He hadn’t seen her, or if he had, he gave no indication of it. He leaned one hand against the wall, so casual and yet so formal all at once. His hair flopped over his forehead, unencumbered now by his top hat, and he’d undone the button of his tailcoat so that it hung open, revealing the stark whiteness of his shirt.
Charlotte’s breath deepened as her eyes landed on his chest, remembering the way it felt against her own. So different to the softness of herself. So alluring. She licked her lips, feeling that now-familiar tingle down her spine. Between her legs. She shifted position, trying to force it away.
He still hadn’t noticed her. In fact, she doubted he would. He was deep in conversation with a small group of gracious, elegant ladies. So beautiful, so well put together. So unlike the woman who had just whipped off her stocking in front of a crowd of people. So much better suited to a man such as Alexander Wentworth.
***
Alexander groaned as he dropped into the armchair by the fire, a large glass of brandy in hand. Finally, all the guests and the household had retired for the evening, leaving just him and Stewart to drink the last of the alcohol.
“Long day,” he muttered.
“But a good one,” Stewart added. “It was a lot more fun than even I expected, and I planned the entire thing.”
Alexander chuckled. “You always were good at organizing such events. I don’t know how you have the patience.”
He stared into the dancing flames in the grate. It had indeed been a good day, but a confusing one, too. He had kissed Miss Charlotte, despite all he had told himself, and though he had enjoyed it—and he thought she had too—she had avoided him for the rest of the evening. Had he made a foolish mistake?
He hoped not. Not that it truly mattered, of course. She would never be interested in him, not when she knew the truth about his situation. Not when she was told—for someone would surely tell her. Thetondelighted in such things.
But he could still taste the remnants of her on his lips, and he cherished that. He could see still the joy on her face as she had boldly thrust her stocking in the air. How free. How delightful. There was something about her that drove him wild.
Stewart shrugged. “I enjoy it. Fancy a game of cards?”
Alexander nodded, then got up to fetch the playing cards. “Crib?” It might take his mind off yet another problem he had given himself.
As he dealt out the cards, Stewart set up the board. “I couldn’t help but notice how well you got on with Miss Charlotte. You made an excellent team.”
“Ha. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t difficult. She has a mind of her own, that one.” He placed two cards in the box, then put the first card down. “Eight.”
“But I think you rather like it, if you’re honest with yourself. Her being difficult I mean. You see it as a challenge.” His card snapped as he added it to the table. “And two makes ten.”
“And I think you’re delusional,” Alexander said, though he knew in his heart that Stewart was right. Her reticence was as alluring as her carefree abandon, and it was all tied together by her beauty. “Fifteen for two.” He moved his peg along two spaces, then looked up expectantly at his friend.
Stewart kept his eyes on his cards, but when he spoke it was with sincerity. “You know, the solution to all your problems lie with Miss Charlotte, if only you could handle herbeing difficult.”
His fingers wiggled over the tops of his cards as if deciding which to choose, though he never put one down. Instead, he waited for Alexander’s response, still not looking at him.
“How so?” Alexander asked. He put all his cards into a neat stack and placed them face-down on the highly polished table.
Finally, Stewart looked up at him, meeting his gaze from beneath his brow. “You mean to say that you haven’t heard?”
Alexander rolled his eyes. “Heard what? Why on earth are you being so cryptic?”
Stewart raised his head fully and grinned. “Why, Miss Charlotte is one of the wealthiest ladies in London. I’d say she’d give the Prince Regent a run for his money, even.”
“Is she indeed?” Alexander sat back in his chair. This new information was interesting, though he didn’t think he could marry a woman merely for her wealth, and certainly not one as confounding—and as enchanting—as Miss Charlotte.
“Her father died a few years back, and he left her incredible wealth. With no brothers to take it and no husband to hand it over to, that money is… well, it’s just sitting there. It could be yours, Alexander. It could solve all your moneyproblems and turn that pit of an estate of yours into a place you could be proud of.”
Alexander frowned, then picked up his cards and turned them over and over in his hand. “But she’s what? Three-and-twenty? Four-and-twenty?”
“Three-and-twenty, just like Chelsea,” Stewart confirmed. He finally placed a three onto the pile of cards. “Eighteen.”
“If she is so wealthy, and she is clearly a beauty, then why isn’t she already married? Something must be wrong with her.”
Stewart shrugged. “She has not been short of suitors. She had turned down a great many offers, or so I’ve heard. She’s done the season several times, and now everyone just sees her as a slightly eccentric wallflower. But she’s incredibly rich, and I suppose no one has taken her fancy thus far. Until now, that is.”
Alexander tutted. “She has not taken a fancy to me, if that’s what you’re inferring. If anything, quite the opposite. I seem to only offend her. She dislikes me immensely.”
