Just a Kiss (4 page)

Chapter Four

Amelia took a sip of her tea and gazed at Charlotte expectantly. “What about Lord Ravensdale? I’ve heard he’s quite wealthy.”

Charlotte walked to the sideboard to add more eggs to her plate, nodding to the footman stationed at the door as she passed. “Well, aside from the fact that he’s a known rake, he frightens me. His lips are too thin, and his eyes are set too closely together. He reminds me of a bird of prey.” She sat across from Amelia.

“Perhaps you’ve discerned the origin of his family name.” Amelia dabbed her mouth with a serviette. “Nevertheless, I think it’s safe to remove him from the list. What about Lord Sunderland?”

“He seems nice enough, but I believe he must marry for money.” Charlotte spread a generous portion of jam on her toast.

“Then we’ll cross him off the list as well. Isn’t there anyone you like who’s capable of supporting you?”

Heat rushed to Charlotte’s face.

Amelia grinned like a small child who had just been given a chocolate biscuit. “I knew it! Who is it?”

“Lord Marley, but he…” She stopped speaking as someone approached the door.

Elizabeth stormed in. “Do you actually think Lord Marley will make an offer for you?” She sat at the head of the table. “Lord Marley, the most eligible bachelor in London? The one who can take his pick of any girl in Britain? How provincial you are.”

Amelia’s eyes flashed. “Mama, you assume too much. We were merely discussing the relative merits of Charlotte’s prospects.” She tossed her fork on the table, pushed back her chair, and left without excusing herself.

Relations between Amelia and Elizabeth had been steadily declining, and Elizabeth’s insistence that Charlotte marry Horace was not helping matters. Whenever possible, Charlotte avoided being with the two of them.

Elizabeth motioned for the footman to fill her plate. “Instead of focusing on the faults of your suitors, you should consider your own behavior, Charlotte. You must desist in rearranging flowers in public like a common housemaid.”

Her statement hit like a kick to Charlotte’s stomach. She prided herself on the distinctive arrangements she made from the flowers they grew at Burdett, though Elizabeth evidently did not wish for it to be known who created them.

Her pride wounded from Elizabeth’s stinging remark, Charlotte excused herself. Richard’s town house was neither the largest nor the most grand in the neighborhood, but it was favorably situated near Hyde Park, where she could find fresh air to clear her head. Charlotte invited Nanny Filcher and her nephews to join her in exploring the park, which would likely be largely uninhabited this early in the day.

“Charlotte,” Elizabeth called as they prepared to leave, “do return promptly. Horace is to call on you this afternoon.”

Just what she needed to brighten her day. Perhaps she would find a way to be ill if she could not be late.

As they walked to the park, five-year-old Michael tugged on her skirts. “Amelia says you’re going to be married and move away, but I don’t believe her. You’re always going to live with us, aren’t you?”

Charlotte stopped and knelt next to him. “I will have to move to a new house someday, darling. I can’t live with you forever.”

A tear slid down his cheek. “You’ve already been living with us forever. Why can’t you stay?”

“When a girl marries, she has to move to her husband’s house. But I promise I’ll visit you as often as I can.” She wiped away his tears.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “All right, I guess. But I’d rather you just live with us forever.”

Charlotte smiled. She just might, since no one but Horace had shown any interest in marrying her yet.

After more than an hour of brisk walking and a rousing game of tag, the boys settled down to investigate a fountain while their grateful nanny rested on a nearby bench. Charlotte chose to continue walking. Of all the gentlemen she’d met since her arrival in London, there was only one she imagined herself wanting to know more intimately. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair. Both Charlotte’s thoughts and her momentum were abruptly halted when she crashed into a horse blocking the path in front of her.

“I say, Miss Lightwood, are you all right?” Lord Marley said. It was as if her imagination had conjured him to appear in this very spot.

The timbre of his voice set her heartbeat into a staccato rhythm. Despite the protection afforded by the rim of her bonnet, the sun shone so brightly she had to shade her eyes as she gazed up at him. “Yes, I am fine, thank you, Lord Marley.”

The horse shook its head, and he loosened the reins. “Then why did you walk into my horse?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Why did you position him in the middle of the path?”

He returned the wave of a gentleman trotting past along Rotten Row. “I’d thought to greet you, but had I known you meant to attack my horse, I would have moved on.”

“I did no such thing.” Charlotte stroked Lord Marley’s very fine bay gelding along his neck and shoulder. “He’s beautiful.”

Lord Marley momentarily appeared as if he’d sat on a thorn. He cleared his throat before speaking. “If you step back, I shall dismount so we can converse more comfortably. I know how overwhelmed you must be by my illustrious presence, but I shouldn’t wish to be the cause of you injuring your neck.” His eyes sparkled with mirth.

Charlotte let out a disgusted snort and stepped back.

“Why, I do believe that is the first time I’ve been snorted at by a lady.” He swung down from his horse.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever
noticed
a lady snort at you, more likely,” Charlotte said mildly. She noted a spaniel trotting along behind the man on horseback. A wave of longing for her own dog unfurled inside her, and she cursed Elizabeth for forbidding her to bring her dog to London.

He raised one brow but declined to comment. “May I walk with you?”

“Of course, my lord. Please call me Charlotte. I do not like to be called Miss Lightwood.” In truth, she was no longer accustomed to responding to her surname. Everyone now called her by her given name because Elizabeth didn’t wish for Charlotte to be confused as one of her offspring.

He tapped his riding crop against his boot. “As you wish. You may take leave to call me Sebastian.”

Charlotte slanted her head back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face, which was rare this time of year. Lord Marley sighed. Their eyes met when she turned toward him.

He drew his brows together. “Does your family call you Charlotte? It seems rather a long name for everyday use.”

“As opposed to Sebastian,” she said, giving him a sideways glance. “I am sorry the recitation of my name is too taxing for you, my lord, but I have no other. You may revert to calling me Miss Lightwood if you prefer.”

“I guess I shall have to be satisfied with Charlotte. And you are supposed to call me Sebastian.” He returned her sideways glance.

“Sebastian.” She liked the sound of his name. It rolled off her tongue quite pleasantly. “What about you? Don’t you have a sobriquet I should use?”

“None I can repeat in front of a lady. And none I would wish you to use.” Without warning, Sebastian stopped and searched the area. “Where is your maid? Surely you are not without an escort.”

Charlotte stroked his horse again. “I’m here with Nanny Filcher and the children.”

He nodded. “Ah, that explains your disheveled appearance.”

“My what?” Her gloves were a bit soiled, but she could find nothing amiss with her dress. Perhaps the hem was a tad dirty, but that wasn’t uncommon when one went out walking.

“It’s not your dress so much as your hair that contributes to your general state of disheveledness.” He reached out and ran his fingers down the length of a loose tress.

A rush of heat suffused her. She attempted to tuck her hair back into her bonnet. “I don’t believe disheveledness is a word, my lord.”

“It should be. Is dishevelment more to your liking? I expect it would work in this situation.” He waved toward her dress.

She swallowed, his nearness momentarily stealing her words. “Yes, my lord.”

He frowned at the scene behind her. “
Miss Lightwood
,” he enunciated with the utmost formality, “are you certain there is a nanny attending those children?”

When Charlotte turned, she was not surprised to see her eldest nephew, Jacob, attempting to scale the fountain. “Yes, she is on one of those benches over there.” Charlotte waved vaguely to the left. Sebastian’s gelding stomped at a fly, and she brushed it from his shoulder. Being around the gelding made her long for her own horse. “I do so miss riding, but I was unable to bring my mare to London.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I have received such conflicting information of you as to be left very confused. You are reported to be the half sister of Sir Richard Lightwood, you have no dowry, yet you own a mare.”

“It is quite impertinent of you to speak so bluntly of my circumstances.” Charlotte resumed walking. She hid a smile when Sebastian lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

“How am I to assist you in finding a husband if I do not know which gossip I am supposed to spread about you?” He raised his brows.

“I have not yet agreed to your proposition.” But she would. It was her only chance to avoid marriage to Horace, and it would allow her to spend more time exchanging banter with Sebastian before they promised themselves to others.

“I am confident you will.” He patted his horse.

Charlotte sighed. “Richard is my half brother. He inherited my father’s estate upon the death of my parents, which included the burden of serving as my guardian. As for my horse, Lady Lightwood’s mare once escaped her stall at an inopportune time, and since the filly’s sire was unknown, she couldn’t be sold. So she was given to me.”

Sebastian still seemed perplexed.

“I give you my permission to share any information about me you deem to be useful,” she said, more softly than she had intended. His proximity inhibited her ability to think coherently, but she understood that his greater experience with society made him a better judge of the correct information to spread.

He flashed her a roguish grin. “I am gratified you trust my judgment.”

Charlotte snapped out of her dazed state. “Gratified? Most gentlemen of my acquaintance would be horrified to be considered adept at gossiping.”

“Ha. They might pretend to be horrified, but it is no small feat to be skilled at navigating London society. I am quite proud of my abilities.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Very well. Since I have far less experience than you, I shall defer to your greater knowledge.” She turned to meet his gaze. “If I am to be of use to you, I shall also need to know which gossip to share about you with Princess Tarasova.”

Sebastian cringed. “What have you heard?”

She grinned, enjoying his discomfort after experiencing so much of it herself. “You are as rich as Croesus, have no living relatives aside from the dowager countess, and are expected to marry this season and produce an heir as soon as possible. You are considered the most eligible bachelor in London.”

“I’m quite certain she’s already heard about those attributes. I’d prefer you mention my good looks and charismatic personality.” He pretended to straighten his cravat.

“I figured it wasn’t necessary to state what seems to be so obvious. At least to you.”

Sebastian sniffed. “I fear you will damage my confidence if you continue to flay me with your words.”

She ignored his comment.

“We need to talk more about you. Since you aren’t blessed with my natural ability to attract fortune hunters and title seekers, we shall have to find something with which to tempt them.” His tone was teasing. “Are you at all musical?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid my niece inherited all of the musical talent in my family.”

He stopped walking and folded his arms across his chest. “Do you draw? Paint watercolors? Come, there must be something at which you excel.”

She traced a pattern on the walking path with her foot. “I’m an avid reader, fluent in French and Italian, and well-versed in European history.”

He widened his stance and leaned back against his horse. “Though I find that intriguing, I don’t believe it’s the sort of thing that would attract a suitable husband.”

She let out a huff and lifted her head to meet his eyes. “I am excellent at fencing, am a more accurate shot than any of the men at Burdett, and I excel at riding astride, but I’ve been informed by Elizabeth it is not proper to discuss those skills in public.”

Sebastian took a deep breath and pressed his palm to his chest. “I am quite terrified. She’s right to advise you not to speak of your unusual skills. No man wants to marry a woman who is more accomplished than he.”

Charlotte could think of no proper reply. She hadn’t planned to blurt those things out, but it bothered her that he might think she was without talent.

Sebastian nodded at a passing acquaintance, then focused on something in the distance. He pointed toward the fountain. “Is that the children’s nanny asleep on the bench over there?”

Charlotte let out a sigh and turned in the direction he indicated. “That does explain the lack of supervision. I don’t think she’s accustomed to taking so much exercise.” She counted heads to make sure all the children were accounted for. The sun was much higher in the sky than she expected. She glanced around, noting several ladies partaking of the walking path as well as riders along Rotten Row. “I suppose it is time to take the children home, and I should be getting back so I can prepare to receive callers.”

His eyes crinkled. “You have to prepare in order to receive callers?”

“At the very least I shall need to repair my disheveledness, won’t I?” Charlotte bent down to pluck a few daisies. She added a few dandelions and some Queen Anne’s lace and soon had a small bouquet.

Sebastian flashed her one of his slow, enchanting smiles that pulled all the air from her lungs. “Be certain to save the calling cards of your visitors and bring them with you to the Paddon ball.”

“Whatever for?” she said, her voice squeaking slightly.