Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

I t had taken Alexander all of his self-control not to watch Lady Charlotte walk past his office earlier that afternoon on her way to her room. Out of his peripheral view, he'd noted a fan in her hand when she returned, so he could only assume that was why she had removed herself from her mama's at-home for a minute or two.

What he had not failed to see was Lord Anson's amusement, coy smiles, and eagerness toward Lady Charlotte the entire time he was present.

The sound of the afternoon tea carried through the house, a cacophony of idle gossip and laughter, and Lord Anson's continued and irksome tone as he tried to court Lady Charlotte.

He may not have been able to hear the words clearly, but Lord Anson's intention left little to the imagination.

Alexander dipped his quill into the ink and finished adding up several invoices due for Duke D'Estel before closing the ledger for the day. As much as his opinion of Lady Charlotte's society was often scathing, he could see what attracted her to Lord Anson—a wealthy, handsome viscount who was personable enough from what he knew of him about town. He was neither cruel nor a rake. Quiet and reserved were characteristics often mentioned when his name came up in conversation.

After Lord Anson had called and asked for Lady Charlotte's hand, the duke tasked him with finding out everything and anything about the viscount. So far, the gentleman had proven to be one of the most uninteresting men in the ton .

A good outcome for Lady Charlotte but bad for Alexander, especially if he wished for the duke to see him as more than just a steward—a gentleman suitable for his daughter, no matter his common beginnings.

Not that he was entirely sure Lady Charlotte would welcome the idea of being courted by someone of his station, but he wasn't so blind as to miss the subtle signs of interest. Those moments when their paths crossed her gaze lingered a little too long, her eyes bright with curiosity and something else he dared not name. It was as if there was an unspoken connection between them, one that flickered to life in the quiet exchanges they shared and in those brief, fleeting looks when no one was watching.

Or perhaps that was merely her nature, and he was utterly mistaken.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, tossing the quill onto the desk and staring out into the foyer, only to see Lady Charlotte walking into his office with determined strides.

"Mr. Richards, a word if you please."

He sat up and checked that his attire was in order. After a day at the desk, he needed a walk and a bath, but neither was possible before speaking to one of the ladies of the house.

Satisfied that he did not appear as ruffled as he felt, he stood and gestured for her to sit on the chair before his desk. "Of course. What can I help you with, Lady Charlotte?"

"Well, Lord Anson has asked me to ride with him tomorrow in Hyde Park, and I've just found out that Billy, who works in the stables and always accompanies me, is unwell, and I have no one to chaperone. Unfortunately, my maid cannot ride, and with my hand still a little sore, I thought perhaps you might ride out and assist me if required."

"Me?" he asked, pointing to himself like a child. He set his hands on his lap and forced them to remain there. "I do not think that is appropriate, as I have much work to do for the duke."

"Oh, Papa will not mind. You are, after all, his go-to man, are you not, when giving information regarding Lord Anson? Father will welcome you escorting me, as it will give him more knowledge."

Alexander opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find the words to refuse when, in truth, none would do. Lady Charlotte was correct, unfortunately. The duke would indeed welcome him to escort his daughter for a ride in the park if only to gather more intelligence on how the courtship was progressing.

Which, after his attendance that afternoon, was going splendidly well—damn it all to hell.

"Very well, I suppose I have little choice." His words came out curt, harsher than he meant, and Lady Charlotte pouted prettily, arresting his attention far longer than he should have allowed.

"Do not say such things, Mr. Richards or I'll be led to believe you do not like me at all. I hope we're friends, at least. You work closely with Papa. I know he values your opinion and mathematical mind. The least we could be is a friend, yes?"

Alexander cleared his throat, unsure how to answer the question. Yes, he wanted her as his friend—more than that, in fact. Damn his wicked soul. The thought of her warm laughter shared only with him, of those soft, lingering looks deepening into something far more intimate, had plagued his mind more than he cared to admit. Friendship would never be enough, not with Lady Charlotte. He craved her closeness, touch, heart—all the things he knew he had no right to want.

But she was so different from others in a society that went against everything he held so dear in his life. He wanted to keep her at an arm's length, but how very hard that was becoming the more time he spent in her company.

"I think it is best that we remain acquaintances, Lady Charlotte. I cannot call you a friend. It would not be appropriate."

She tipped her head to one side, studying him with her large, blue eyes—such a pretty shade, dark like the deepest oceans filled with mystery and secrets.

"Well, I think it would be very much appropriate. I wish for us to be, and that is who we shall be. While I do not expect you to listen to my frivolous speeches regarding fashion and shoes, we may speak on other topics."

"Such as?" he asked, realizing too late he should not prolong this conversation. They had already spoken at length alone, which was not right.

"Such as, what are your thoughts on Lord Anson? Should I marry him? Finding a husband is on my to-do list this Season, but I'm still uncertain about him. I find I do not desire him."

He shifted in his seat, wishing himself anywhere but in front of Lady Charlotte. Desire him? Dear God in heaven, please would the ground open up and swallow him.

"I cannot speak to you of passion." Or he might accidentally slip in a word or two on how much he craves her. On this desk, legs spread, his tongue…

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm his heart.

"I do not wish to kiss him at all. Do you not think that strange?"

At the sound of rustling, he opened his eyes to find Lady Charlotte moving around to his side of the desk. She leaned against the mahogany, crossing her arms and looking down at him in a way that reminded him of his late schoolmistress, stern and disappointed.

"When a woman is kissed for the first time, there should be mutual desire, do you not agree?" Her gaze softened and dipped to his lips. Alexander inwardly groaned, needing to halt this flirtation and bring it to an end.

He stood, towering over her. "I think you should do what you wish with Lord Anson and leave before another word is spoken. I am not the man to be discussing these things with you. I'm sorry."

"Really? Well, how disappointing." She smiled and moved without another word toward the door. "I'll be riding at eleven sharp tomorrow, Mr. Richards. Be ready at the mews for me. I don't like to be kept waiting," she said, leaving him thankfully alone.

He breathed a sigh of relief, only to be bombarded by her sweet scent of vanilla. The woman was trouble, and he needed to keep his guard up before she somehow found a way to lower it.

And then there would be no hope—not for either of them. One taste of Lady Charlotte, and he would not want to let her go, not even for the duke or his aversion of her kind.