What Not to Bare: A Loveswept Historical Romance (12 page)

“Begin,” she repeated, only slower, as though he himself were slow. “I want to begin exploring things and having you answer my questions as soon as we possibly can.” She tapped her finger against her mouth as she thought. “I can tell my mother I am going to the museum and come here instead.” A pause. “It’s settled.”

Settled, even though he hadn’t contributed anything to the discussion, and the thought of having her, here asking her probing questions, was enough to make him want to tell Lord Bradford the assignment was impossible and perhaps he should just send him off to New South Wales. Where he couldn’t get into any trouble.

“Fine,” he said, instead of any of the rebuttals coursing through his mind.

Why had he said that? What was it about her that made him lose his calm?

He had no clue, just that she did, and he did, and they were set on some sort of course that might end in disaster. Or with both of them naked.

Which was likely the very same thing.

“Thank you for the information,” Charlotte said, holding her hand out to David. As though they hadn’t been in that room over there just a few moments ago, locked in a kiss that was even better than the Kiss.

Charlotte’s maid and David’s whatever-he-was had been duly fetched, along with Charlotte’s coat. She made certain to keep her heart with her at all times, since the last thing she needed—and the last thing he wanted—was to leave her heart with him.

This was discovery and enjoyment, nothing more. She needed information to write the column, he was delightful to look at, and she found pleasure in his company. Nothing more.

She leaned in to speak as close to his ear as possible. Given that he was so much taller than she, she found herself speaking to just below his shoulder. “I will be here in the afternoon. Say around four o’clock tomorrow?”

He nodded, compressing his lips into a thin line. And why was he upset? He was the one who’d made her promise to only ask him her questions.

Why he was so adamant on the subject, she wasn’t certain. But if it meant she got to be with him, not to mention kiss him—why, she would invent questions if she ever ran out of her own.

A situation she highly doubted would happen, given her curiosity and the need to write that column. She could confide in him about why she needed to know certain things, but what was the fun in that? It was far more enjoyable to ask him things that made his eyes go wide and his expression grow befuddled.

Not to mention spending time with him.

“Thank you for the visit, Lady Charlotte.” He took her coat from his servant and held it out for her. She slid her arms through and sensed, rather than felt, the tension between them as their bodies moved closer.

A delicious tension, it should be said.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replied, knowing she meant exactly what she said.
“Come along, Sarah.” The Indian servant opened the door, and she and her maid walked out, both of them glancing about to make sure they weren’t seen.

“What were you doing while Lord David and I were talking?” Charlotte asked, wanting to add,
and kissing, and oh goodness, did you know kissing was so amazing?

“He gave me tea. I’ve never had tea as good as that before, miss. It was delicious. He said it came from where he and the master came from. The area, I mean, not just India itself.”

“It sounds incredible. I will have to ask Lord David for some next time we are there.”

“So we will be there again?” Sarah sounded almost pleased. Interesting. She would have to ask about that, too, later on.

“Yes, I wanted to speak to you about that before we got home. You see, Lord David and I have many things in common.” The subterfuge came easier to her the second time around. “Of course, it would be scandalous for me to visit him on my own. But we cannot meet otherwise, except at parties, and they are so crowded and full of people—the definition of crowded, you’d have to say—and it is hard to converse on any subject without interruption.” She paused. And cleared her throat, of course. “So you and I will say we are going to the museum, only we will be going to Lord David’s instead. I can trust you will be discreet?”

Sarah nodded. “Of course. You know I need this position.”

Charlotte halted in her tracks. “I would never threaten you with loss of employment for any reason, Sarah. Have I ever given you that impression?”

Sarah shook her head. “No, miss, of course not. I didn’t mean that you would let me go if I said anything—which I won’t. I need this position, but I also
like
this position. Even if,” she said, rolling her eyes at Charlotte’s hat, “you don’t always listen to me.”

“If by ‘don’t always’ you mean ‘never,’ then you’re right. I am glad you are happy working for me, though. Please know that you can come to me with anything.”

Sarah nodded. “Yes, miss. And I will be sure to keep quiet about visiting Lord David.”

“Mr. Gorgeous,” Charlotte said in a soft whisper to herself. And laughed at the thought of it all over again.

***

“Charlotte!”

Her uncle Bradford enfolded her in a hug as she stepped in the door. He smelled of tobacco, and clean wool, and intrigue.

That last might have been her imagination, since her uncle did something mysterious for a profession, something that necessitated his being away for months at a time, even though he was wealthy enough not to work.

“Hello, Uncle,” she said in a muffled voice, her face smashed against his chest. She pulled back and looked up into his face. “How are you? Why didn’t I know you were coming to visit?”

He beamed down at her, the brown eyes that looked just like hers twinkling with a zest and a joy for living she also recognized.

“I didn’t know myself. I was passing by, and had some time, and thought I should stop by to see my favorite niece.”

“I am your only niece,” she reminded him, poking him in the chest. He laughed and grabbed her finger.

“I am so glad you are home, Charlotte. Where have you been?” her mother said, popping up from behind her uncle’s width.

“The miss wanted to see some of the art she didn’t get to see at the museum yesterday, my lady,” Sarah replied before Charlotte could even think of a lie.

“Yes, that’s it.” And whatever you say, I will not let you know I was off kissing the most stunning man I have ever seen in my life without the remotest chance of marrying him, Charlotte reminded herself.

“Come into the salon, I will ring for tea,” her mother said, gesturing to where their butler stood holding the door. “You should see Charlotte at the parties, Bernard. She is getting quite popular. Already one man—a Mr. Goddard—has indicated his interest, and last night at the Millers’, my girl did not have a dance free.”

Her uncle smiled as though he had a secret. Of course, he looked like that most days, due to his mysterious and secretive goings-on, doing whatever it was he did.

They sat in the salon, Charlotte next to her uncle on the sofa and her mother
opposite. “Tell me more about Charlotte’s success,” her uncle said, rubbing his hands together. “Are we thinking she will make some gentleman very happy soon?”

Her mother pursed her lips and gave Charlotte a sharp glance. “She will be married by the end of the Season. We have agreed.”

Charlotte felt her heart constrict as though her mother had tightened a noose about it. She wanted to deny her mother’s statement, but knew that her mother would only make things harder for her if she didn’t at least appear to be going along. She had to find a way out of what her mother suggested without causing a huge rift, or having to marry somebody whose sole recommendation was that he was not Mr. Goddard.

“Good, good. Are there any particular gentlemen who have caught your eye, my dear?” her uncle asked.

Caught my eye—and then kissed me on the mouth, Charlotte answered in her mind.

Her mother was still speaking, and of course the name caught her attention. “Lord David Marchston is back in London, do you remember him? He has been very courteous in asking Charlotte to dance and paying her particular attention.”

Her uncle smiled as though in satisfaction. “I do know him. He and I have had occasion to correspond, and I saw him when I was in India a few years ago. A very nice fellow. And not bad to look at, eh, Charlotte?”

Perhaps her uncle was employed in understating the obvious.

“No, he is quite nice to look at. And so polite.”

“He’ll be heading back to India after the Season, I believe. He’s been invaluable there. It will be good to have him back at work.”

The plot—what there was of it—had thickened. So not only did her uncle do something mysterious, it seemed David did, too, and the two of them did mysterious things together. She would definitely have to put that on the list of questions she would ask David when she saw him next.

Right after such intriguing items as “Can you kiss me again?” and “What else is there for us to do?”

“Returning to India,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Such a shame. It would be lovely if he were to settle here and get married.” That her mother didn’t even look at
Charlotte with anything close to a knowing look was disheartening. She’d even raised her eyebrows and asked Charlotte how she’d feel if she had the chance to be queen when she heard the prince was on the hunt for a bride.

Not that she wanted to marry David, but it would be nice if her mother thought she even had a chance.

“Lord David thrives on what he is doing. He would hate to be trapped here, either in country … or with a wife.” Her uncle swatted Charlotte on the knee. “And he has proven himself to be quite a gentleman, paying special attention to my Charlotte.”

It was a good thing her uncle didn’t fully comprehend just how special the attention was. Unless—this was a lowering thought—unless David was paying special attention to other ladies?

In which case the attention wasn’t special at all. Common attention, that would be. Could that mean he didn’t view it the same way she did? As the most wonderful, marvelous thing they could be doing together? Maybe it was just something to occupy his time.

If that were so, she shouldn’t feel bad about using him to get the information she wanted. That she needed. That is, if neither of them had expectations, and this was a common occurrence for him, then she needn’t worry he would feel as though she were just taking advantage of him.

So while she might feel piqued if this was just another event in his day, she wouldn’t have to feel guilty or concerned that he would develop a sense of obligation toward her.

It would just be a task. Hopefully a pleasant one, but a task nonetheless.

“Have you met Lady Radnor?” Her mother frowned. “She is also just returned from India. A recent widow.”

Her uncle jerked upright, then settled back down again. “No, I hadn’t heard. I knew her and her late husband also.” And then he made a
hmph
ing sort of noise that made Charlotte wish to find out immediately what he was
hmph
ing about.

“She is very beautiful,” Charlotte said. Perhaps he would let something slip. “Do you know if she and Lord David were acquainted also?”

Triumph! Her uncle shifted in his seat and made another of those noises. “I
believe they’ve met,” her uncle said stiffly.

“And is it a coincidence that Lady Radnor is here at the same time as Lord David?” her mother asked.

Charlotte hadn’t realized where her own inquisitive nature had come from until just that moment.

“It definitely is a coincidence. They were merely slight acquaintances, that is all,” her uncle said. Of course, the way he said it convinced Charlotte their acquaintance was anything but slight.

Why would he spend time kissing Charlotte if he could be spending his time kissing Lady Radnor?

Another question. At this rate, she would have to persuade her mother she actually wanted to become a marble statue and live at the museum, for all the times she would have to visit David.

“We’ve spent enough time discussing people who aren’t you, Charlotte,” her uncle said. It was a clear attempt to change the subject, since her uncle enjoyed gossip nearly as much as his sister did. “Tell me, what do you call that color you have on?”

Charlotte glanced down at her gown and felt a giggle tickling the back of her throat. “Frog green, I think. At least,” she said, pulling one of the ribbons dangling from her sleeve, “that is what the dressmaker called it. Only in French, so it was
grenouille vert
. Frog green,” she said again, just in case her uncle wasn’t clear on what she was translating.

“Frog,” her mother repeated in a soft whisper. “Paired with purple gloves.” Her expression had turned to one that Charlotte would have expected if an actual frog had hopped out from behind one of the sofa cushions. “Charlotte, you have such interesting taste.”

Thank goodness her mother was being polite today.

“Will you stay for supper? We’re not going out tonight, are we?” Charlotte said, turning to her mother.

“No, not this evening. I thought we all needed a rest. We have a masquerade to attend tomorrow night. I cannot wait to see what Charlotte chooses to wear,” her mother added in a voice that made it clear she meant precisely the opposite.

“I cannot,” her uncle replied, getting up from the sofa. “And, in fact, I must leave.”

“So soon?”

“Yes, some business has come up that needs my attention.”

What possible business could have come up while … Oh. Now she was really intrigued. And wondered how she could find out what the mystery was without David reneging on their agreement.

It would be a question for herself, then.