Читать книгу One Week To Wed - Laurie Benson, Laurie Benson - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Settling into the comfortable wing-backed chair, Charlotte accepted a cup of tea from her friend Ann after their walk around the windy garden of Ann’s stately home in the Cheshire countryside.

‘Thank you again for your invitation to dine here tonight,’ Charlotte said. ‘Since Lizzy’s recent departure, the house seems unusually quiet. One would think I would be accustomed to the silence, but for some reason I’m feeling it rather acutely at the moment.’

‘I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,’ Ann replied with a smile, pouring tea into her Wedgwood teacup. ‘Since Toby invited one of his friends to stay with us, I am grateful for your companionship. Tonight, they went to dine in the village.’ She added a splash of milk to her cup. ‘You never did say why Lizzy decided to leave. I thought she would be staying longer.’

‘She had some estate matters to attend to in London.’ Charlotte was certain Lizzy’s hasty departure had more to do with searching out the Duke of Winterbourne’s brother before any other woman grabbed his attention than it did with her solicitor, but she was not about to betray her sister’s interest in the man.

Disapproval was evident on Ann’s face. ‘I know Lizzy. She’s too social a creature. Do you truly believe she will not attend any entertainments while she is there?’

That was the very concern Charlotte expressed while Lizzy was having trunk after trunk of her wardrobe brought out of Charlotte’s house and into her awaiting carriage. Lizzy had always been headstrong. Nothing was going to change that. All Charlotte could do was try to minimise the reactions people like Ann were bound to exhibit at the news. ‘It’s been four months,’ she replied, trying to sound as if that was a perfectly acceptable amount of time to wait before returning to Society.

‘Four months is not a year. She should be in mourning for a year.’

‘I’m aware of that. However, you can be as unconventional as you wish when you are a duchess.’

‘I suppose that is one advantage she had being married to him.’ Ann took a sip of tea and stared off into the distance, as if she were considering what it must have been like to be married to such an old man.

‘Lizzy has assured me she will just be attending the theatre and going to dinner parties. She certainly will not be marrying until a year has passed.’

The last statement was said more to appease Ann than because Charlotte actually believed it. If the Duke of Winterbourne’s brother asked for her hand the day she arrived back in London, she was certain Lizzy would accept, regardless of how close it was to Skeffington’s death. If they did get married, Charlotte would finally learn what the man’s name was. It was just like Lizzy to identify the man by the most prestigious thing about him and not by his name.

‘Everyone always said you three Sommersby sisters were all so different from one another.’

Charlotte shrugged. ‘Lizzy is eager to move forward with her life.’

‘She isn’t the only one who should move forward with her life.’ Ann arched her brow and a teasing smile played on her lips. ‘Do not roll your eyes. I am simply stating it is time for you to put the past behind you and look towards your future, as well. You are a beautiful, caring woman. Any man would be fortunate to have you as his wife.’ She took Charlotte’s hand in hers. ‘We all know you loved Jonathan. It’s a tragedy he never made it back from the war, but you have many years ahead of you to find love again.’

Why was it still necessary to defend her love for Jonathan to the people who professed to care about her? No one fell in love twice in a lifetime. ‘That part of my life is over. I am fortunate I do not need to marry again. I do not need excess extravagances like my sister does. I have simpler tastes.’

‘I wasn’t speaking of your financial situation and you know that. Although, if you were to find a wealthy man, it would not be a hardship.’ Ann gave a low chuckle.

They had discussed this before. Nothing would change. ‘How long will Toby’s friend be visiting? I wish to know how many days of excuses I will need to prepare myself with, should you need more company for dinner.’

Amusement sparkled in Ann’s blue eyes. ‘He will be staying with us for a fortnight. You certainly cannot find excuses for all of those days.’

‘I pray I will be fortunate and the gentlemen will discover they’d much rather dine at home each night and you will not be in need of companionship.’

‘I still could invite you to dine with us.’

‘And I can then freely decline, knowing you are not sitting all alone with a leg of mutton.’

‘It has been rather nice seeing Toby’s joy in being with his old friend.’

‘Have I met the gentleman before?’

Ann shook her head. ‘No. The last time Toby saw him was about six years ago. His name is Lord Andrew Pearce. They attended Cambridge together.’ Her eyes widened and she leaned forward. ‘I looked for him in Debrett’s.’

‘Please, I beg you, do not tell me of his lineage. I’ve spent the last four months with Lizzy. I’m convinced she has memorised the contents of that book and freely refers to the people she associates with solely by their most prestigious familial connection. I’ve had enough of titles to last a lifetime.’

Ann settled back in her chair with a laugh. ‘Very well. I’m sure you have.’

‘Where does Toby’s friend live? Six years is a long time not to see one another.’

‘London. Toby has visited him there on a few occasions, however Lord Andrew hasn’t had an opportunity to travel this way. I met him for the first time when he arrived this morning. They spent most of the afternoon shooting and this evening they went into the village for dinner. Toby was so eager to spend time with him, I didn’t have the heart to tell him they were being rude by leaving me home to dine by myself.’

‘What is your impression of Lord Andrew so far?’

‘I confess he is not what I expected. I assumed him to be a rather scholarly type. One who had his nose in books the way Toby does.’

‘And?’

‘And, he appears to be the type of man one finds in the village on race days or, I imagine, in a boxing ring at the local fair.’

Just as Charlotte was about to reply, the sound of Toby’s voice drifted in through the open doorway, followed by a deep rumbling sound that must have been the muffled reply of his friend. Intrigued by the image Ann had painted of Lord Andrew, Charlotte stared at the open doorway to catch a glimpse of him.

Toby came into view first and smiled when he spotted them. He looked neat and tidy with his blond hair cut very short and his narrow frame encased in brown breeches and a cinnamon-coloured wool coat. Then she caught sight of his friend—and her breath caught in her throat. She actually felt it!

He was an imposing-looking man—at least five inches taller than Toby’s average height. The cut of his blue coat showed off an impressive pair of broad shoulders and the definition of well-shaped arms. His light brown wavy hair grazed his collar and was a bit longer than was considered respectable, but it suited him and appeared neatly trimmed. His square jaw and the angles to his face would make it very easy to render his image in stone. The flicker of candlelight bounced off the gold buttons on his coat, drawing her attention back to his frame and her gaze dropped to his muscular thighs which were visible through his black breeches, tucked into a pair of topped boots. This was a man who enjoyed sport or rode extensively.

It wasn’t until Ann tapped the side of her slipper with her foot that Charlotte realised she must have been staring at him.

‘Charlotte,’ Toby called out. ‘How good to see you.’ It appeared the men were heading to another area of the house but her friend, always the perfect gentleman, walked into the room to greet her.

It was taking considerable effort on Charlotte’s part to keep her eyes fixed on Toby, which was absurd. The man next to him should not have captured her attention in such a way, but he possessed such an ease of movement, like one who was comfortable in his skin, that it was impossible not to sneak one last glance at him.

Toby gave her a friendly smile. ‘I’m so glad you were able to join Ann tonight.’

‘It was lovely to receive her note.’

‘May I introduce my friend?’ he asked, gesturing to the man beside him. ‘Lady Charlotte Gregory, may I present Lord Andrew Pearce. Lord Andrew this is Lady Charlotte, a childhood friend of Ann’s. Lord Andrew and I are old college chums from Cambridge.’

Lord Andrew took a step forward and gave a respectful bow. Candlelight played through his silky hair. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.’

The deep pitch of his voice rumbled through her body. There was no warmth in his eyes or expression, just a keen watchfulness, as if he was studying her, before he turned to Ann and offered another respectful bow.

‘I did not expect the two of you home this early,’ Ann said, looking pleased with the unexpected encounter. ‘I imagine, Lord Andrew, there is little to entertain a man late at night in this part of the country. It must be rather dull, compared to what you’re accustomed to.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘Lord Andrew is from London,’ she informed her yet again before turning back to him. ‘Lady Charlotte has a sister who lives in London.’ There was a helpfulness to her tone and her eyebrows rose as if she fully expected his attention to shift to Charlotte.

Dear God, was Ann trying to find her a husband? Is that why she had invited her here?

His eyes skirted briefly to Charlotte before he addressed Ann’s question. ‘While I am partial to London, you do have some well-run establishments here that serve fine food and good ale. That is all a man truly needs.’

Thank heavens, he did not feel obliged to follow Ann’s direction and converse with her. If Charlotte could think of a polite way to excuse herself, she would leave immediately.

‘Would you care to join us for tea?’ Ann raised her white cup with pink rosebuds. ‘A good cup of tea and a seat by the fire are lovely on such a windy night as this.’

The men looked at one another. Whatever silent communication passed between them seemed to indicate Lord Andrew did not object to curtailing their plans to sit with them for a bit. The four wingback chairs made a cosy, inviting group around the hearth, but before the men where close enough to choose a seat, Ann had to open her mouth again.

‘You may sit there, Lord Andrew,’ she said, gesturing to the chair beside Charlotte. ‘And you may sit by me, Toby.’ She gave her husband a beaming smile, patting the cushion of the chair beside her.

Charlotte caught the disapproving purse of Toby’s lips. Why had she never noticed Ann’s lack of subtlety before?

‘You never did say why you returned so early from the village,’ Ann continued.

‘Word was spreading throughout the inn that the roads were getting rather treacherous,’ Toby replied, watching Ann retrieve two teacups and saucers from the tea stand beside her.

‘Treacherous? But we had been walking in the garden a short while ago. There was nothing to indicate we should be concerned for the quality of the roads.’

‘A storm is coming down from the north. After hearing of it while we were dining, I had no interest in having one of our horses injured or being forced to turn back because a tree had fallen and blocked the road, so we ended our dinner early.’

‘Did you go to the Swan and Swallow?’ Charlotte asked, finding an urge to draw Lord Andrew into the conversation, which had nothing at all to do with the sound of his voice.

But now that his attention was back on her, she once again found it unsettling.

‘We did,’ his deep voice rumbled. ‘Are you from the area, Lady Charlotte?’

‘I was raised in Warwick, but now reside here, near the Knightlys. The Swan and Swallow is a fine choice for a man looking for a bit of excitement, more so than the White Hart.’

She felt the stares of Ann and Toby more than saw them, since her attention was fixed on Lord Andrew.

He shifted his body slightly, as if he was studying her just as much as she was studying him. ‘And I appear to be a man looking for excitement? I assure you, I came to the country seeking pleasant conversations with my old friend and bucolic pastures for riding. Excitement is the furthest thing from my mind.’

‘Then you will be happy you have chosen our sleepy corner of the world. You won’t find much to excite you here.’

‘Except on a night like this.’ His gaze dipped momentarily to her lips, then travelled lower before his eyes locked with hers.

Could he possibly feel what she was feeling, too? Just the sight of him and his voice was making her insides flutter. She didn’t like the sensation. It was unsettling to say the least. She tried to look away, but she noticed a small birthmark just under his right eye. It was just a small mark, but it was enough to keep her attention on his hazel eyes, framed with thick dark lashes.

‘And what excites you this evening?’ she said in a breath, not able to completely gather her voice.

There was a distinct pause while he seemed to taste his own lips. Was he a man who preferred ale or wine with his dinner? Were there remnants of either on his lips?

‘The weather is proving enough excitement,’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair and startling her out of her musings. ‘With tales of carriage accidents, your village has been full of harrowing stories.’

She blinked a few times, recalling the thread of their conversation. Of course, he meant the weather and not being close to her! What a foolish woman she was to assume he was referring to the way he felt meeting her. She had never flirted with a man in her life. She and Jonathan grew up together in a comfortable friendship. They had never flirted with one another.

Would she even know if a man was flirting with her? Apparently not, since she thought Lord Andrew had been—and she had had the unnatural desire to flirt back!

Charlotte took a sip of tea so she wouldn’t open her mouth again and make a cake of herself. Thank heavens no one else in the room had any inclination of what she had mistakenly assumed. She needed to leave before she started to blush.

* * *

Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. What possessed him to utter a flirtatious comment to the woman beside him? He never flirted with respectable women and didn’t recall drinking that much ale with dinner.

It was obvious from the lavender of Lady Charlotte’s gown she was in mourning, which made flirting with her completely beyond the pale. And to make the situation even worse, he would guess it was her husband who had passed away based on the gold signet ring she wore around her neck...a very graceful, long neck which was accentuated by the gauzy fichu tucked in the neckline of her silk gown, obscuring any view of what appeared to be enticing cleavage. A few wisps of her wavy black hair had come loose from her upswept coiffure and contrasted sharply against the white fichu. But it was her lips that continued to draw his attention. They were full and rosy. And when she spoke, he was imagining her biting down on those pillowy lips in the throes of passion.

Mrs Knightly cleared her throat and held out a teacup to him. How long she had been sitting like that, he’d rather not contemplate. ‘The roads are that treacherous?’

‘Quite,’ Toby confirmed, his attention on the tea his wife was fixing for him.

‘Then Charlotte must stay the night,’ Mrs Knightly stated, pouring milk into his cup.

The woman beside Andrew let out the faintest gasp, which stirred his blood.

‘Certainly, they cannot be so bad. And I have not brought anything with me. How can I possibly stay?’

Mrs Knightly waved her hand dismissively after handing Toby his tea. ‘We are practically the same size. I’m certain I will find things to fit you. If the roads are as bad as they say, it’s safer for you to remain here tonight.’

It was apparent Lady Charlotte had no interest in spending the night, and who could blame her after the blunder he had just made. What recently widowed woman in her right mind would want to be near a man who flirted with her?

Lady Charlotte looked to Toby for help. ‘Please inform your wife the roads are not that bad,’ she practically pleaded, raising her brows high above her green eyes for emphasis.

Much to her obvious displeasure, Toby was no help. ‘But you will be heading straight into the storm on your way home. Ann is right. The roads are becoming hazardous with the mud and trees are at risk of coming down. It took us nearly an hour to travel here from the village. You should stay, Charlotte. It is much safer for you, your driver and your horses.’

Not once had she looked at him since their awkward exchange. Could Toby not see that she would rather go out into the stormy night than remain in the same house with Andrew?

‘There,’ Mrs Knightly stated, appearing rather pleased, ‘it’s settled. You will stay the night.’

Lady Charlotte placed her teacup on the table to her left, beside the hearth. ‘It’s not settled. For it to be settled, I need to agree.’

Mrs Knightly took a leisurely sip of her tea. ‘Surely you do not want to risk injury. Don’t you agree, Lord Andrew? Isn’t it safer for Lady Charlotte to remain here until morning?’

Why did she have to drag him into this? He looked at Lady Charlotte, who was blushing while staring wide-eyed at Mrs Knightly. He was such a dolt when it came to respectable women. He couldn’t help himself from wanting to spend the evening between the thighs of the enticing widow beside him. Those lips of hers were calling to him every time she spoke, stirring certain parts of his body.

‘I said wouldn’t you agree, Lord Andrew?’ Mrs Knightly reiterated because, apparently, she thought he hadn’t heard her the first time.

‘Yes, it would be best if you stayed the night.’

In my bed, where I’m certain I can incite more of those gasps.

He cleared his throat. ‘As much as I’m sure it’s an inconvenience, the conditions were deteriorating by the time we arrived here. They probably have only got worse.’

As if she didn’t believe any of them or didn’t hear the rain pelting the windowpanes, Charlotte went to the window. It gave him an excellent opportunity to admire her shapely form as she walked across the room. He shouldn’t be looking at her. She was a woman in mourning. She was not the kind of woman he should notice in any way. She should be like wallpaper; you’re aware it’s there, but you couldn’t describe it five minutes after you left the room.

To shake himself out of staring, and before she turned and noticed, he looked towards the fire and caught the amused expression of Mrs Knightly.

Taking a drink of tea, Andrew tried to think of an inconspicuous way to let Toby know they should leave the ladies. He had no wish to make Lady Charlotte uncomfortable. Being repulsed by an attractive woman was not something he strived for.

‘In the moonlight, you can see how muddy the ground has become,’ Lady Charlotte said on a sigh, turning away from the window. She trudged back to her stuffed chair and lowered herself on to the cushion with a defeated expression.

‘I promise you will not have to stay here for days. The morning sun will dry out the roads and you will be able to leave by midday,’ Mrs Knightly replied reassuringly.

Lady Charlotte reached for her tea. ‘I hope that’s true.’ Her gaze briefly met Andrew’s before it skirted to Toby’s wife. ‘Very well, but I refuse to be more of an imposition than that. I will leave as soon as the conditions improve.’

‘You are certainly no imposition,’ Mrs Knightly said with a genuinely warm smile. ‘We adore having you here.’

Lady Charlotte smiled back at her friend and then glanced once more at him before she took a long sip of her tea. A soft pink flush edged its way up her neck. It was impossible for Andrew not to picture the rest of her body flush with that rosy glow after an enthusiastic encounter in the sheets...or in a carriage...or...

No wonder the woman was eager to leave. She probably knew what he’d been thinking.

As if watching a performance at the theatre, Mrs Knightly let her attention float between Andrew and the woman beside him. The auburn-haired wife of his friend was not very subtle. He was certain Lady Charlotte had not missed her friend’s attention.

He looked over at Toby and caught his eye, curious to see if his friend was as eager as his wife to promote a match.

‘Lord Andrew and I were on our way to the billiard room,’ Toby offered to no one in particular. ‘We would hate to impose on your conversation any further, ladies. I’m sure we interrupted some bit of town gossip.’

‘But—’

Toby arched a brow, and Mrs Knightly did not continue. At least he had a friend in Toby Knightly.

While he found Lady Charlotte strikingly attractive, he would not pursue her. She was a widow in mourning, not the kind of woman open for a dalliance. Even more importantly, once she was out of mourning a respectable woman like Lady Charlotte would be looking to marry again. With the dangerous life he led, he would not take a wife. And no woman would want to be attached to a man who was capable of doing the things he had done in his life.

Yet he did know he would be thinking about her and those enticing lips when he lay in bed later that night. Now, he would pass the remainder of his evening in the pleasant company of his friend, enjoying a competitive game of billiards and drinking what he hoped to be fine brandy.

‘Lord Andrew, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Lady Charlotte said with what appeared to be an apologetic smile.

Andrew stood and placed his teacup on the table before politely tipping his head to her. ‘The pleasure was all mine. If I do not see you before you take your leave tomorrow, I wish you a safe journey home.’

‘Thank you, and you as well.’

Strolling out of the room with his friend, he wondered if she was an early riser.