Stewart threw his head back and laughed. “Of course, because everyone gazes lovingly across a room at people they dislike. And I’d wager I saw a fair amount of lust in those eyes, too. If you could overcome her eccentricity, you could haveeverything you dreamed of—and your Uncle Norman will be well looked after.”
Alexander held his cards to his pursed lips, his eyes set on the table in front of him. He didn’t think Charlotte at all eccentric. If anything, he found her amusing and charming, and he was intrigued by her fresh attitude to society. If only more people were like that, the world would be a better place. But could he marry her? No, surely not.
He glanced back up and smiled, then fanned out his cards once more. He selected one quickly and placed it down. “Four makes twenty-two. I’ll be honest, the very idea of marriage since Lucille is… well, it’s unpleasant. Bachelorhood is far more appealing.”
“Yes, but—”
“But,” Alexander interrupted, pointing at him with his cards. “I cannot deny that I haven’t considered marrying for money—as an absolute last resort, you understand. And I had heard something about an eccentric heiress who would, potentially, see me out of my woes. But now that I’ve met her… my thoughts are different.”
“Different in what way?” Stewart asked.
He shrugged, pursing his lips again. He knew, in his heart, that he couldn’t.Could he?But he couldn’t quite put hisfinger on why. “I cannot marry her for her money, Stanhope. She is too pure and too honest to be duped in such a way.”
Stewart shrugged as he placed the nine of hearts down. “Thirty-one for two,” he said, then, “I understand your reasoning completely, but you are quickly running out of time—and options. Just spend a little time thinking about it. Perhaps you might find the bravado after all.”
Chapter 14
The following three days passed in a blur. The entire house seemed a whirlwind of activity, as the preparations for the wedding stepped up a notch in both urgency and excitement. Even more guests arrived by the day, and Alexander wondered idly where they were all sleeping. The manor house was big, but it wasn’tthatbig. Perhaps there were additional rooms in the coaching house.
“It’s good to be out of the madhouse,” Stewart said as they rounded the top of the hill. “I thought we’d escaped London, but it appears my aunt and uncle have invited the entire city to stay here at Hurtle House!”
It had been Stewart’s suggestion to take a ride around the grounds and perhaps out into the village, and Alexander had eagerly agreed. The feeling in the house was intense, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself searching for Miss Charlotte among the sea of new faces.
And yet she evades me.
“It does feel like London has followed us, doesn’t it?” Alexander said.
“At least Lady Lucille isn’t amongst the crowd,” Stewart said with a snort. “That would be rather dramatic.”
Alexander started, realizing he hadn’t thought about Lucille once in a number of days, his mind so consumed by Miss Charlotte instead—a much more attractive prospect in more ways than one.
He’d wanted to get her alone again in the hopes of reenacting the kiss, and though she frustrated him beyond measure, he found himself craving her company too. He couldn’t think why. He had dreamed about her several times since the kiss, imagining all sorts in that garden.
He pictured himself hitching up her skirt so that he could place his flat palm on the round of her buttocks. Even in his dreams, he could feel her muscles tighten and twitch at his touch.
He knew the smoothness of her flesh instinctively, could easily imagine the way his rough hand would run over her gentle femininity. If only he had thought to pull down the neckline of her silk gown that day in the garden and nuzzle his face into her breasts.
She would have dark nipples, he thought, ones that stood out against the paleness of her alabaster skin. How he’d like to feel her quiver beneath his touch as he flicked his tongue over them.
“You’re thinking of her now, aren’t you?” Stewart said. “You really need to find a way of getting her out of your head. You’ll never find a solution to your financial problems if you are thinking all the time of love.”
Alexander shot his friend a glance. “Who said anything about love?”
Stewart scoffed. “You mean to say it is not love? Anyone with eyes would beg to differ.”
“Of course it is not love!” Alexander cried, outraged that Stewart was even discussing the matter, let alone accusing him of being in love. Why, he’d hardly met Miss Charlotte in truth, and though she undeniably stirredsomethingwithin him, to call it love was simply madness.
“If it was not love, then why were you so terribly devasted when she betrayed you with Carmeyer?”
“Carm… er… oh!” It dawned on Alexander that Stewart was not talking about Charlotte but Lucille. “Yes, well, that was…” He cleared his throat. “That was unfortunate.”
Stewart threw him a curious look. “Youweretalking about Lady Lucille, weren’t you? You were thinking of her?”
Alexander felt his cheeks flush, and he hoped they hadn’t turned red. They must have, though, because Stewart threw his head back in laughter.
“Goodness, I knew she’d caught your eye, but I didn’t realize you had itthatbad.”
“I do not know who you are talking about,” Alexander replied, carefully and firmly enunciating every word.
