He is no friend of mine any longer.
And Alexander was far too decent to reveal the truth about her salacious nature.
“You are thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Stewart said.
Alexander started and realized that he had his wine glass curled into his chest and that he had been staring into space. Staring into his own thoughts. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, putting the glass down.
“I was thinking about how good it is to be away from London,” he repeated, his mind seemingly unable to come up with something else. “And away from work.”
“It must be equally as pleasurable to be away from all those mothers trying to pair you up with their boring daughters,”Stewart said with a laugh. He picked at the breadcrumbs remaining on his plate, as if he needed to get every single last drop of food. “Don’t you find it tiresome?”
Alexander chuckled. “Sometimes, though I need only to tell them the figures on my ledger to ensure they stop. Debt will put off even the most eager of matrons. No one wants a pauper for a daughter, duchess or otherwise.”
“Ah, so we need to restore your coffers and then find you a wife,” Stewart teased.
Alexander threw him a mock glare. “On that unpleasant thought, I’m going to retire for the evening. I shall see you tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late, will you? We all know how you need your beauty sleep.”
Chapter 4
Charlotte woke before anyone else in the household, as she always liked to do. In a sleepy daze, she ran her fingers over her nightgown, twisting and pulling the fabric until she could feel the brush of the bedsheets on her bare skin. Her own touch was so soft, so daring, that it made the muscles in her stomach twitch and jump.
She walked her fingers down to the fine hair that pronounced her a woman, already matted with the slickness of her morning desire. She slipped a finger between her lips and allowed it to turn around and around the nub of her pleasure.
Charlotte closed her eyes. Her movements were slow at first, though they quickened along with her breath as she pictured herself as Chelsea had been. The bark of the tree rough against her back, a man’s stiffness eagerly pressing into her thigh. Her fantasy was so real that she could almost smell him, feel his hot breath on her neck as he pulled up her gown, searching, searching.
It was as he slipped a finger into her that she felt the release. The knot in her stomach unraveled, and Charlotte pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying out. The tension broken, she laid back on her pillow and caught her breath. Slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes again, welcoming inthe world and that rush of shame she always felt when she had satisfied her urging.
She dressed quickly and quietly in simple attire, twisted her hair into an easy knot, then slipped silently from the room. She tiptoed down the corridor, seeing not even a maid preparing the rooms at this early hour, and she left the house by the servants’ side entrance so as not to be seen.
The morning air was cool against her face, bringing her to full wakefulness. She raised her head, enjoying the sensation of the morning mist prickling against her cheeks. This had become something of a habit for her since arriving in Hampshire, and she rather liked it.
The mornings were so peaceful, so quiet. Most of the staff were yet to rise, and Charlotte had the sensation of being free. As if she were able to do whatever she wished without interference or opinion from anyone. It was a feeling she valued above all else, being who she wanted, whenever she wanted.
I should imagine this is how a man feels.
With a spring in her step, she made her way to the stables and saddled up the dappled gray mare. With her foot in the stirrups, she lifted herself up and over, making full use of the split in her skirt to straddle the horse as a man would. She grinned to herself. It was both deliciously naughty and wonderfully freeing, and with no one around to see her, it mattered not.
It was how her father had taught her to ride, after all, when she had worn trousers in secret. Indeed, she so rarely rode when other people were around because she never wanted to compromise on who she was. So many people found her odd, but she was just Charlotte, and she cherished who she was more than she cared for their opinions.
“Atta girl,” she muttered to the mare, leaning over her neck and brushing down her fur. “Let’s go to the lake, shall we?”
As if answering her, the mare began to move. The horse had learned the way by now, not needing much direction from Charlotte herself. They wound through trees thick with dew, across fresh paths not yet trodden, and over the hill until Charlotte saw the lake glittering below.
She paused, sitting tall upon the horse, and surveyed her surroundings. She wondered if that was how it felt to be lord of the manor. She giggled at her own silliness. She had no desire to be a man—goodness, why would she? She rather liked her own softness, her own tender flesh, and she knew how very lucky she was.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t also recognize how gentlemen seemed to have the far easier life. Far freer, too. Her upbringing and her natural feistiness had given her glimmers of that life for herself.
I will never give that up. Not for anyone.
She pushed her heels together and the mare began the descent to the secluded lake Charlotte had first discovered when she visited as a child. It had been a dreamy, magical place then, and it still was.
Hidden by the surrounding trees, the cool water called to her, luring her in to a secret, rejuvenating bath that smothered her in the secret sensuality she so dreamed of. Every time she swam, the water touched every part of her, caressing her as she so longed to be caressed.
She tied her mare to a nearby trunk, slipped off her shoes, then buried her toes in the sandy earth around the lake. Today, she decided, was going to be a good day.
***
Alexander woke feeling reinvigorated, if only for a peaceful night’s sleep in a comfortable bed. Despite the cool air of his room, the sun poured in through the crack in the drapes. He stretched and yawned, smiling to himself for the first time in a long time.
