“How embarrassing. Has she no sense of volume?”
“Lady Charlotte.” The deep voice of the Duke of Rodstone caught her attention, and strangely, Charlotte quite forgot about the others in the street as he stepped up toward them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Lady Winchester.” Gerard shifted his attention and bowed to the countess who was smiling vastly in greeting. He stepped forward, taking his arm, as though they were old friends.
“I am so glad to see you again. You are in town shopping, are you? How lovely. You must come and take tea with us.”
“Mother…”
Gerard shifted his attention to Charlotte. She was pink in the face, almost going as purple as a beetroot because of her mother’s forwardness. Gerard wished he could say something to tell her he hardly minded her mother’s enthusiasm. He would even tell her it was nice to talk to someone who was glad to see him, but Lady Winchester was doing all the talking.
“Oh yes, you are not a fan of tea, are you? But they have coffee, oh, and hot chocolate too. Do say you’ll come with us. Rose, come and meet the Duke of Rodstone again.”
Lady Rose quickly appeared before him and Gerard bowed, noting the look of awe and fear in Rose’s eyes.
“How do ye do, Rose,” he said, without thinking of using the title. To his amazement, she smiled, as if it was the one thing she had wanted to hear.
“We’ve heard so much about you,” Rose added hurriedly. “All the gossip and such.”
“Though we have already told the dear duke we take no notice of gossip, don’t we, Rose?” Lady Winchester said pointedly. Rose frowned.
“I meant more all the talking that Charlotte does of him.”
Together, Rose and Lady Winchester looked at Charlotte.
Gerard did not think it was possible for poor Charlotte to go any redder in the face, but it turned out that he was wrong. She now grew almost as pink as the rose-hued gowns behind in the shop window. She glanced back at the shop, and he saw her eyes lingered on a particular sage gown before she looked away.
“Ye talk of me, Charlotte?” he asked with a playful smile. She stepped forward and waved a hand at her sister. It was a subtle action, but plain enough. She did not want her to say anymore.
“Not much, I assure you,” she said with her usual politeness.
“Well, what a fortunate meeting indeed,” Lady Winchester said. “Come, come, this way to the teahouse. The Duke of Rodstone has said he’ll come with us, Rose.”
“Mother,” Charlotte cut in, “I do not think he said –”
“I’ll be glad to come.” Gerard added smoothly.
As Lady Winchester and Rose led the way through Covent Garden toward a teahouse, he offered his arm to Charlotte. She couldn’t meet his gaze, still pink cheeked as she took his arm. Her fingers rested delicately on the crook of his elbow, like flower petals. Once more, she glanced at the green gown in the window, then tore her eyes away.
“Daenae be embarrassed,” he pleaded, whispering in her ear as they walked behind the others.
“Oh, you always bring to the forefront in the conversation that I would like to keep hidden, don’t you?” She rounded on him, and he smiled. At least with him, she was starting to speak her mind more and more.
“I like honest speaking. I like bein’ free with me conversation.” It was a subtle reminder of their argument from two nights before, and she looked away, as if she could not bear for it to be mentioned. “Ye have nay need to be embarrassed for yer mother, as I find her refreshin’.”
“You do?”
“Kindness? Oh aye, ye’re right. Who would want that in their life?” His thick sarcasm earned the smallest of smiles from her before she looked ahead again. “Let us turn to another matter of plain speaking.”
“Must we?”
“Well, we’ll give it a try.” He nodded his head back at the window in the modiste's shop. “Ye were admiring the green gown, aye?”
“Admiring it, certainly.” She looked down at her own gown. He suddenly noticed how she tucked the fraying sleeve of her gown under the sleeve of the spencer jacket. She also gathered part of the skirt together, perhaps to hide a torn hem. “It is a beautiful thing. That is all.”
“Do ye want it?”
