Читать книгу One Week To Wed - Laurie Benson, Laurie Benson - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Charlotte adjusted the blue cashmere shawl Ann had let her borrow the night before as she followed her friends’ footman to the breakfast room. Before she even reached the doorway the scent of coffee and bacon drifted on the air. It smelled delicious. At least she would not go home hungry.

There were no sounds coming from the open doorway. Apparently, she was the first one awake and ready to start the day. Dining alone and in silence was nothing new. She had been doing it for years and, considering she was forced to wear this jonquil gown that Ann had loaned her, she really did prefer it that way. No matter what Ann said, Charlotte knew it wasn’t possible for her not to have any grey or lavender gowns in the house. Every woman she knew kept mourning clothes on hand for when she needed them.

The footman stopped before the open doorway and stepped to the side so she could enter the room. But when she crossed the threshold her body froze at the sight of Lord Andrew, sitting at the oval table reading the newspaper placed beside his plate of food. Her feet refused to move while she stared at him.

It was early—much too early for a man from Town to be awake. Yet there he was with his head down and his broad shoulders defined by a bottle-green-coloured coat. His head turned slightly as he continued to read, without any indication that he knew she was watching him. She took advantage of his occupied state to study him further and noticed the slightly crooked slope of his nose. It appeared he wasn’t even aware his fingers were flicking the upper-right corner of the paper as he read.

A flurry of butterflies circled inside her stomach. She took a steadying breath and forced her legs to move, stepping further into the room. The movement must have caught his attention because he looked up, locking his eyes with hers.

It was impossible to determine if he found her unexpected presence an annoyance, since his expression was unreadable. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he stood politely and remained that way until she took the seat opposite his.

‘Good morning,’ he said, sitting down. The deep pitch of his voice settled somewhere near her stomach, sending those butterflies into a frenzy and ensuring she would not be able to eat a thing.

‘Good morning,’ she replied in return, relieved her voice gave away nothing about the physical effects his presence was having on her. He was just a man. Why was he muddling her senses? His eyes were on her as she searched the room for a footman and realised they were completely alone. This was highly irregular—and highly inappropriate. She turned back to the doorway and noticed the footman had closed the door behind her after she had entered.

‘That pot of tea was brought in a few minutes ago,’ he said, motioning with his fork to the porcelain pot to the left of her place setting.

She took note of the coffee pot beside him and knew Ann preferred chocolate to tea in the morning. Someone had been notified Charlotte was on her way downstairs. When she looked back at him, their eyes met and she really wished he would go back to reading his paper and ignore her. It had been years since she had been alone in a room with a man, and her stomach did an odd flip. She eyed the bacon and toast on his plate. He had selected crispy pieces of meat, which were her favourites.

‘I can recommend the bacon, if you like it rather well done.’

Her stomach still hadn’t settled down, and she gave him a polite smile. ‘Thank you, but I find I’m not hungry this morning.’

His brows rose just a fraction while he nodded. They stared at one another for a few moments longer before they both looked away. He busied himself with cutting into his delicious-looking breakfast, and she poured her tea. As she added a splash of milk, Lord Andrew slid the sugar bowl towards her.

‘Thank you, but I prefer my tea without.’ Charlotte had learned to economise over the years to ensure she would not have to marry again. She no longer had the taste for sweet tea.

‘You have my condolences on your husband’s passing, Lady Charlotte. I was going to express them last night, but hadn’t the opportunity. I assume this occurred recently.’

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Four years ago.’

There was a slight lift to his eyebrows. She knew most people who met her believed her to be newly widowed due to the half-mourning clothes she chose to wear. It was safer as a widow to be around men dressed in those colours. Unfortunately, she discovered there were certain men who believed a widow out of mourning was a woman who was ripe for seduction. The unwanted advances of Lord Aldrich the week she came out of mourning were enough to make her return to the safety of black, lavender and grey.

The ticking of the mantel clock, the wind rattling the window panes and the occasional popping of the logs in the hearth broke the silence that stretched between them.

Why had she not taken breakfast in her room? She might still have an appetite if she had. Now she was sitting alone with him, drinking tea and watching him eat. Occasionally he would glance at the door as if he, too, was expecting a footman to enter and confer respectability on their encounter. At times her gaze would follow his, mentally willing the closed door to open.

What if he was not attempting to strike up a conversation with her because he thought she was looking for a husband and had set her sights on him? Perhaps Lord Andrew thought she had arranged this with Ann! Where was Ann? Although it was too early for a Town gentleman such as Lord Andrew to be awake, it was not for country folk like Ann and Toby. She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. Why was Ann torturing her like this?

‘Are you well?’ he asked, drawing her attention away from what she planned to say to her friend the next time they were alone.

‘Forgive me, yes, I am.’ She lowered her hand and played with the napkin on her lap. ‘I confess, I did believe our friends would be having breakfast here at this hour. Had I known you were dining here by yourself, I would have left you to your peaceful solitude to enjoy your meal and read your paper without having to make polite discourse with someone you do not know.’

After spreading jam on his toast, he lowered his knife. ‘I see.’

She couldn’t tell if he believed her. She couldn’t tell if he thought her to be a widow in search of her next husband. Being trapped alone at breakfast with her would make it a logical conclusion. ‘I did not arrive here yesterday evening with a design to meet you. I did not wish to stay last night at all, but was forced to do so by the unfortunate weather and our rather insistent friends. And I did not come down for breakfast with the intention of being alone with you in this room in this compromising situation. It was all done by chance.’

He tilted his head while studying her, but remained silent. He didn’t believe her.

‘I am not a widow with a plan to trap you into marriage. If I were, I would have brought my own clothes last night. Instead, I’m forced to wear this gown that, while lovely, is yellow and I never wear yellow. At least I haven’t worn yellow since my husband passed. I can assure you, I would not be sitting across from you shining brighter than the midday sun if my plan was to entice you into marriage.’

She was rambling. Dear God, she wasn’t even certain what she had just said. Something about yellow...possibly? Her brain was not working with her mouth. It very well could be from lack of food. That bacon smelled so good, but her stomach was now clenched tight, as if it was trying to tell her that if she ate one bite, she would be seeing it again shortly.

Charlotte shifted her attention from the bacon on his plate to his unreadable expression. She really wished he would say something—anything. Heat was spreading up her neck. She should just excuse herself and return to her room. Or just leave the building entirely—and perhaps the town and county. She rubbed her brow again.

When she glanced over at him, she caught something that looked like amusement in his eyes as he chewed his toast. The shine from the sugar of the jam highlighted his top lip before he licked it off.

Involuntarily, she swallowed. She needed to get away. His presence was having an unsettling effect on her. She stood suddenly, startling Lord Andrew and bringing him to his feet.

‘I will leave you,’ she said, and before he could reply she turned and walked to the door. When she opened it, she was surprised to find a footman standing outside as if guarding the door.

‘Please see that my carriage is brought around in half an hour. I’ll leave a note for Mr and Mrs Knightly. I assume they are still abed.’

‘I believe so, my lady. I’ll see to it directly.’

‘Wait,’ Lord Andrew called out, holding up his hand and walking towards the doorway with his gaze fixed on Charlotte. ‘You cannot leave. It has started to rain again.’

Her head snapped to the window and her eyes widened at the sight of raindrops sliding down the glass panes. She looked at him and had the ridiculous urge to reassure him that she had nothing to do with the rain.

‘My lady?’ The footman’s voice broke the spell from where he stood beside them. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Lady Charlotte, the roads have not dried out and we don’t know if they are even passable. I think you are forced to remain a bit longer and, since our hosts are nowhere to be found this morning, that leaves it to me to convince you of the sensible course of action.’

That was the longest thing he had ever said to her. ‘Why do you...?’

‘I would not be able to live with myself if any harm came to you because you fled to prove you have no desire to be in my presence.’

‘I’m not trying to prove anything.’

‘Then you are simply willing to risk injury to get away from me.’

‘Yes. No. I mean...’

His eyebrows flew up and he appeared amused rather than insulted. She really needed to stop talking. She was always completely composed. What was wrong with her? Maybe she was coming down with some unknown illness? That had to be it. She rubbed her brow again to casually see if she had a fever. Thankfully, she didn’t appear overly warm.

She motioned with her head for him to follow her as she walked away from the footman back into the breakfast room. When they were at a far enough distance, she stopped and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I truly am not a widow in search of a husband. I will not be marrying again. I am comfortable in my situation and regardless of what our friends, or rather my friend, might believe, being in my presence will not endanger your bachelorhood.’

He rubbed his lips together and crossed his arms. ‘In the event of your previous statements being unclear, you’re telling me you haven’t arranged to sneak into my bedchamber while I am here and force us into a compromising situation?’

The nerve of the man! ‘Of course not!’ she whispered back sharply. ‘I am not that kind of widow, my lord.’

There was a quirk to his lips, and she realised he had been teasing her. She couldn’t help but smile.

He leaned forward again. ‘Thank you for reassuring me you have not taken part in hatching a plan to trap me into marriage.’

‘I assure you, Lord Andrew, I have no desire to marry you or any other man. Or take part in any type of scandalous activity.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it. We are of a like mind. Our firm understanding of the situation makes this a more relaxing experience for both of us.’ For the first time he smiled, making him appear quite handsome. His eyes held hers once more before he turned to the footman, who Charlotte had forgotten all about. ‘Her ladyship will not be needing her carriage. She will be remaining at Knightly Hall a while longer until the weather improves.’

‘Very good, my lord,’ the footman replied with a tip of his head. And before either could protest, the man took a few steps back and closed the door on them, once more leaving them alone.

‘I do believe your friend has given her staff specific instructions this morning that we are not to be disturbed.’

‘I do believe you might be correct in your assumption. I am truly sorry.’

Stretching out his arm, he motioned for them to return to the table. ‘It will not be the first time I have been a target because of my bachelor status.’

‘There are those who might see our presence in this room together as rather scandalous,’ she replied, taking her seat.

He paused before sitting down. ‘Do you believe your friend will make it known in the village we spent time alone like this?’

‘Heavens, no.’

The brief sense of panic that flashed in his eyes cleared and he sat down. ‘That’s reassuring to hear, because if there were to be a scandal about me, I would hope it would be a bit more exciting than just taking breakfast alone with you.’ Lord Andrew’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

His teasing made her smile. ‘Are you referring to other closed-door escapades?’

‘Well, considering the conditions outside, I suppose one would be forced to remain inside behind closed doors...unless one was eager to get wet...outside.’ There was a wicked glint in his eye and a slight curve to his mouth. He arched his brow, silently challenging her to respond. There was no lecherous leer to his lips—no intimidation with the posture of his impressive form. He appeared to be a man who enjoyed playful conversation.

‘I’ve found I prefer a bit of solitude behind closed doors.’

‘Because you simply haven’t found the right company, my lady,’ he said with a knowing smile, making her grin.

‘And do you find many people whose company you enjoy, my lord?’

‘Surprisingly, not many. I am rather discerning, if you must know. And I much prefer the company of a single companion to many.’ His gaze seemed to penetrate her. ‘There is something about devoting your complete attention to one person that I find utterly satisfying.’

Charlotte had not thought about having sex in years. That part of her life was over...and yet suddenly she was imagining what this man’s touch would feel like and what it would be like to be the focus of his attentive ministrations. ‘Surely your attention wavers a bit.’

Slowly, he shook his head, all the while never breaking their gaze. ‘If we are playing in hypotheticals and you are the company I am with, I can assure you that you would have my complete undivided attention. And I would be most eager to engage in any activity of your choosing. Especially if it did involve getting wet.’

It was becoming difficult to take a deep breath. She must have tied her stays too tight this morning. She should end this conversation now. It was beyond improper and she had had no experience in discourse such as this even while she had been married. But his playful safe smile drew her back. ‘What a gallant companion you would be,’ she replied, ‘but I have no wish to cause you any hardship against your will.’

His lips twitched with amusement. ‘I would gladly suffer through any hardship for you, my lady. I believe the experience would be most fulfilling.’

The imagine of him filling her made her intimate places tingle. This man was the devil—but she didn’t want it to end. She glanced out of the window and gave a dramatic sigh. ‘I imagine getting wet outside would be such an inconvenience...hypothetically speaking.’

‘If the gardener was present, I would agree.’

She let out a low laugh and pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold in the rest. The corners of his eyes creased as he took a sip from his cup and turned to the window. It was raining harder now, obscuring the view of the gardens.

A flush of heat rose up her neck and she stared down at her empty cup.

‘Do not fear I will try to coax you out into the rain, Lady Charlotte. I know your comments were made in jest.’

Did that mean he didn’t want to get her wet outside? Why did that notion leave her feeling dispirited? She had never considered having sex outside her bedchamber—at least not before he mentioned it. And if people did have sex outside, where would they have it? Were people really so inclined...not that she was...or ever would be...or would ever be in a position to engage in such an activity...but still, where would one do something like that? She hadn’t thought about sex in years. Now suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

‘Are you certain you are not hungry?’ he asked, cutting into his bacon, apparently unaffected by their conversation. ‘It really is quite good.’

She leaned towards his plate, surveying the crispy pieces. She needed to focus on food, not sex. ‘Were they all that well done or just those you have graciously taken?’

He studied the piece on his fork. ‘I’d say half were like this.’

It really did smell so good and smoky, and her stomach had settled down. Now it felt as if it would rumble with hunger any minute.

Which it did, to her mortification.

‘Are you one of those women who survives on toast and tea? I assure you a hardier breakfast will do you no harm.’

He didn’t have to convince her of that. She enjoyed starting the day with something rather robust. She stood and walked to the sideboard. The smoky aroma was so tempting. She selected the crispiest pieces from the china platter along with two slices of fluffy bread and went back to the table.

Lord Andrew had been skimming the paper next to him, but when she sat down he examined her plate with a smile. ‘That’s much better. I honestly do not know how some women sustain themselves on so little food.’

‘I enjoy the taste of food too much to survive on toast and tea, as you so aptly phrased it. You may go back to reading the paper. I will not consider it discourteous, although with the weather as it is, I assume that is not today’s edition.’

‘It isn’t, but I did ask to see any papers that were about. I thought it would give me a glimpse of what has been happening here.’

Charlotte cut into the meat and her mouth began to water. ‘I’ve read the London papers on occasion. I doubt you will find anything of interest to you in those editions.’

‘How can you be certain? Copies of the Observer are circulated in London and I’ve read about the unrest due to Parliamentary repression.’

‘Are you a Member of Parliament, Lord Andrew?’

‘No, I am a mere second son.’

She put her fork down and wiped her lips. He bore no military title. He must be one of the wastrels who spent their days at the gaming clubs and lived off their family’s money, while men like her husband gave their lives to ensure he was able to live his life under British rule. ‘I would think a man with your title coming from London would have no interest in what happens up here. Unless your interest is purely because you are staying here.’

‘I should remind you, Lady Charlotte, although we shared an amusing conversation, you do not know me.’

‘This is true. I do not. But famine and unemployment do not seem to be an interesting topic for a privileged bachelor from London.’

She was being rude. She knew it, but was unable to stop. Perhaps her testy emotions with him had something to do with the feelings of desire he was stirring inside her—feelings she needed to forget. To him it was all a game. Meanwhile for Charlotte it was... She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but there was no denying she didn’t like him as much now as she had before. It was easier for her to deal with him if she painted him in a poor light.

‘And how do you know these things do not interest me?’ he asked while wrinkling his forehead.

Jonathan’s brothers had never expressed interest in those outside their social circle and the London bachelors Lizzy wrote to her about were only interested in game and drink. ‘You yourself said last night that you came here seeking pleasant conversation with your friend and bucolic pastures for riding. The state of the people who have inhabited this area for generations did not draw you here.’

‘Like it did Mr Hunt.’

Her spine stiffened. ‘Mr Hunt, and men who write for that paper, are champions for a people who could use one. Mr Hunt has done nothing wrong.’

‘His speeches on Parliamentary reform have instigated riots.’

‘That is not true. He believes if enough of us speak our minds, then change can happen without violence. Violent actions are not the answer to the problems faced by people who live in this area.’

‘One could assume with your title, my lady, you would not have an interest in the plight of the common man.’

‘I am a widow, Lord Andrew. Famine and financial hardship can appear at my door as well as at the merchants, farmers and factory workers here. What happens to my neighbour down the lane could easily befall me.’

‘You could marry again.’

‘But I won’t. We need equal and proper representation in Parliament. Something we do not have. We need people who will champion our interests there. Do not condemn those who are fighting for their right to feed and clothe their families.’

‘I have not spoken of condemning them.’

‘But you have strong opinions of Mr Hunt. I saw it in your eyes.’ Charlotte had no use for entitled self-centred gentlemen like Lord Andrew. It was probably best she had found out about his true nature. He had her recalling the activities of the marriage bed—activities that were best left forgotten. She hadn’t lied to him. She would not marry again and the less tempted she was to touch the man across from her, the better off she would be.