Gentleman of Her Dreams (6 page)

“My mother has made certain I’m acquainted with most of the unmarried women in New York City. She seems to be under the misapprehension I’m in desperate need of a wife.”

Honestly, what could she possibly say to that?

“And yet, you’ve never met Miss Wilson,” Henry said, surprising her when he sent her a grin.

What was he up to now?

Hamilton turned his gaze on her, and while he did have lovely eyes, his gaze lacked the warmth Henry always directed at her. She swallowed a sigh of disappointment as the realization hit her that Hamilton just might not be the gentleman for her.

She was back to square one.

Maybe she was destined to be an old maid forever, but if that was the case . . . hmm . . . maybe she could devote herself to her tinkering, and then she could become known as the dear, dotty old maid who’d turned peculiar.

She bit back a snort.

That was hardly an appealing idea.

“I’m afraid I don’t travel in society all that often,” Hamilton said, “but I’m certain I would have requested an introduction if Miss Wilson’s path and mine had crossed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to readjust the sail so we can get the two of you back to shore. I’m sure you’re chilled, Miss Wilson, and I would hate to see you catch a cold.”

As Hamilton turned and walked away, Charlotte wasn’t certain, but she thought she detected stiffening in Henry’s stance, which was odd, considering the boat was currently pitching back and forth, and stiffening had to be difficult to pull off under these particular circumstances.

What had Hamilton said to cause Henry’s reaction?

Was it because he’d stated he would have requested an introduction or . . . was it because he’d suddenly turned charming?

Maybe Henry was jealous.

Maybe he didn’t want her to pursue Hamilton.

“Are you two getting married?”

Charlotte looked down and found Piper staring up at her, her head tilted to the side, curly wisps of hair straggling around her beautiful face.

The girl’s beauty reminded her that Hamilton’s wife had been absolutely lovely. She swallowed a sigh, remembering that she was hardly showing to advantage at the moment. She was missing a dress, her hair had lost the majority of its pins, and, for some odd reason, her skin was tinged with blue.

Perhaps she was suffering from overexposure.

She would have to visit her doctor yet again and endure his countless questions and dire predictions that she was headed toward an early demise.

She’d heard the good doctor’s predictions more than once over the years, and each time she went to see him, he always seemed surprised by the fact she was still among the living.

“Well, are you?”

She’d forgotten Piper was questioning her. Before she could formulate a suitable response, Henry spoke up.

“Miss Wilson and I are simply friends.”

Hearing the words come out of his mouth caused her stomach to drop.

He really didn’t see her in a romantic way.

“Then why does Miss Wilson get that sappy look in her eyes when you talk to her?”

She should invent a muzzle for children. Yes, that would be a most excellent invention, except for the part where parents would most likely balk at muzzling their little darlings. Still, it might have merit, especially for children like the too-observant child watching her so intently at the moment.

“I’ve never had a sappy expression on my face in my entire life,” she managed to say.

“Well, not now, now you just look mad,” Piper said before she spun on her little heel, turning after she’d taken only a few steps. “Don’t think about marrying my daddy. Ben and I don’t want another mother, and Daddy doesn’t have time for girls anyways.”

Charlotte decided right then and there it was time to abandon her plan in regard to Mr. Hamilton Beckett. Clearly the gentleman had plenty of other issues to deal with, and two of those issues certainly didn’t seem to care for her.

Being a spinster for life was looking more appealing by the minute.

Charolotte sent Piper a nod, watching as the child sent her a glare in return. The girl spun around again and made her way to Hamilton’s side.

“She’s very old for her age,” Henry remarked as he reached up and readjusted the blanket around her shoulders.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Charlotte muttered.

“What’s wrong with your hands?” Henry asked, taking them into his and turning them over. “They’re blue. You should have told me you’re freezing.”

“But I’m not,” Charlotte said. “I have no idea why my hands have turned blue.”

Henry looked at her for a moment and then pulled part of the blanket away from her.

“What are you doing?” she grouched. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not exactly properly dressed.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to blush,” he said before he closed her back into the blanket and grinned. “Your neck’s blue too, which leads me to believe the dye must have leaked out of your dress.”

“I paid a fortune for that dress.”

“Maybe next time you should have me go with you to the stores,” Henry said. “You know I have a better eye for fabric.”

Charlotte smiled and then sobered. “I’m sorry I talked you into taking out that boat.”

Henry blew out a breath. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who captains a large freighter every day. I should have looked the boat over more carefully and realized it was unfit to sail.”

He was always willing to take responsibility for everything she conned him into doing.

Why did he allow her to do that?

He was a strong-willed gentleman, and yet, with her, he gave in frequently, even when he knew there might be dire consequences.

He gave in because he knew she’d go forward with whatever plan she had in mind if he refused.

He obviously cared for her, but in a strictly platonic way.

“I’ll be right back,” Henry said, breaking into her thoughts. “I’m going to see if Mr. and Mr. Beckett could use some assistance. The wind’s kicking up, and these sails can be tricky.”

Charlotte watched as Henry moved across the sailboat, his feet steady and his gait rolling with the motion of the boat. She sometimes forgot he had lived the past two years of his life on the sea, but now, watching him, she realized he was at home on the water. At home as if he’d finally discovered where and what his life was meant to be.

A spray of water prompted her to move away from the edge, and she looked up just in time to see the boom heading straight toward her.

“Charlotte, get down,” Henry yelled.

Charlotte tried to drop, but the blanket got stuck on the railing, and before she could get a single sound out of her mouth, the boom made contact. She went flying through the air, but before she plunged overboard a second time, a strong arm grabbed her and pulled her to safety.

4

H
e needed to let Charlotte go.

As Henry rode in his carriage the next evening, on his way to meet Charlotte for the Watsons’ dinner party, he thought about how she’d almost died twice yesterday. If he counted her fall from the buggy, it was three times in less than a week.

He’d been careless with her, careless with the one woman who mattered more to him than anyone else in the entire world because he lacked the ability to say no to her.

She deserved better; she deserved more. She needed a man who could balance her impetuous nature, and clearly he was not the gentleman for that particular job.

It had taken every ounce of strength he possessed not to grab her out of Hamilton’s arms yesterday when that gentleman snagged her out of thin air and saved her from another trip into the bay. He should have been the one to rescue her, but he’d been distracted with the ropes and didn’t realize Charlotte was once again in harm’s way. The only thing that kept him from inserting himself between Hamilton and Charlotte was the knowledge that he obviously was not worthy of her. She deserved the opportunity to become better acquainted with Hamilton, a gentleman who had proven himself capable of keeping Charlotte safe.

He had to let her go, but first he would help her—help her in her quest to secure Hamilton. He would wait until she succeeded, and then he would leave.

He’d already informed his parents of his plan, told them he was anxious to get back on the seas and face the next order of business.

His mother hadn’t believed him.

She’d arched a brow and questioned what part Charlotte played in his decision to leave so soon after he’d arrived in New York.

His mother had always been annoyingly observant, but, to give her credit, she hadn’t pressed him when he relinquished relatively few details regarding Charlotte and his feelings for her. Instead, and much to his confusion, she had offered to secure him and Charlotte invitations to the Watsons’ dinner party.

She was up to something, something he didn’t really want to contemplate, but Hamilton would be attending the Watsons’ party, so he’d agreed.

She’d gotten him the coveted invitations, told him Mrs. Watson was only too happy to extend him one. She’d also added that she’d tried to convince Mrs. Watson to place Charlotte next to Mr. Beckett, but unfortunately, Mrs. Watson seemed to have plans for Hamilton—something to do with her daughter, Agatha. For a brief moment, hope had blossomed until reality returned. He remembered his vow, and he realized obtaining Hamilton for Charlotte might be a bit trickier than he’d imagined.

Not that Henry believed Hamilton wasn’t interested in Charlotte. There had been a very male gleam in that gentleman’s eye when they’d sat huddled on the deck and he’d held Charlotte close to him. Held her closer than was strictly necessary, if truth be told.

He’d felt the oddest urge to toss the bounder straight into the bay.

That would have handled the little problem sufficiently.

He’d almost done it too, until he’d looked down and found Piper watching him. There’d been something strange in the little girl’s eyes, something that had appeared almost like . . . pity.

He’d been certain he was mistaken until Piper looked from him, to Charlotte, to Hamilton, and then back to him before rolling her eyes and walking off to join her brother.

It was odd to have a child roll her eyes at him.

It was odder to be the object of pity. Even his mother had seemed a bit pitying when she’d actually ruffled his hair and presented him with the invitations.

He couldn’t dwell on it.

If pity was what it took to give Charlotte what she wanted, then pity he’d simply have to learn to live with.

He was going to do what was right.

He was going to get Mr. Hamilton Beckett for Charlotte.

Unfortunately, Charlotte didn’t seem to be cooperating with his plan at the moment.

He’d been certain she’d be thrilled when he handed her an invitation to the Watson’s dinner party yesterday, but she’d barely glanced at it before sending him a glare.

Not understanding why she was put out with him, he’d offered to take her shopping, but even shopping hadn’t improved her mood. When she’d tried on a lovely gown that would have been perfect for the dinner party, and he acknowledged that thought out loud, she’d spun on her heel, marched back to the dressing room, and, five minutes later, stalked out of the store without purchasing a single item.

It was completely out of character for her.

He was somewhat surprised that she’d allowed him to escort her tonight, seeing as everything he’d done since the boating incident seemed to annoy her.

He felt the carriage roll to a stop, and a moment later the door opened. He stepped out, taking a deep breath as he regarded Charlotte’s house.

Honestly, she had nothing to be annoyed about at the moment. She was well on her way to obtaining what she’d claimed she wanted, whereas he—well, he was more disheartened and disappointed than he’d ever been in his life.

He shook off the maudlin thoughts, summoned up a smile, and strode up the walk, his smile widening when Mr. Lewis met him at the door.

“Good evening, Mr. St. James,” Mr. Lewis said. “I see you survived your day of boating yesterday.”

“We lost the boat.”

“Good riddance, I say,” Mr. Lewis said with a nod. “Miss Wilson was fortunate to have you with her. I hate to think what might have happened if she’d been by herself.” He shuddered. “You know that would have occurred if you hadn’t agreed to go with her.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed to go with her, and I should have destroyed the boat so she couldn’t take it out.”

“Now, sir, that isn’t the way to look at the situation. Life is meant to be explored, and someone of Miss Wilson’s caliber will always want to explore it to the fullest. She’s lucky to have someone like you who won’t stifle her spirit but allow it to fly.”

For a moment, just a moment, his resolve faltered.

Mr. Lewis presented a compelling argument.

Charlotte was a free spirit, had always longed to fly.

Was he doing her a disservice by pushing her toward a gentleman simply because said gentleman would be a safer choice for her?

No, he couldn’t allow his thoughts to travel in that direction.

She’d chosen Hamilton.

She’d never chosen him.

He needed to accept that.

“Ah, Henry, you’re here. I was beginning to worry.”

Henry stepped over the threshold and was surprised when Mrs. Wilson pulled him into a hug. She rarely hugged him.

She stepped back and smiled. “It’s lovely that you’ve offered to take Charlotte to the Watsons’ this evening. I do so wish I could attend the dinner, but . . . Mr. Wilson and I have other plans, so I declined our invitation two weeks ago. It never occurred to me that Charlotte would want to go, but then, two weeks ago I didn’t know about her ridiculous plan to get closer to Mr. Beckett. I’m perfectly aware of the fact he’ll be in attendance tonight because Cora Watson has made it known that she would find him all too acceptable for her daughter, Agatha.”

“I’ve recently heard the exact same thing.”

Mrs. Wilson smiled. “Yes, well, no matter. You and I don’t need to concern ourselves with Mr. Beckett or Miss Agatha Watson. What we need to concern ourselves with is Charlotte. What do you plan to do with her?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“As you should, since it appears to me you’ve given up on her, which is completely ridiculous. The two of you are kindred spirits.”

“I don’t mean to disappoint you, Mrs. Wilson, because you know I hold you in only the highest esteem, but even though Charlotte and I are more alike than I care to admit, I’ve come to the conclusion I’m not good for her.”

“Nonsense, you’re exactly what she needs.”

He’d been right; Mrs. Wilson was his greatest ally, but . . . he needed to resist her tempting words.

“Charlotte doesn’t seem to really care for me at the moment.”

Mrs. Wilson let out a sigh. “She’s been distinctly annoyed with you ever since you returned her from that fiasco on the lake. At first I thought she was simply suffering the effects of taking in too much water, but after she got back from shopping, she took to roaming around the house, muttering under her breath, and I must admit, I’ve heard your name muttered more than once.”

Before Henry had an opportunity to respond to that, the sound of someone stomping down the stairs caused him to turn around.

He couldn’t hold back the snort that escaped through his nose.

Honestly, what was she up to now?

She was dressed in what appeared to be a gown, but the skirt of the gown was slim and . . . it seemed to be divided in two.

Good grief, she was wearing her bicycle outfit.

What would possess her to do such a thing?

She would cause a scandal.

She would ruin her good name.

“Lovely, you’re exactly on time,” Charlotte said as she stalked closer to him, her color high and her eyes blazing.

Right then and there, something snapped.

He folded his arms over his chest, tilted his head and then shook it. “We’re not going anywhere until you change out of that completely inappropriate frock.”

If anything, Charlotte’s eyes blazed hotter.

“I like this frock. It’s different, and since I’ve been considering trying to encourage other ladies to purchase one for themselves, I’ve decided that tonight will be the perfect opportunity for me to solicit interest in the design.” She smiled. “My friend, Penny, the lady who stitched this together, thinks it’s a wonderful idea.”

“Well, Penny, whoever she may be, doesn’t have to be seen with you tonight. I do, so you will march right back upstairs and change,” Henry said.

“Forgive me, but I’m pressed for time,” Mrs. Wilson said before she turned and practically bolted down the hallway, her shoulders suspiciously shaking.

Mrs. Wilson had obviously lost her mind, much like her daughter.

Henry waited until Mrs. Wilson disappeared and then switched his attention back to Charlotte. “If you’re not ready within the next ten minutes, I won’t escort you.”

Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest much in the same manner he’d crossed his and smiled a smile that was less than amused. “I’ll go by myself.”

This was what always got them into trouble. She’d turn stubborn and he’d give in. He couldn’t let her go by herself. She would attract entirely too much attention dressed as she was, and when Charlotte attracted attention . . . disaster normally followed.

How she’d survived during the two years he’d been gone was beyond him.

“Don’t push me tonight, Charlotte,” he said. “I’m in a foul mood.”

“Then you should be pleased you don’t have to escort me to the Watsons’,” Charlotte said. “You can go home and do whatever it is you do when you’re not with me.”

“I relax when I’m not with you,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Then go relax.”

It suddenly occurred to him that she was furious about something. He had no idea what that something was, but her attitude was so out of character that he found his temper fizzling away and replaced with concern.

“Did your mother tell you that Mrs. Watson invited Mr. Beckett because she’s hopeful of an alliance?” he asked.

“What?”

“Well, that’s what I’ve heard, and I thought maybe you’re out of sorts because you’re acquainted with Miss Agatha Watson and don’t want to compete with her over the same gentleman.”

Charlotte let out a grunt that sounded a bit disgusted, turned around, and stalked away from him, swiveling her head when she reached the steps. “I’ll be back. I’m going to change.”

He watched as she stomped up the steps and then smiled when her heavy footsteps sounded through the ceiling as she traveled the length of the hallway.

He’d forgotten how adorable she could be when she was in a snit.

“Is she changing?”

Henry jumped and turned to find Mrs. Wilson right beside him. “She is changing,” he finally admitted.

Mrs. Wilson looked absolutely delighted. “You do realize this is probably the first time she’s ever not gotten her way with you. I think your plan is working.”

“Mrs. Wilson . . . I don’t have a plan.”