Chapter Three

CeCe felt confident leaving her mother's bedchamber. The Baroness did indeed seem to be on her way to recovery, and she even seemed a bit guilty about all the time and attention CeCe had been giving her. Silly mother. Of course, she would do everything she could to help her get better.

CeCe skipped along the hallway, feeling cheery and bright for the first time in weeks. She was going to spend time with the Rotherford family, and truthfully, they were just an extension of her beloved family members.

She was so grateful Mariah had thought of a fun evening out. She dearly loved all the brothers, though her favorite was Charles. He had been her champion steadily through the years, especially with her twin brother Elias, who had been so apt to tease.

Charles was smart and funny. He liked a lot of the same things that she did. But he was witty in a way that always tickled her funny bone. He made her feel better about herself. There was something comfortable about him. When she told her friend Maddie back in London that he was her best friend, she hadn't been lying. There was nothing that she couldn't talk to him about.

Glancing down at the robin's egg gown, she noted the stark difference between this beautiful dress and the boy's breeches she used to wear as a young girl. CeCe would steal an old pair from Elias to race around the countryside, fishing, hunting, and swimming just like the boys. CeCe smiled, remembering those days from yesteryear.

"Why must we grow up?"

CeCe hadn't realized that her question had been spoken aloud until a deep voice answered, "Surely being a grown-up isn't all that bad, is it, Peanut?"

"Charles!" CeCe exclaimed, glancing up and seeing him all dressed in his dinner clothing. CeCe rushed over to throw her arms around her old friend. "I'm so delighted to see you! While it is true that I would be happy to see almost anyone at this point, I am delighted to see you. I've been shut up in this house for much too long!"

The last of this exclamation was muffled into his broad chest. He was so warm and comforting. And she stayed there another moment before giving him an extra squeeze and releasing him.

Charles laughed as he gently set her away from him, "You wound me, Peanut! Almost anyone?" he teased.

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't want to see the baker or a dressmaker. You know how I feel about the dressmaker. She hates me," CeCe teased as she leaned into him, her aquamarine eyes flashing. She grinned and then raced off. "Just a moment. I need to pick up my wrap, and I left it on the table."

"Let me assist you," Charles murmured softly, taking the wrap from her hands and settling it across her bare shoulders.

His fingertips lightly grazed her fair skin, and, to CeCe's surprise, goose bumps began to rise on her arms. The heat from his fingertips caused a fire to develop in her belly. That was certainly new and decidedly unexpected. It had most definitely never happened to her before.

"I must be colder than I thought," she shivered absentmindedly as she walked ahead of him to the door.

CeCe was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. But when she realized she was walking alone, she glanced over her shoulder.

The look she gave him was arresting, making him stop right in his tracks. CeCe was a mixed bag of innocence and sensuality. With every move, she unconsciously exuded grace and charm, and he felt the familiar tightening in his breeches. He covered it with a cough. "Peanut, you've left your gloves behind. And I would like to escort you to the carriage. My mother did raise a gentleman, you know."

CeCe grinned, thankful they were back on familiar ground. "Mariah raised three gentlemen, Robert, Spencer, and, of course, yourself. Sadly, however, my mother couldn't turn me into the young lady that she had hoped. So that you know, your gentlemanly powers are wasted on me."

Charles laughed, "You, Peanut, are one of a kind! Who would want a boring young lady anyway?"

CeCe's smile dimpled. "My thoughts exactly!"

***

According to local gossip, Charles Rotherford was the second son of a wealthy landowner. Second sons were not normally what one would want for their daughter. However, the Rotherford family was so filthy rich that he could have been the twelfth son, and women would still have been lining up for him.

All the Rotherford boys were shades of blonde and well-built outdoorsmen, lovers of dogs and horses. They were not city dwellers or members of the peerage, seeing as the bulk of their fortune came from trade.

Richard and Mariah had a decidedly lackadaisical approach to religion. They believed in God and that their children should believe in something, but they needed to figure that out for themselves. They also had very forward opinions politically and in their home and tended to be open-minded while raising their children.

It was quite possible that had they not been so incredibly wealthy, they may have been shunned in the highest of circles. But money has a way of opening even the tightest of doors. It certainly helped in all things political.

Robert worked alongside his father with the families that lived on their lands. He and the steward had made many of the upgrades necessary to compete with their grains and cattle. Robert was tall, just over six feet two, and had an impressively muscled frame and a handsome face to look upon. What Robert wanted, be it from a lady or a farmer, he usually got it.

Spencer was the shortest of the three brothers, although many would not consider a six-foot height short. He had a much slenderer build, much like his brother Charles; however, Spencer and Charles were well-muscled and in excellent shape, just slightly less so than Robert.

Spencer was enamored with history. Often, he would forget where he was as he delved into the past, one book at a time. He started publishing articles in the Gentleman's Quarterly at the tender age of nineteen and looked forward to a time when he could travel more and extend his vast knowledge. Spencer had begun to spend more time in London with his academics. Presenting his findings and attending other lectures, Spencer was often absent-minded, thinking more about the subsequent study or seminar than what was around him. He was never unkind. Spencer loved his family and would do anything for them.

Stuck in the middle of these brothers, Charles was as tall as his brother Robert and as lean as his brother Spencer. Charles spent much of his time running the factories that his father owned. Some would look down upon him for dabbling in trade, but his lineage was just as pure as the next aristocrat, and, to be frank, he didn't give a damn what people thought of him, anyway.

Charles had a secret that he had carried in his heart from the tender age of nine. Charles Rotherford was irrevocably, unintentionally, and undeniably in love with his best friend, Celia Grace St. John. And much to his dismay, or even at times, delight, she didn't know of his true feelings.

While escorting CeCe to the carriage, he noticed her spine's long, gentle curve. Being so tall, it was nice to be with a taller woman with whom he didn't have to slouch or walk slowly. He noticed her bare shoulders, soft as satin, which he had happened to touch while helping with her wrap. He noticed the way her bright auburn hair had glistened in the candlelight and how her eyes always seemed to be alight with intelligence and humor, sometimes even mischief. He noticed the impossibly small width of her tiny waist and her small breasts thrust forward by her corset, practically begging him for attention. Oh yes, he had it bad.

Trying to bring his focus back to the conversation, he heard CeCe mention that her friend Lady Madeline had married the Earl of Saxton.

CeCe looked a bit sad at this news, and he had to ask, "Do you not wish them to marry?"

"It's not that. I assure you, I want every happiness for Maddie! She's one of my dearest friends. But I am a bit disappointed that I couldn't attend because of Mother's illness. Oh, and I'm also out ten pounds on a stupid wager with Elias."

Charles tried to stifle a smile, but she saw it anyway. "Go ahead and laugh! I never win betting against him. I really should stop doing it. But he's my twin and thinks that, because he is a few minutes older than me, he is infinitely wiser."

"The cad," Charles said, his smile breaking into light laughter. "Whatever were you betting about this time?"

"Oh, Elias wagered that Saxton would wed Maddie, and I bet that she would pick Benjamin. Elias won, and I lost. Hence, I owe him ten pounds."

"Was it clear from the start?" Charles asked.

"Yes, that much was certain just being in the same room with them. Any idiot can tell when one person is in love with another."

Charles snorted at this.

CeCe looked at him curiously and to take her mind off his lapse, he blurted, "Perhaps you should see if you can double the wager?"

"What do you mean?" CeCe asked, looking interested.

"Why don't you bet on something else? You could say double or nothing."

CeCe thought about this for a moment. "That's a brilliant idea, Charles!"

She grasped his arm, and he felt the heat from her fingers run all the way through him.

"What will the bet be on?" Charles asked her.

CeCe slumped. "Oh, I hadn't thought of that." And then she brightened. "I could bet on myself. Lord knows, I have no intention of ever getting married."

"So, you are going to wager him that you will remain unmarried by season's end?" Charles inquired.

CeCe grinned. "This is brilliant! I shall put out hints that I have found someone."

Charles felt a little disheartened. "Then you must write to him about the new stakes of the wager."

"I will! You always make me feel so much better. You are such a dear man." Squeezing his arm once again, she went to leave the carriage, and it was then that Charles noticed that they had been stopped for a while with the groom holding the door open. He cursed himself internally, wishing that he hadn't let her run ahead as he stared after her like a lovesick fool.

Nothing like looking like a nincompoop in front of the servants... heaven help him.