One Week To Wed. Laurie Benson
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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.
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