“Peach is a much better option,” Charlotte replied with a smile. “When are your parents arriving? I thought they would already be here.”
“Father’s been held up by some business or other, and of course Mother couldn’t possibly travel without him—but that just means we get to enjoy ourselves a little before they arrive!”
She returned her attention to the board. Though beating Chelsea was always easy, she always liked to test her own skill. She often wondered what it would be like to play against a man, for she had only done so with her uncle, Elliot, and she was certain he let her win because she was a ‘mere’ woman. She wanted to pit her intelligence against a worthy opponent, and yet her apparently fairer sex meant she never got the opportunity.
She imagined a man’s hand, large and rough from work, reaching out across the chess board to cup her cheek. She would send the board flying across the room to straddle his lap as she’d read about in the novels she’d kept hidden beneath her pillow lest Lydia find them. She would shower him with kisses, her tongue running across the flesh of his neck. She would nuzzle into his chest, caressing the thick muscles and—
“I quite agree,” Chelsea said, interrupting her fantasy.
“Agree with what?” Charlotte said, blinking as she came back to herself.
Chelsea snorted with laughter. “That we get to enjoy ourselves a little before my parents arrive, silly! I didn’t realize chess required quite so much of your attention.”
Charlotte’s cheeks flushed, but she lowered her head, hoping Chelsea would not notice.
Chess. Think of the chess.
“Of course. And in the meantime,” Charlotte said, glancing up at her as she picked up her rook and rolled it between her fingers, “there will be plenty of peace and quiet.”
“About that,” Chelsea said, half an eye on the chess piece. “You do know it won’t be quiet for much longer, don’t you?”
“Ah yes,” Charlotte said. She put the rook down, knocking off one of Chelsea’s knights. “The infamous arrival of the family.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “You mock too easily, Charlotte. There are a lot of people due to trickle in for the wedding. Mother and Father have invited half of England. I’m sure I haven’t met a single one of them.”
“As is their prerogative,” Charlotte pointed out. “It’s their chance to show off what a beautiful daughter they have and how well she has done marrying a man such as Lord Leming. You should be proud. It’s your turn.”
“Oh, I am,” Chelsea clarified. She made no move to take her turn. “I am looking forward to seeing family in particular. And I must admit, I feel a little like a princess. All this fuss, just for Leonard and I.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. The nameLeonard Lemingwould never stop being amusing to her, but poor Chelsea hadn’t seemed to notice.
“You deserve it,” she said instead. “Take your turn.”
“But that’s not what I meant,” Chelsea said with a shake of the head. “We still have weeks beforetheyarrive. But my cousin is due any day now.”
“Take your turn,” Charlotte repeated, a little firmer this time.
Chelsea sighed. “But I’m tired of chess. Why don’t we go for a walk instead?”
Charlotte laughed. “Because you are losing?”
“Because I don’t have a logical mind like yours!” Chelsea retorted. She rose from her chair and began walking around the grand drawing room, her fingers brushing across fabrics and materials.
Her mother had always favored grandeur over subtlety. The walls were lined with flowery wallpaper and the furniture upholstered with damask fabric. The chandelier was far too big for the room, and the grand piano had been polished to within an inch of its life. But somehow, it all stillworked.
Charlotte shrugged, then picked up her queen and dotted the piece around the board unhindered, easily taking out Chelsea’s king and knocking it off the board. She grinned to herself, satisfied with the results, then turned and looked at Chelsea.
“You don’t have the patience, you mean.”
“Either way.” Chelsea shrugged, her brightness showing a lack of care one way or another. “But that matters not. What matters is the imminent arrival of my cousin and his friend, the Duke of Ashbourne. Did I tell you about my cousin, Stewart? He’s coming early to help with the preparations. Surely I mentioned him? In fact, you met a few times when we were girls.”
Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had no desire to find herself embroiled in a match-making situation, and had she realized that she might be at risk of that, she never would have come to Hampshire at all.
Unless he is willing to break the rules with a turn in the woods and a flash of flesh.
“I remember a gangly older boy, if that’s what you mean,” she replied blandly. “But no, I can’t say you mentioned his early arrivalbeforeI agreed to come.”
“He is my favorite of all my cousins,” Chelsea beamed. “I think you’ll like him.”
