One Week To Wed

It wasn’t until Ann tapped the side of her slipper with her foot that Charlotte realised she must have been staring at him.

‘Charlotte,’ Toby called out. ‘How good to see you.’ It appeared the men were heading to another area of the house but her friend, always the perfect gentleman, walked into the room to greet her.

It was taking considerable effort on Charlotte’s part to keep her eyes fixed on Toby, which was absurd. The man next to him should not have captured her attention in such a way, but he possessed such an ease of movement, like one who was comfortable in his skin, that it was impossible not to sneak one last glance at him.

Toby gave her a friendly smile. ‘I’m so glad you were able to join Ann tonight.’

‘It was lovely to receive her note.’

‘May I introduce my friend?’ he asked, gesturing to the man beside him. ‘Lady Charlotte Gregory, may I present Lord Andrew Pearce. Lord Andrew this is Lady Charlotte, a childhood friend of Ann’s. Lord Andrew and I are old college chums from Cambridge.’

Lord Andrew took a step forward and gave a respectful bow. Candlelight played through his silky hair. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.’

The deep pitch of his voice rumbled through her body. There was no warmth in his eyes or expression, just a keen watchfulness, as if he was studying her, before he turned to Ann and offered another respectful bow.

‘I did not expect the two of you home this early,’ Ann said, looking pleased with the unexpected encounter. ‘I imagine, Lord Andrew, there is little to entertain a man late at night in this part of the country. It must be rather dull, compared to what you’re accustomed to.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘Lord Andrew is from London,’ she informed her yet again before turning back to him. ‘Lady Charlotte has a sister who lives in London.’ There was a helpfulness to her tone and her eyebrows rose as if she fully expected his attention to shift to Charlotte.

Dear God, was Ann trying to find her a husband? Is that why she had invited her here?

His eyes skirted briefly to Charlotte before he addressed Ann’s question. ‘While I am partial to London, you do have some well-run establishments here that serve fine food and good ale. That is all a man truly needs.’

Thank heavens, he did not feel obliged to follow Ann’s direction and converse with her. If Charlotte could think of a polite way to excuse herself, she would leave immediately.

‘Would you care to join us for tea?’ Ann raised her white cup with pink rosebuds. ‘A good cup of tea and a seat by the fire are lovely on such a windy night as this.’

The men looked at one another. Whatever silent communication passed between them seemed to indicate Lord Andrew did not object to curtailing their plans to sit with them for a bit. The four wingback chairs made a cosy, inviting group around the hearth, but before the men where close enough to choose a seat, Ann had to open her mouth again.

‘You may sit there, Lord Andrew,’ she said, gesturing to the chair beside Charlotte. ‘And you may sit by me, Toby.’ She gave her husband a beaming smile, patting the cushion of the chair beside her.

Charlotte caught the disapproving purse of Toby’s lips. Why had she never noticed Ann’s lack of subtlety before?

‘You never did say why you returned so early from the village,’ Ann continued.

‘Word was spreading throughout the inn that the roads were getting rather treacherous,’ Toby replied, watching Ann retrieve two teacups and saucers from the tea stand beside her.

‘Treacherous? But we had been walking in the garden a short while ago. There was nothing to indicate we should be concerned for the quality of the roads.’

‘A storm is coming down from the north. After hearing of it while we were dining, I had no interest in having one of our horses injured or being forced to turn back because a tree had fallen and blocked the road, so we ended our dinner early.’

‘Did you go to the Swan and Swallow?’ Charlotte asked, finding an urge to draw Lord Andrew into the conversation, which had nothing at all to do with the sound of his voice.

But now that his attention was back on her, she once again found it unsettling.

‘We did,’ his deep voice rumbled. ‘Are you from the area, Lady Charlotte?’

‘I was raised in Warwick, but now reside here, near the Knightlys. The Swan and Swallow is a fine choice for a man looking for a bit of excitement, more so than the White Hart.’

She felt the stares of Ann and Toby more than saw them, since her attention was fixed on Lord Andrew.

He shifted his body slightly, as if he was studying her just as much as she was studying him. ‘And I appear to be a man looking for excitement? I assure you, I came to the country seeking pleasant conversations with my old friend and bucolic pastures for riding. Excitement is the furthest thing from my mind.’

‘Then you will be happy you have chosen our sleepy corner of the world. You won’t find much to excite you here.’

‘Except on a night like this.’ His gaze dipped momentarily to her lips, then travelled lower before his eyes locked with hers.

Could he possibly feel what she was feeling, too? Just the sight of him and his voice was making her insides flutter. She didn’t like the sensation. It was unsettling to say the least. She tried to look away, but she noticed a small birthmark just under his right eye. It was just a small mark, but it was enough to keep her attention on his hazel eyes, framed with thick dark lashes.

‘And what excites you this evening?’ she said in a breath, not able to completely gather her voice.

There was a distinct pause while he seemed to taste his own lips. Was he a man who preferred ale or wine with his dinner? Were there remnants of either on his lips?

‘The weather is proving enough excitement,’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair and startling her out of her musings. ‘With tales of carriage accidents, your village has been full of harrowing stories.’

She blinked a few times, recalling the thread of their conversation. Of course, he meant the weather and not being close to her! What a foolish woman she was to assume he was referring to the way he felt meeting her. She had never flirted with a man in her life. She and Jonathan grew up together in a comfortable friendship. They had never flirted with one another.

Would she even know if a man was flirting with her? Apparently not, since she thought Lord Andrew had been—and she had had the unnatural desire to flirt back!

Charlotte took a sip of tea so she wouldn’t open her mouth again and make a cake of herself. Thank heavens no one else in the room had any inclination of what she had mistakenly assumed. She needed to leave before she started to blush.

* * *

Andrew rubbed the back of his neck. What possessed him to utter a flirtatious comment to the woman beside him? He never flirted with respectable women and didn’t recall drinking that much ale with dinner.

It was obvious from the lavender of Lady Charlotte’s gown she was in mourning, which made flirting with her completely beyond the pale. And to make the situation even worse, he would guess it was her husband who had passed away based on the gold signet ring she wore around her neck...a very graceful, long neck which was accentuated by the gauzy fichu tucked in the neckline of her silk gown, obscuring any view of what appeared to be enticing cleavage. A few wisps of her wavy black hair had come loose from her upswept coiffure and contrasted sharply against the white fichu. But it was her lips that continued to draw his attention. They were full and rosy. And when she spoke, he was imagining her biting down on those pillowy lips in the throes of passion.

Mrs Knightly cleared her throat and held out a teacup to him. How long she had been sitting like that, he’d rather not contemplate. ‘The roads are that treacherous?’

‘Quite,’ Toby confirmed, his attention on the tea his wife was fixing for him.

‘Then Charlotte must stay the night,’ Mrs Knightly stated, pouring milk into his cup.

The woman beside Andrew let out the faintest gasp, which stirred his blood.

‘Certainly, they cannot be so bad. And I have not brought anything with me. How can I possibly stay?’

Mrs Knightly waved her hand dismissively after handing Toby his tea. ‘We are practically the same size. I’m certain I will find things to fit you. If the roads are as bad as they say, it’s safer for you to remain here tonight.’

It was apparent Lady Charlotte had no interest in spending the night, and who could blame her after the blunder he had just made. What recently widowed woman in her right mind would want to be near a man who flirted with her?

Lady Charlotte looked to Toby for help. ‘Please inform your wife the roads are not that bad,’ she practically pleaded, raising her brows high above her green eyes for emphasis.

Much to her obvious displeasure, Toby was no help. ‘But you will be heading straight into the storm on your way home. Ann is right. The roads are becoming hazardous with the mud and trees are at risk of coming down. It took us nearly an hour to travel here from the village. You should stay, Charlotte. It is much safer for you, your driver and your horses.’

Not once had she looked at him since their awkward exchange. Could Toby not see that she would rather go out into the stormy night than remain in the same house with Andrew?

‘There,’ Mrs Knightly stated, appearing rather pleased, ‘it’s settled. You will stay the night.’

Lady Charlotte placed her teacup on the table to her left, beside the hearth. ‘It’s not settled. For it to be settled, I need to agree.’

Mrs Knightly took a leisurely sip of her tea. ‘Surely you do not want to risk injury. Don’t you agree, Lord Andrew? Isn’t it safer for Lady Charlotte to remain here until morning?’

Why did she have to drag him into this? He looked at Lady Charlotte, who was blushing while staring wide-eyed at Mrs Knightly. He was such a dolt when it came to respectable women. He couldn’t help himself from wanting to spend the evening between the thighs of the enticing widow beside him. Those lips of hers were calling to him every time she spoke, stirring certain parts of his body.

‘I said wouldn’t you agree, Lord Andrew?’ Mrs Knightly reiterated because, apparently, she thought he hadn’t heard her the first time.

‘Yes, it would be best if you stayed the night.’

In my bed, where I’m certain I can incite more of those gasps.

He cleared his throat. ‘As much as I’m sure it’s an inconvenience, the conditions were deteriorating by the time we arrived here. They probably have only got worse.’

As if she didn’t believe any of them or didn’t hear the rain pelting the windowpanes, Charlotte went to the window. It gave him an excellent opportunity to admire her shapely form as she walked across the room. He shouldn’t be looking at her. She was a woman in mourning. She was not the kind of woman he should notice in any way. She should be like wallpaper; you’re aware it’s there, but you couldn’t describe it five minutes after you left the room.

To shake himself out of staring, and before she turned and noticed, he looked towards the fire and caught the amused expression of Mrs Knightly.

Taking a drink of tea, Andrew tried to think of an inconspicuous way to let Toby know they should leave the ladies. He had no wish to make Lady Charlotte uncomfortable. Being repulsed by an attractive woman was not something he strived for.

‘In the moonlight, you can see how muddy the ground has become,’ Lady Charlotte said on a sigh, turning away from the window. She trudged back to her stuffed chair and lowered herself on to the cushion with a defeated expression.

‘I promise you will not have to stay here for days. The morning sun will dry out the roads and you will be able to leave by midday,’ Mrs Knightly replied reassuringly.

Lady Charlotte reached for her tea. ‘I hope that’s true.’ Her gaze briefly met Andrew’s before it skirted to Toby’s wife. ‘Very well, but I refuse to be more of an imposition than that. I will leave as soon as the conditions improve.’

‘You are certainly no imposition,’ Mrs Knightly said with a genuinely warm smile. ‘We adore having you here.’

Lady Charlotte smiled back at her friend and then glanced once more at him before she took a long sip of her tea. A soft pink flush edged its way up her neck. It was impossible for Andrew not to picture the rest of her body flush with that rosy glow after an enthusiastic encounter in the sheets...or in a carriage...or...

No wonder the woman was eager to leave. She probably knew what he’d been thinking.

As if watching a performance at the theatre, Mrs Knightly let her attention float between Andrew and the woman beside him. The auburn-haired wife of his friend was not very subtle. He was certain Lady Charlotte had not missed her friend’s attention.

He looked over at Toby and caught his eye, curious to see if his friend was as eager as his wife to promote a match.

‘Lord Andrew and I were on our way to the billiard room,’ Toby offered to no one in particular. ‘We would hate to impose on your conversation any further, ladies. I’m sure we interrupted some bit of town gossip.’

‘But—’

Toby arched a brow, and Mrs Knightly did not continue. At least he had a friend in Toby Knightly.

While he found Lady Charlotte strikingly attractive, he would not pursue her. She was a widow in mourning, not the kind of woman open for a dalliance. Even more importantly, once she was out of mourning a respectable woman like Lady Charlotte would be looking to marry again. With the dangerous life he led, he would not take a wife. And no woman would want to be attached to a man who was capable of doing the things he had done in his life.

Yet he did know he would be thinking about her and those enticing lips when he lay in bed later that night. Now, he would pass the remainder of his evening in the pleasant company of his friend, enjoying a competitive game of billiards and drinking what he hoped to be fine brandy.

‘Lord Andrew, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Lady Charlotte said with what appeared to be an apologetic smile.

Andrew stood and placed his teacup on the table before politely tipping his head to her. ‘The pleasure was all mine. If I do not see you before you take your leave tomorrow, I wish you a safe journey home.’

‘Thank you, and you as well.’

Strolling out of the room with his friend, he wondered if she was an early riser.

Chapter Five

Charlotte adjusted the blue cashmere shawl Ann had let her borrow the night before as she followed her friends’ footman to the breakfast room. Before she even reached the doorway the scent of coffee and bacon drifted on the air. It smelled delicious. At least she would not go home hungry.

There were no sounds coming from the open doorway. Apparently, she was the first one awake and ready to start the day. Dining alone and in silence was nothing new. She had been doing it for years and, considering she was forced to wear this jonquil gown that Ann had loaned her, she really did prefer it that way. No matter what Ann said, Charlotte knew it wasn’t possible for her not to have any grey or lavender gowns in the house. Every woman she knew kept mourning clothes on hand for when she needed them.

The footman stopped before the open doorway and stepped to the side so she could enter the room. But when she crossed the threshold her body froze at the sight of Lord Andrew, sitting at the oval table reading the newspaper placed beside his plate of food. Her feet refused to move while she stared at him.

It was early—much too early for a man from Town to be awake. Yet there he was with his head down and his broad shoulders defined by a bottle-green-coloured coat. His head turned slightly as he continued to read, without any indication that he knew she was watching him. She took advantage of his occupied state to study him further and noticed the slightly crooked slope of his nose. It appeared he wasn’t even aware his fingers were flicking the upper-right corner of the paper as he read.

A flurry of butterflies circled inside her stomach. She took a steadying breath and forced her legs to move, stepping further into the room. The movement must have caught his attention because he looked up, locking his eyes with hers.

It was impossible to determine if he found her unexpected presence an annoyance, since his expression was unreadable. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he stood politely and remained that way until she took the seat opposite his.

‘Good morning,’ he said, sitting down. The deep pitch of his voice settled somewhere near her stomach, sending those butterflies into a frenzy and ensuring she would not be able to eat a thing.

‘Good morning,’ she replied in return, relieved her voice gave away nothing about the physical effects his presence was having on her. He was just a man. Why was he muddling her senses? His eyes were on her as she searched the room for a footman and realised they were completely alone. This was highly irregular—and highly inappropriate. She turned back to the doorway and noticed the footman had closed the door behind her after she had entered.

‘That pot of tea was brought in a few minutes ago,’ he said, motioning with his fork to the porcelain pot to the left of her place setting.

She took note of the coffee pot beside him and knew Ann preferred chocolate to tea in the morning. Someone had been notified Charlotte was on her way downstairs. When she looked back at him, their eyes met and she really wished he would go back to reading his paper and ignore her. It had been years since she had been alone in a room with a man, and her stomach did an odd flip. She eyed the bacon and toast on his plate. He had selected crispy pieces of meat, which were her favourites.

‘I can recommend the bacon, if you like it rather well done.’

Her stomach still hadn’t settled down, and she gave him a polite smile. ‘Thank you, but I find I’m not hungry this morning.’

His brows rose just a fraction while he nodded. They stared at one another for a few moments longer before they both looked away. He busied himself with cutting into his delicious-looking breakfast, and she poured her tea. As she added a splash of milk, Lord Andrew slid the sugar bowl towards her.

‘Thank you, but I prefer my tea without.’ Charlotte had learned to economise over the years to ensure she would not have to marry again. She no longer had the taste for sweet tea.

‘You have my condolences on your husband’s passing, Lady Charlotte. I was going to express them last night, but hadn’t the opportunity. I assume this occurred recently.’

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Four years ago.’

There was a slight lift to his eyebrows. She knew most people who met her believed her to be newly widowed due to the half-mourning clothes she chose to wear. It was safer as a widow to be around men dressed in those colours. Unfortunately, she discovered there were certain men who believed a widow out of mourning was a woman who was ripe for seduction. The unwanted advances of Lord Aldrich the week she came out of mourning were enough to make her return to the safety of black, lavender and grey.

The ticking of the mantel clock, the wind rattling the window panes and the occasional popping of the logs in the hearth broke the silence that stretched between them.

Why had she not taken breakfast in her room? She might still have an appetite if she had. Now she was sitting alone with him, drinking tea and watching him eat. Occasionally he would glance at the door as if he, too, was expecting a footman to enter and confer respectability on their encounter. At times her gaze would follow his, mentally willing the closed door to open.

What if he was not attempting to strike up a conversation with her because he thought she was looking for a husband and had set her sights on him? Perhaps Lord Andrew thought she had arranged this with Ann! Where was Ann? Although it was too early for a Town gentleman such as Lord Andrew to be awake, it was not for country folk like Ann and Toby. She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. Why was Ann torturing her like this?

‘Are you well?’ he asked, drawing her attention away from what she planned to say to her friend the next time they were alone.

‘Forgive me, yes, I am.’ She lowered her hand and played with the napkin on her lap. ‘I confess, I did believe our friends would be having breakfast here at this hour. Had I known you were dining here by yourself, I would have left you to your peaceful solitude to enjoy your meal and read your paper without having to make polite discourse with someone you do not know.’

After spreading jam on his toast, he lowered his knife. ‘I see.’

She couldn’t tell if he believed her. She couldn’t tell if he thought her to be a widow in search of her next husband. Being trapped alone at breakfast with her would make it a logical conclusion. ‘I did not arrive here yesterday evening with a design to meet you. I did not wish to stay last night at all, but was forced to do so by the unfortunate weather and our rather insistent friends. And I did not come down for breakfast with the intention of being alone with you in this room in this compromising situation. It was all done by chance.’

He tilted his head while studying her, but remained silent. He didn’t believe her.

‘I am not a widow with a plan to trap you into marriage. If I were, I would have brought my own clothes last night. Instead, I’m forced to wear this gown that, while lovely, is yellow and I never wear yellow. At least I haven’t worn yellow since my husband passed. I can assure you, I would not be sitting across from you shining brighter than the midday sun if my plan was to entice you into marriage.’

She was rambling. Dear God, she wasn’t even certain what she had just said. Something about yellow...possibly? Her brain was not working with her mouth. It very well could be from lack of food. That bacon smelled so good, but her stomach was now clenched tight, as if it was trying to tell her that if she ate one bite, she would be seeing it again shortly.

Charlotte shifted her attention from the bacon on his plate to his unreadable expression. She really wished he would say something—anything. Heat was spreading up her neck. She should just excuse herself and return to her room. Or just leave the building entirely—and perhaps the town and county. She rubbed her brow again.

When she glanced over at him, she caught something that looked like amusement in his eyes as he chewed his toast. The shine from the sugar of the jam highlighted his top lip before he licked it off.

Involuntarily, she swallowed. She needed to get away. His presence was having an unsettling effect on her. She stood suddenly, startling Lord Andrew and bringing him to his feet.

‘I will leave you,’ she said, and before he could reply she turned and walked to the door. When she opened it, she was surprised to find a footman standing outside as if guarding the door.

‘Please see that my carriage is brought around in half an hour. I’ll leave a note for Mr and Mrs Knightly. I assume they are still abed.’

‘I believe so, my lady. I’ll see to it directly.’

‘Wait,’ Lord Andrew called out, holding up his hand and walking towards the doorway with his gaze fixed on Charlotte. ‘You cannot leave. It has started to rain again.’

Her head snapped to the window and her eyes widened at the sight of raindrops sliding down the glass panes. She looked at him and had the ridiculous urge to reassure him that she had nothing to do with the rain.

‘My lady?’ The footman’s voice broke the spell from where he stood beside them. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Lady Charlotte, the roads have not dried out and we don’t know if they are even passable. I think you are forced to remain a bit longer and, since our hosts are nowhere to be found this morning, that leaves it to me to convince you of the sensible course of action.’