts of the committee fled as she admired the man’s unexpectedly fine form. He drew closer, and though his eyes were blocked by the brim of his hat, she saw the scars feathering down the side of his face and disappearing under his cravat.

Lord Cadgwith.
Hugh
.

Her jaw immediately clenched as the knot of anxiety yanked tight within her. She was angry enough that she wanted to confront him, to demand to know why he had left her out in the dark when clearly there had been an understanding between them. But, a small, rational part of her resisted. This was the city center at midday; she most certainly did not need to air her grievances in such a public place.

He continued toward her, and she retreated farther into the small, covered recess at the Assembly Room door, willing him not to see her. What was he doing out this early, anyway? Didn’t he prefer to sleep the mornings away? And where would he be going with his hair wet like that? She tilted her head, squinting as a thought occurred to her. He wasn’t going somewhere—he was headed in the direction of home. But where would he . . .

All at once, realization washed over her. Had he been at the
Baths
?

Old people and the infirm made use of the waters—not the young and well. He lifted his head then, and his expression made her blink in surprise. He looked . . . content. More relaxed than she had ever seen him—especially in the full light of day. So much so that he was almost unrecognizable. She’d seen him quiet, she’d seen him exhausted, she’d even seen him somewhat teasing. But she had certainly never seen him completely at ease.

His lips were curled up with a sort of effortlessness, as if such a state was natural. For once, his shoulders were without any tension. She shook her head—she just couldn’t believe it was the same man.

It was a transformation that made his countenance so much more appealing, her heart actually fluttered a few beats. She swallowed; she really needed to get a grip on herself. He may be handsome, but he was still Lord Cadgwith. And she was still furious with him.

Even so, she took advantage of the moment, studying his features. His damp hair looked like bottled honey, a rich, dark golden blond that shone in the sunlight, with the overlong strands curling past the crisp white fabric of his cravat. The smudges beneath his eyes didn’t seem as dark as usual. It could be the bright day, but she didn’t think so.

Her gaze shifted to his bisected eyebrow. She contemplated the scars again, chewing the inside of her cheek as she wondered again what violence had befallen him. Yes, it was likely a war wound, but what had caused it?

And how much did it have to do with the wounded heart Grandmama had so keenly observed?

That would, of course, be the moment that he noticed her. His gaze flickered to hers as he passed, the intensity of the green startling in the brilliant sunlight. She abruptly released her cheek, doing her best to not look as though she had been studying him like some sort of foreign specimen. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was somehow pining for him.

His step faltered and she could sense his indecision on whether to acknowledge her or not. She was embarrassed at having been caught staring, plus she was still angry enough that she would be perfectly fine if he just kept walking right on past her. But she had no such luck. His lips turned up further in a determined smile—
not
natural—and he dipped his head in greeting. “Good day, Miss Effington. I hope you are well.”

“Do you? I wasn’t aware that you gave any care as to my state of well-being.” Not the way she intended to start a conversation, but her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. So much for not airing her grievances in the street.

His face tightened, as did his shoulders, and suddenly she was looking at the same Lord Cadgwith she had known for almost three weeks. His joy, whatever the cause, would never be for her. “My apologies. If I could have sent you a note, I would have, but it did not seem prudent to do so.”

Such a nice, calm answer, yet all it did was stir up her ire. How galling to know that something she had looked so forward to was an easily forgotten appointment to him. One tossed aside in favor of something more interesting.

“What, I wonder, was so important that you were unable to attend?” It was quite possibly one of the rudest questions she had ever asked, but she didn’t feel particularly bad about it just then. If they had stumbled upon each other after the rehearsal, she might not have been so sharp. The day just seemed to be getting worse by the moment.

He tilted his head, eyeing her as one might a slightly unstable bedlamite. “You do realize we never had an actual agreement. It was implied at best.”

Is that how things were going to be? Her arms crossed protectively over her chest, but she didn’t look away. “Implied by you, I may point out. You know full well that there was an expectation between us. To say otherwise demeans us both.”

Her heart fluttered away in her chest like a scrap of paper caught in the wind. She absolutely hated confrontation; the fact that she would engage in it now spoke volumes about her state of mind.

He sighed, giving a shallow nod. “Fair enough. I wonder, Miss Effington. Did it occur to you how such a meeting—assignation, if you will—would be interpreted should anyone discover it? In the harsh light of day, such a thing seemed terribly ill-advised.” His eyes softened, and he leaned forward a bit. “I like you, Charity. I do not wish for harm to come to your reputation. To either of our reputations, really.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of her name on his lips. She gaped at him, her ears suddenly ringing like a perfectly struck tuning fork. Had he really just called her Charity? She couldn’t believe it. They were on the pavement in the center of town, for goodness’ sake! Warmth stole up her cheeks as she stared up at him.

Was that how he thought of her?

For a moment, he seemed confused by her reaction, but a second later pressed his eyes closed and blew out a harsh breath. Leveling his gaze on her once more he said. “My apologies, Miss Effington. A slip of the tongue.”

A slip of the tongue, indeed. She was so shocked, she could do little more than bob her head in acceptance of his apology. When he thought of her, was it as Charity, as a woman, and not just the neighbor Miss Effington? Over and over he had pushed her away, only to draw her closer the next time they met. Every time, she became a little more invested. A little more interested.

A little more breathless when he was near.

He shook his head, giving a humorless little laugh. “I don’t know why I continually misstep around you. All the more reason to pay special attention to propriety from now on. I do hope you can forgive my clumsy handling of last night.”

The door to the hall swung open, and Sophie popped her head out. “Come on, Charity, they’re calling us. Oh!” she exclaimed as her eyes darted to where Hugh stood. “Lord Cadgwith, I didn’t see you. I hope all is well,” she said, her gaze going back and forth between them as though picking up on the charge in the air between them.

“I’ll be there in one second, Sophie. Thank you.”

“But—”

“I
promise
,” Charity said, widening her eyes for emphasis.

Understanding dawned and Sophie straightened. “Oh yes, of course. No problem at all. I’ll just be, er, inside. Waiting.” With an awkward little wave, she ducked back inside, leaving them alone.

Charity turned her attention back to the baron, who stood ramrod straight only a few short steps away. He looked wary and conflicted and so handsome in the sunshine, her heart couldn’t seem to remember its normal rhythm. “Lord Cadgwith,” she said, looking directly into his eyes, “I wish you could see that I do, in fact, make a very good friend. And with the minor exception of a broken betrothal, I have lived my life remarkably scandal-free. Do me a favor and have a little faith in me.”