“And Stewart?” Aunt Rebecca said, shaking her head at him. “Your own brother’s son? Surely you remember him! Sometimes I worry you’re turning mad in your old age.”
He frowned at her. “Yes, yes. Stewart. Of course.”
With a laugh and a hand held out to shake, Stewart stepped forward. “Uncle Graham, let me introduce you to the Duke of Ashbourne, my lifelong friend.”
Charlotte eyed the duke carefully. He’d almost kissed her the night before, in the dim and fading light of the corridor. It had been late, she’d been tired. She’d so almost given into him. Not that she liked him. Most definitely not. In fact, she’d go so far as to say she activelydislikedhim.
Don’t I?
And yet she had wanted his lips upon hers more than anything in that moment. She had wanted his arms around her waist.
His manhood pressed into my thigh.
He had been so close that she could smell him, a heady mix of stale wine and rich, manly sweat. When he’d touched her cheek, she’d nuzzled into him, so close to begging him to take her, to show her what it means to be a real woman.
But how could she? She couldn’t, not when she wasn’t willing to give him the rest of her.
And besides, I dislike the man!
“It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lord Hurtle. I must thank you for extending Stewart’s invitation to me. We are all very excited about Lady Chelsea’s upcoming wedding.”
The duke stepped forward and bowed magnanimously to Lord Hurtle. Even this irritated her. Why did he always have to be sonice? Charlotte already knew that the entire family would just fall in love with him, and she would be the only one who could see the annoying truth about him.
Lord Hurtle’s false testiness slipped away, replaced by bombastic welcoming. “Ah yes. My darling girl is getting married. We, too, are very happy of course, though I must admit, I shall miss her greatly when she leaves our family.”
Chelsea tutted. “I’m not dying, Father. You’ll still see me often.”
“And in the meantime,” Aunt Rebecca said, “we shall celebrate. Come. I don’t like standing here in the rain. Let’s celebrate inside.”
Lord Hurtle looked up at the bright blue sky with a deep frown. “Are you sure it’s notyouturning batty, dear? The sun is shining.”
Aunt Rebecca picked up her skirt and marched inside. “Perhaps,” she called over she shoulder as she entered the house. “But mark my words, it will rain very shortly.”
As if by her command, as her footsteps rang out on the marble floor of the entrance hall, the heavens opened. Charlotte squealed, looking up at the clouds as the rain began to pour. Together, the group ran into the entrance hall, laughing together and shaking off their clothes.
“Told you,” Aunt Rebecca said without turning back, sauntering instead in the direction of the drawing room.
Charlotte paused in the hall, catching her breath around the laughter that still filled her mouth.
“Is she a seer?” the duke asked.
Charlotte jumped. She hadn’t realized that he was right next to her, but now that she had noticed him, she could feel every part of him as if through some additional sense. Her own body began to prickle all over, alive with the possibilities, the curiosities, the desire.
She giggled. “A seer? No. She just feels for the moisture in the air—and she is never wrong.”
“A seer, then,” the duke said with a firm nod.
“No,” Charlotte cried in protest. “She’s not… I mean, she’s just… ohm dash it all!”
She growled in frustration when she saw the tease in his eyes. Every time she was coming around to him, thinking that perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all, he did something that infuriated her. Why did he insist on teasing her so? Did he think that his extreme good lucks gave him the permission to behave in such a way?
“Do you not believe me, then? Is that it?” she snapped.
The duke laughed. “I am teasing you, my lady. Nothing more. Not everything needs to be so serious, you know?” He leaned in and whispered. “I remember a time when you yourself were carefree, and I look forward to the day when I see you as such again.”
Charlotte’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. With her fists clenched at her side, she huffed then marched away. That handsome, amusing man would not get the better of her, no matter what he thought.
***
