The Christmas Heiress (21 page)

For an instant, Charlotte could not catch her
breath. She took out her fan and waved it before her
face to hide her expression, unsure if she was shielding her reaction from the other guests or specifically
from the earl.

She turned back to her grandfather, her cheeks
faintly hot, and tried to concentrate on his conversation. But she barely heard a word. She noticed
the countess in earnest conversation with Lady
Anne, who was an excellent pianist, and wondered
if that meant there would be impromptu dancing if
Lady Anne could be persuaded to play for them all.

Dinner had concluded a bit earlier this evening
and most of the guests seemed to be finished partaking of the coffee and tea that were served after
it. But instead of dancing, the women decided on a
musical interlude, and began organizing the order
in which they would perform.

"Shall I put your name forward?" her grandfather asked.

"Not this evening. I shall sit and be entertained
by listening to the other ladies' efforts," Charlotte
replied, smiling at his loyalty.

Though he had hired the best music instructors
in the land to teach his granddaughter, Charlotte
had never been disciplined enough to practice on
any of the various instruments Lord Reginald had
bought with any regularity. To please him, she eventually mastered three pretty but simple piano pieces,
but beyond that, she could barely play a note.

Charlotte settled herself comfortably on one of
the green brocade settees located near the windows
on the far side of the room, moving to one side to
allow her grandfather a seat. He joined her, but she
soon noted his attention was on the card table
positioned in the corner.

"You should join Lord Haddon's game," Charlotte urged. "There is room for one more."

"Perhaps later," Lord Reginald said, patting her
hand affectionately. "I do not wish to leave you on
your own.

Charlotte appreciated her grandfather's good
manners, but after a few minutes it was clear he was
doing a poor job of concealing his interest in the
gaming.

"Go," she insisted. "I shall be fine on my own."

She shooed him off with a wave of her hand and
after another half-hearted protest, Lord Reginald
leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "You
are a good girl, Charlotte."

"Woman," she corrected in a mock tone of annoyance, rekindling a familiar battle between them.

Lord Reginald gave her a misty-eyed smile. "You
will always be my darling girl, no matter how old we
both get."

Charlotte grinned with affection and watched
Lord Reginald leave. Then she sat back and looked
around, wondering when the music would begin.
Lady Haddon sat in front of the piano, poised to
play, but a group of ladies were gathered around
her, all eagerly sorting through sheets of music.

Jonathan was in the middle of the boisterous gang,
trying to act as some sort of organizer, but the
women were all aflutter, cackling like a flock of country hens. Miss Montgomery was there too, but she
held herself apart from the others, both physically
and emotionally.

Charlotte felt a twinge of sympathy for the young
woman's situation, and wondered if she had read
Jonathan's letter of poetry yet, wondered if the sentiments had pleased her. Or if they had made her
long for things that would never be.

Charlotte's gaze drifted away from the women
and settled on the men. She tried to keep her attention away from the earl, who was clustered in conversation with several other gentleman, but her
eyes kept straying in his direction.

He was dressed in formal evening black, accented
by a stark white shirt, vest and cravat, as were the
other gentlemen, but on the earl the clothes seemed
more dignified. He laughed at something Lord
Bradford said, then excused himself and began to
make his way across the room.

When she realized he was coming toward her,
Charlotte sat up straighter and shifted uneasily on
the cushions.

"May I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the
empty spot on the settee beside her.

"Please do," she replied, sliding over.

He sat down and leaned back, draping his arm
across the camelback of the settee. Charlotte tried
to smile and make pleasant small talk, but it was difficult to concentrate with his hand so near the nape
of her exposed neck.

Fortunately, the room soon filled with the sweet
strains of a waltz, making conversation optional.
There was polite applause when Lady Haddon finished her piece and Lady Anne took her place. This
time it was a lively, baroque tune that echoed through
the room, showcasing the older woman's talents and
nimble fingers. Even the gentlemen at the card table
momentarily halted their play to listen fully.

Inclining his head toward Charlotte, the earl
whispered, "At least they are not playing Christmas
carols again."

She turned to him in surprise. "Do you dislike
carols?"

"Not usually," he answered with a twinkle in his
eye. "But you must admit it does get tiresome hearing them several times a day."

Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek to keep from
smiling. "You are not showing the proper Christmas
spirit, my lord. If you keep this up, in short order
you will be grumbling, `Bah-humbug' like Mr. Dickens's Ebenezer Scrooge."

"There are worse things in the world," he said
philosophically. "Besides, Mr. Scrooge was properly
redeemed by the end of the story."

"Ahh, so there is hope for you after all," Charlotte said, giving the room a cursory glance. "It appears that Miss Dunaway is going to play the next
piece. Perhaps you would like to turn the pages of
her music, my lord?"

"There are other gentlemen anxious for the opportunity," he observed. "I shall let them do the
honors. And I do wish you would call me Edward.
`My lord' is much too formal, especially given our
long acquaintance."

"I suppose I could bring myself to call you Worthington," Charlotte quipped, feeling inordinately
pleased that he was so disinterested in Miss Dunaway.

A shadow of distress crossed his face. "'Tis an odd
thing to inherit a new name along with a title. In
my mind, my father will always be Worthington.
There are rare times even now when someone calls
the name and I expect to see him standing in the
room. Which is why I prefer that my most intimate
acquaintances call me Edward."

She felt a flash of sympathy. "What would people
say if I acted so improperly and began calling you
Edward?" she asked with gentle compassion.

He pulled himself together. "Since when do you
care what others think and do only what is proper?"

"You are remembering me as a girl. People do
change as they mature."

"Yes, but not always for the better." He gave her a
petulant look. "You call my brother Jonathan."

"That is different."

"How? "

"He is my friend."

The earl's eyes widened. "You mortally wound
me. Jonathan is your friend, yet I am not. Why?"

Because my stomach does not turn into butterflies at the
mere sight of your brother. The words sprang into her mind, but fortunately were left unspoken. "Since it
is so important to you, I shall call you Edward whenever there is no one else within hearing distance,"
she said with a sly grin.

"Excellent. Then we must arrange to spend
some time alone together. Are you free tomorrow
afternoon?"

At that, Charlotte's mouth fell open. "Time
alone? Without a proper chaperone? What a scandalous suggestion, my lord."

"Edward. "

"My lord," she intoned forcefully.

"If you are so mortally offended, then why are
you smiling?"

Charlotte sent him a quelling look. "I am not
smiling. I am in shock."

"You are smiling," he insisted. "I do not understand why you must immediately conclude that I am
intent on something improper." He leaned close
and whispered in her ear, "I can assure you that I
have not had a drop of spirits tonight. I drank only
water with dinner and tea afterward."

She tilted her head to one side. "Why would I be
concerned about the amount of spirits you have
consumed?"

"You accused me the other day of only wanting to
kiss you when I have been drinking. Tonight, I have
proved that statement false because I have not been
drinking and still very much want to kiss you."

She smiled at him, her heart beating fast at the
rush of excitement, the allure of the forbidden
and improper. He was flirting with her! She waited
until the last piano piece had been played. Then
concealing her fluttering emotions behind a casual expression of indifference, she leaned forward
and whispered, "Good night, Edward."

An answering grin flickered at the corner of his
lips. He stood, executed a formal bow and replied,
"Dream of me tonight, Charlotte."

Sleep eluded Charlotte that night. Erotic visions of
the earl, visions she did not completely understand,
filled her mind. After tossing and turning restlessly
for over an hour, Charlotte gave up the struggle.

Turning up the lamp she reached for the volume
of poetry she kept beside her bed. Love sonnets.
Not a good choice, given her current frame of
mind. What she really needed was a dull, boring
tome to lull her into sleep.

Knowing exactly what she needed could be found
in the multi-volumed library on the lower floor,
Charlotte climbed down from the four-poster bed,
threw on a dressing gown and crept silently from
the chamber. The household appeared to be asleep,
with no guests or servants in evidence.

The candle she carried offered ample light, but
Charlotte was relieved the hallways were lit by the
occasional sconce. She turned into the long corridor and began counting the doors, pleased she remembered the overall layout of the house.

A feeling of hushed reverence stole over her as she
entered the library. The sight of so many leatherbound volumes brought her an odd sense of comfort. A low fire still burned in the grate, offering
some warmth but little additional light. With eager
fingers she began scanning the titles on the lower shelf, her eyes alert to anything that might be
of interest.

She fully intended to choose something dull
tonight, but was also hoping to discover something
exciting she would take to read tomorrow. Enjoying
her search, Charlotte had no real idea of how much
time had passed before she realized she was no
longer alone. A sound, a breath, a feeling entered
her awareness, causing her heart to skip a beat.

With a start of surprise, Charlotte turned around
and saw the earl standing in the library doorway.
His long, lean figure filled the space.

"I am sorry I startled you. I saw the light and
came to investigate."

He was still dressed in his formal evening attire,
but there were signs of uncharacteristic dishevelment that she found remarkably alluring. His coat
was missing, his vest was open, the knot of his white
silk cravat was untied, the ends hanging on either
side of his neck, and the buttons at the top of his
shirt were undone. She could see his exposed, naked
throat and a few strands of dark hair curling at the
top of his chest.

It was by far the most erotic moment of Charlotte's
life.

She remained mute, her mind in a jumbled state
of turmoil, her body sharp with anticipation. The
earl too remained very still, staring intently at her,
a strange expression on his face. Charlotte wanted
to reach down and make certain her dressing gown
was still properly fastened, but she resisted the gesture, knowing that it was indeed closed, and not
wanting to draw even greater attention to her state
of undress.

It took a few moments to realize it was her hair
that intrigued him so much. She had told her maid
to leave it upbraided and it was now unbounded
and unruly, flowing down her back in honey-gold
disarray. The earl seemed incapable of pulling his
eyes away from it.

"Your hair is very beautiful," he said huskily.

A frisson of heat ran down her spine at the sound
of his voice. Charlotte stood up straighter, her
nerves on full alert. "Thank you."

In the sparse light of the lone candle, she studied
his face for a long moment. The chiseled features,
strong jaw, bold nose, enthralling amber eyes. He
was a beautiful man.

"I should leave," he stated simply.

"Yes," she agreed, wetting her dry lips.

Neither moved a muscle.

Whether she was willing to admit it or not, deep
down she wanted him, as she had six years ago. Was
it passion? Lust? Or love?

Charlotte had no idea.

"We appear to be at a strange impasse, Charlotte.
Unable to move forward until we settle our past."

She did not pretend to misunderstand. Though
she had privately and publicly forgiven him for the
incident all those years ago, part of it remained unresolved. "It hurt when you rejected me," Charlotte
admitted a bit unsteadily. "I am not an individual
who is used to being denied."

"It did not escape my notice that you seemed to
somehow always get what you wanted."

Charlotte narrowed her gaze. "Are you calling
me spoiled?"

"I am agreeing with your observation."

Though initially feeling insulted, his smile was so
sincere and disarming, it was impossible for her to
take offense.

"Well, it therefore stands to reason that the desire
for something denied would grow stronger with the
passing of time, becoming more and more irresistible," she said calmly. "Hence my continued fascination with you."

His smile widened with amusement. "Ahh, so
now I am irresistible?"

Exasperated, Charlotte raised her eyes to the ceiling.
"I am trying to be reasonable, logical, in understanding this strange attraction I seem to have for you."

"It is very much a mutual attraction."

Her heart quickened at the tender expression in
his eyes. "'Tis not easy for me to acknowledge my
emotions," she admitted. "I resented you for a very
long time."