“And I dinnae need to be rescued.” He winked at her.
“You winked!” she said in outrage. “A gentleman does not wink to a lady.”
“Nay?” He laughed a little more. “Well, I’m an odd sort of gentleman.” He practically growled the words, making her recoil.
“I may have noticed that,” she confessed, surprised when the words made him laugh all the more.
“Ah, witty, too.” He carried her up the veranda, moving nearer to the assembly rooms. “So, I have a kind lass in me arms, witty, bonnie –”
“I do not remember asking for an appraisal.”
“Aye, but it’s one freely given,” he said sharply, clearly fighting against her. He resented her intrusion, so now he was intruding on her personally, too.
As they stopped on the veranda and the other lady disappeared inside, shooting one last furious glance back in Charlotte’s direction, the Duke of Rodstone put Charlotte on her feet again. She staggered a little, placing a hand on his arm to steady herself, before she realized what she was doing and snatched it back again.
“So, I ken a little of ye. Care to tell me yer name?” he asked, not moving away from her.
“You do not need my name. We have acted out our part now in order to get you back to these assembly rooms without a woman hanging off your arm in a hurried betrothal.” She was about to turn away when he cleared his throat. “You aim to capture a lady’s attention by clearing your throat?”
“Let me guess. It is nae the done thing?”
“Not in theton. No.”
“Then how would ye have me capture yer attention?” He smiled a little.
“I do not remember saying I wanted you to.”
“Do ye argue by rule when ye are talkin’?”
“With you, it has just happened.”
They both halted, and as she glared at him, she realized he was smiling.
He really is the most insufferable of men. He has no manners, and he does not know how to behave.
“I was simply goin’ to tell ye that if ye wish to continue the illusion of yer injury, remember to limp into those assembly rooms.”
She sighed, for she had indeed neglected to limp when she stepped away from him.
“Thank you. I will.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Goodnight, Your Grace,” then she turned and stepped away, limping this time.
“Ye still have nae told me yer name?” he called after her.
“I do not remember you asking politely.”
“Ah, lass, politeness and me daenae go hand in hand. Just tell me yer name.” The way he spoke these words pulled her up short in the doorway of the assembly rooms. There was a strange warmth in her chest she was trying her best to ignore. The way he called her ‘lass’ was oddly pleasing, even though she knew it lacked manners.
“My name is Lady Charlotte Morton.”
“Maybe we’ll meet again, me lady.” He bowed to her, though watching such a tall man bow seemed oddly strange in her eyes.
She wished him goodnight and left as swiftly as she could.
Maybe we will meet again.
CHAPTER THREE
“Damned carriages,” Gerard muttered, steering his horse around the myriad of carriages in the street as he rode up toward Lord Winchester’s house.
