CHAPTER SIX
T he bookshop had always been one of Charlotte’s favorite places. In here, she could lose herself for hours, not worrying about Jane or Mama’s expectations, or the opinions of the ton sheep.
It never troubles a wolf, how many the sheep be.
Lord Fenwick’s words had been something of a mantra in her head since he’d whispered them to her that day at the Serpentine. She hadn’t been able to put them, or him for that matter, from her head.
She wandered down the aisle filled with history tomes, her mind wandering right along with her. The twins had hurried of in search of their outrageous novel. And much as Charlotte had tried to be high brow about the situation, she’d found herself pressing some coins into Joanna’s hand and telling her to grab an copy if they found them. Then she’d skulked off to the history department to wait.
She wasn’t as brave as the twins, not by half. She wouldn’t brazen it out and ask the elderly bookseller if he stocked such a thing.
She trailed a hand along the dusty covers as she went, losing herself in the silence and smell of books. Nobody was in this part of the shop. In fact, it didn’t look as though anyone had been to this part of the shop in a while. She couldn’t even hear the chatter of other customers from this far back.
It was just her, and the dusty books.
“Miss Forrester.”
Charlotte nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a deep, masculine voice shattering the peace. She spun around, hand pressed to her chest, to see Lord Fenwick only inches behind her.
“What are you doing, skulking around bookshops?” she blurted, the fright loosening her tongue.
At that, he raised one, arrogant brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Her hackles rose even though she’d started it. “I am not skulking,” she said. “I just – your sisters are purchasing books and I needed to find the um.” She looked to her right, scrambling for a title because she absolutely was not going to admit that she was here for the same, bawdy novel his sisters were.
He’d probably ban them all from purchasing it.
“Find?” he coaxed.
Her eyes landed on the first title. “ Course of Lectures on Natural Philosophy ,” she said with absolutely no conviction.
Well, drat. This was an unfortunate aisle to be caught in.
“Natural Philosophy” he repeated with a sage nod. “Funnily enough, I too have read the work. I had no idea you were a scholar of such things, Miss Forrester.”
She wasn’t. At all. But she couldn’t very well admit that now.
“Oh, yes,” she enthused. “Q-quite so.”
“And Mr. Young’s work in particular appeals to you?”
Charlotte frowned up at him.
“Who?” she asked.
Lord Fenwick’s lips twitched, just a little. “The author of the book you’re buying,” he explained calmly.
“Oh, yes,” she twittered like an idiot. “Yes, indeed. Mister, um, Mr. Young. Love his work.”
“How fascinating,” the earl said. Then, after a pause; “which ones?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Which of his theories in particular appeals?”
Charlotte had never wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole so much in her life. She stared up at the earl, who gazed back with rigid patience, her mind scrambling, her heart hammering.
“Um,” she hedged. “The one about the – ah .”
She quite literally could not think of a single thing to say. Not one word that would sound like she knew anything about who this Mr. Young was or what his philosophies were.”
The silence grew painful until suddenly, Lord Fenwick broke it by laughing of all things. A deep, throaty chuckle that made her stomach flip. She couldn’t stop staring at the transformation on his face. He was beautiful when he laughed. Not just handsome but truly beautiful and it made her feel – odd, hot and bothered and far too mesmerized by him.
“Why don’t we just pretend that I believe you and you can go and collect whatever inappropriate novel my sisters are procuring for you, hmm?”
Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?” she asked.
His face grew more serious again, but the smile still hovered around his lips, and his eyes were warmer than she’d ever seen them. “I know my sisters, Miss Forrester. I know that despite my best efforts, I cannot keep them from that drivel. And since you are clearly no expert on natural philosophies, though you gave a valiant effort at pretense, I’m going to assume you are here for the same reason they are.”
She knew she was well and truly caught so there was no point in denying it any longer. “I’m surprised, my lord, that you haven’t bodily dragged them from the shop.”
He frowned down at her. “Why would I do that?”
“Well, isn’t this just another thing to disapprove of? I didn’t think you would be so cavalier about something you deem inappropriate.”
She might have imagined it, but charlotte thought he flinched ever so slightly. “Ah, I have become such a boor that I would keep them from reading something they enjoyed, then? I didn’t realise.”
He almost sounded – hurt at the idea. Which was insane. But Charlotte couldn’t shake the thought and suddenly, she found herself wanting to comfort him, of all things. “I think they understand that you are trying to take care of them, my lord,” she offered quietly. And it was true, she thought. The girls did find his rules and protectiveness a little restrictive. Well, very restrictive. But they loved their brother. It was obvious in every conversation. And they appreciated him, too.
He sighed and she expected him to ignore her, perhaps even lecture her on sticking her nose where it most certainly shouldn’t be. But then he surprised her all over again.
“It hasn’t been easy,” he confessed. “I’m sure they’ve given you lists of my many mistakes.” There was a shocking sense of openness that Charlotte knew instinctively nobody else got to see. “I am not the brother to them that I was before my father died. When I became the earl, I became so much more than that. Their guardian. Their protector. The man responsible for making sure they are safe. Responsible for choosing husbands who will treat them with kindness and respect.”
Charlotte could only listen, marveling at his honesty, her heart becoming dangerously affected by this man and his vulnerability.
He shook his head, laughing a little. “Our own mother ran away for Christmas because she couldn’t control them. And since I wasn’t around much in their youth I thought that rules and regulations, stuffy parties and boring friends would prove what a responsible guardian I can be. Perhaps I have gone too far given that they think I won’t let them read their books . Not that that’s stopped them, clearly.”
It was Charlotte’s turn to laugh now. “I think it would be rather difficult to stop them doing anything they wanted, Lord Fenwick,” she said with a grin. “But perhaps a compromise of sorts would be a wise. A way to tame their fire, rather than try to extinguish it.”
“Hmm. And I think they’re not the only ones with that particular brand of fire in them, Miss Forrester.”
Their gazes caught and Charlotte suddenly felt as though her blood was made of fire. Her heart hammered so loudly she was surprised it didn’t echo around the shop.
“Strangely enough,” he continued, his voice soft and infinitely dangerous, “I don’t find that I mind it as much in you.”
Oh, lord. Her stomach clenched in the most wanton of ways at his words.
This was new. So new and so different, and so exciting. The earl had made his low opinion of her very clear. And she didn’t even like him.
Did she?
He stalked closer until there were only inches between them.
Charlotte had to crane her neck just to meet his eyes. The scent of sandalwood surrounded her, setting gooseflesh breaking out along her skin.
His head tilted, just a little.
She leaned up, just a touch.
The very air seemed to still between them until –
“Charlotte! We have them. Quick before Jasper. Oh.”
They sprang apart as the twins rounded the bookshelf, their eyes darting between where Charlotte was standing with cheeks that she knew would be flaming, and the earl who looked insultingly unfazed by what had almost happened.
“Before Jasper what, Joanna?” he asked, cool as anything.
“What? Oh.” Joanna nonchalantly moved her paper-wrapped bundle behind her back, where Harriet took it and began to back away. “I was going to say before we kept you late,” she said demurely.
It was the least convincing performance Charlotte had ever seen.
“Ah,” he nodded as though he believed her. “So you weren’t going to say ‘before Jasper catches us with the novels he won’t want us reading’?”
Joanna’s eyes darted to Charlotte who quickly shook her head to indicate that she hadn’t tattled. “Harriet, make a run for it and hide them somewhere,” she hissed.
“Hide them where exactly, Joanna? We’re in the middle of London, for goodness sake.”
“He’s going to take them then.”
“We’ll just have to buy more.”
“I can hear you,” Lord Fenwick informed them with a long-suffering sigh. “And I’m not going to steal your damned books.” But Charlotte saw it again, that flicker. That regret.
And even though it was none of her business, she found herself interfering in their sibling squabble.
“Actually, Lord Fenwick was just telling me how fun the Thames fair sounded and how much he would like to join us tomorrow.”
They all three turned looks of consternation on her. Two pairs of blue-gray eyes, and one filled with an icy fire that she would not stop thinking about, she was sure.
“Isn’t that right, my lord?” she coaxed. “Weren’t you just saying how you would like to do something fun?”
She kept her face serene as he glowered at her, but then he turned his head and took in the twins’ dubious but hopeful faces, and released another, heavier sigh. “Yes,” he conceded, admitting defeat. “That’s exactly what I was saying.”