Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

A fter Lord Anson left their afternoon tea, Charlotte sat outside for several more minutes, leaning back in her chair and staring at the sky, pleased with how the afternoon had turned out.

She had experienced her first kiss. Granted, it was not with the man she would have liked to have kissed, but at least she was a little more versed in the act, and with any fortune, perhaps she could try it again—this time with Mr. Richards.

She dared not look toward the house. Mr. Richards had agreed to chaperone her from afar and should have been seated in her father's office, which gave the perfect view of where she had sat with Lord Anson.

Had he seen her kiss his lordship?

That he hadn't stormed outside and chastised her for being fast told her he had not. A shame, for how else was she to make him green with envy and willing to perhaps finally break those rules that he liked so very much?

She stood and started back into the house with nothing left to do. She had the Southwell ball this evening—an event she could not miss—and she would need to tell Genevieve and Matilda about her kiss this afternoon. They would probably be displeased that she had kissed Lord Anson and not her preferred gentleman, but what was one to do when the preferred gentleman continued to be annoyingly proper?

"A word, Lady Charlotte."

The sound of Mr. Richards's deep, brook-no-argument tone caught her off guard, and she jerked before comprehending what he'd asked.

Her maid stopped, her book clutched firmly against her chest. "Go on ahead and have a bath drawn for me, please, Jane. I shall be along in a moment."

"Yes, my lady."

Charlotte waited until her maid was halfway up the stairs before she turned and entered her father's study. She schooled her features, not wanting Mr. Richards to see that the sight of him working in her father's library could only mean one thing.

He'd seen her outside having afternoon tea with Lord Anson and would have seen the kiss.

Was this why he'd called her into seeing him?

She raised her brow, hoping she gave off an air of innocence before seating herself across from him. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Richards?" She paused, not entirely sure what his stony features meant. Was he jealous? Or just plain angry that she'd been a little scandalous?

"Mr. Richards, I'm a little busy and need to get ready for this evening's ball, so please tell me why you've asked me into Father's office. I must make haste, you see."

He leaned back in her father's chair, and in truth, he suited the image of a lord in an extensive, opulent library, surrounded by history and human thoughts on the page for others to read and enjoy.

"Lady Charlotte, you asked me to chaperone you from afar this afternoon, and I agreed—merely because your father, the duke, might I remind you—asked to be kept informed about your courtship with Lord Anson."

Charlotte nodded and hoped he would get to his jealousy any moment now. The man was really taking a long time to admit his feelings for her.

"I think you would agree when I say your father would be greatly displeased if I told him of your conduct with Lord Anson." He stood and paced behind the desk, a deep frown between his brows, making him appear far more ominous than ever.

And far more handsome.

Charlotte debated this fact momentarily before his words, and what he implied, registered.

"You cannot go about kissing titled gentlemen and not expect to marry them. I will have to inform your father of what you have done today, and he will be left with the decision whether to make you marry Lord Anson or not."

"You cannot do that." Charlotte stood, discombobulated and offended by his words. How dare he act so high-handed! "Father need never know what I did this afternoon if you do not snitch on me, Mr. Richards." She paused, leaning on the desk. "How disappointing of you to act so mean-spirited."

"Me?" he said, pointing at his chest. "How have I acted disappointingly? Why are you kissing Lord Anson when you've told me yourself you're not interested in marrying him?"

"Well, a kiss never hurt anyone," she explained, truly lost for ideas as to why she wanted to kiss the viscount. And she certainly couldn't say the truth, which was standing before her, looking at her with displeasure. He was the reason she had kissed Lord Anson—merely to make him jealous, which didn't seem to have worked. Not unless he was very good at hiding his sentiments.

"You should not lead the man on if you're not going to marry him."

Charlotte went around the desk and halted Mr. Richards's pacing. "I thought you were going to tell Papa what I did and take the decision out of my hands." She looked up at him, wanting him to admit he would do such a heinous thing. "I thought we were friends."

"There are still rules by which you should adhere as an unmarried young woman of means."

"Oh please," she sighed, hating the arrogance of his words. "Why should women always be the ones to adhere to the rules, do as we're told, not step out of line, or cause a scandal, when young men do it every day of their lives? And even continue to do so when we're married to them. I kissed a man, nothing more or less. Do not act like such a prude."

"I am not a prude, Lady Charlotte."

"Really?" She crossed her arms and smirked. "You certainly seem like you are. Always do what Papa wants and orders you to do. Do you not ever think for yourself?"

His nose flared, and his eyes narrowed. She sensed some emotion other than indifference for the first time since she'd known Mr. Richards. Had she finally prodded a little hole in his pride?

"If I thought for myself, which this position does not allow, I would never work as a steward and especially not for anyone titled."

"Really, and why is that?" she asked.

"Because," he said, closing the space between them, towering over her and making her feel as small as an ant. "Because if I allowed myself to act on everything I thought, I would have kissed you in the carriage the other evening and not cared one wit that you're a duke's daughter. Hell, I may have even pressed for more. Do you know how close you were to being ravished?" He stepped closer still, and she instinctively stepped back before her bottom came up hard against the bookcase. "How much I wanted you, to kiss your sweet, plump lips." He ran a finger over her bottom lip, and she gasped.

His touch sent a fire to burn within her body, and heat pooled between her legs. His eyes darkened, barely a breath of space between them. "You know I want you. That's what you've wanted me to admit for weeks now. Do you truly want to know what I want to do to you, Lady Charlotte? Because once those words are spoken, they can never be taken back."

Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her mouth dry, she fought not to spin into a dizzying dream that had finally come to reality. "I want to know what you want to do to me, Alexander. I want to know everything."

Without warning, he picked her up and set her on the bookcase, stepping between her legs as best as he could with her voluminous skirt.

"I want to taste every part of your person," he said, grinding against her core. She'd never felt the overwhelming yearning for more in her life. She set her hands on his shoulders, not wanting him to leave her unsatisfied, the scent of sandalwood and desire teased her senses. "I want to hear my name on your lips when I bring you pleasure. I want to kiss you whenever and wherever the hell I want."

"You want me?" she gasped, needing to hear him repeat it, even though she was beyond any doubt now.

"I want you, including in and out of my bed." His hands tightened on her waist before he stepped away and moved toward the desk. "And if you allow Lord Anson ever to touch you again, I'll kill him. I'll not watch you kiss anyone again. I know your game, Lady Charlotte, and I don't particularly appreciate being played. Do you understand?"

She slipped back onto her feet and raised her brow. "Are you telling me what to do, Mr. Richards?"

He stared at her, his gaze dark and untamed. "I am, and you'd better adhere to my rules unless you want your precious Lord Anson to be called out on a field of honor where I will shoot him between his eyes."

Charlotte stared, uncertain if he was jesting, but something told her he wasn't and that she needed to carefully think about how she responded.

"I understand, Mr. Richards, but know this," she said, "I will not wait forever for you to kiss me or do any of those other delightful things you mentioned."

She smiled at the determination she read in his eyes as she moved toward the door, her steps light and satisfaction thrumming through her veins. Her plan to make him jealous seemed to have worked. Jolly good—now she just needed to make him do what he'd teased her with. Like him, she didn't like to be played, and he had better not leave her to find her fun elsewhere for too long.

She wasn't a patient woman.