Tease her.
“Well, ye should teach me instead how to remain single and avoid being married.” He gestured to her with his coffee cup. “I understand ye are an expert on this subject. Are ye nae labeled a spinster yerself?”
“I… that is unfair,” she said coolly.
“Far from it.” He smiled and shook his head. “I admire ye for it and want the same for meself. So, Spinster Charlotte, teach me how to follow in yer wake.”
“You are impossible.”
He reached for another biscuit but managed to knock another away with his sleeve, scattering it across the tablecloth.
“No gentleman should refer to the fact a lady is a spinster,” she said in outrage, walking around the table, nearer to him, as she tried to sweep up the crumbs into the palm of her hand. “A gentleman should certainly not use it as if it is a title. It is abominably rude!”
“Why? Are ye suddenly married?” he asked with a smile. “Ye kept that betrothal secret, me lady.”
“I am not!”
He reached over to help her with the crumbs, their hands bumping together on the table.
“Ye are a spinster. There is nothin’ wrong in sayin’ it or ownin’ it. Why is it a bad thing?”
“It is an insult,” she snapped quietly in a hissing whisper. “Take your hands away. They keep bumping mine.”
“They are me crumbs to clean up,” he reminded her.
She dropped the crumbs onto his plate, and he suddenly realized how close they were together, with him practically leaning out of his chair and she standing over him. He could have reached out to her, quite easily, and established another touch between them.
Behave such thoughts!
He abruptly leaned back, realizing something. Charlotte was a danger to him. She was too attractive, too intriguing, and far too easy to tease. He looked away, down at the biscuit crumbs, determined to return to their teasing.
“I would have thought ye would be happy to teach me the ways of avoiding marriage.”
“You suppose I am content in this state? Happy to remain this way?” She flounced around the table, now blushing so red that guilt swarmed in his stomach. She sat down, reaching for her own biscuit and a plate. Rather than eating it though, she broke the biscuit into pieces.
“Ye wish to marry someday, lass?” he asked, his voice softer, though she didn’t appear to notice.
“Of course, I do.” She was sharp, breaking that biscuit up into tiny pieces before taking a small bite into her mouth. “I hope tomarry once I restore my dowry. I am not so much of a fool as to think I could marry without one?—”
“Ye think a man needs to be bribed with a dowry to marry ye?” he asked, his voice hooded and dark.
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up from her biscuit as she spoke fast.
“Where I come from, dowries arenae really a part of marriage. People marry because they wish to. What is wrong in that?”
“It’s just the done thing in theton.” She shrugged.
“Ye seem to use this excuse a lot when it comes to theton. It’s the ‘done thing’ therefore it is acceptable.”
“It is.” She shrugged once again, though he longed to argue with her.
“Any man should want to marry ye for who ye are, lass. Nae because ye are payin’ them to do it.”
She froze, no longer breaking up her biscuit but staring down at the pieces.
“That is not the way my world works,” she said quietly, even with a hint of sadness, then she looked up and put on such a front of poise that all signs of sadness was gone. He slowly shook hishead, wishing for a glimpse into her heart again, but she had quite firmly shut the door on that possibility.
“How does yer world work?” he asked, his voice soft. Her shoulders hunched ever so slightly, her usual perfect posture breaking.
