Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A DAY LATER

B right sunlight streamed through the open, purple velvet curtains, wrestling Charlie from the dream she was enjoying. In her dream, she and the handsome earl were riding along the lush green grass that edged the cliffs, while the relentless surf crashed and foamed below when Lord Fitzwater challenged her to a race. Justice, was neck and neck with her mare, teasing and tempting her to go farther and faster, just as the earl did and Charlie was determined to win.

The rush of wind in her face exhilarated her as she raced beside him along the edge of the cliff. Leaning into the wind with her legs hugging the horse and her hair flying behind her, she urged the mare on. Sable was a nose ahead of Justice when the stinging persistence of the bright sun forced her eyes open.

Charlie stared at the opened curtains, frustrated that her abigail insisted on waking her this way, and realizing that her race with the earl had been just a dream. I would love nothing better than to ride into the future with that handsome man beside me. But that could only ever happen in a dream, she reminded herself. The earl would head home as soon as he was well enough.

Terribly sorry your delicious dream had to end. I would have closed that curtain, but I spotted that annoying night owl, and it was a perfect opportunity to see where he hides during the day , Chapelle expressed, as she sat on the pillow next to Charlie's head and examined the length of her nails.

"Not nice!" Charlie retorted aloud, taking back her negative thought about Millie.

A quick knock at the door announced Millie's entrance. The maid walked in carrying a tray of chocolate and biscuits. "Good morning, milady. Your grandmother asked that I remind you of Lady Rose's arrival. She should be here within the hour. And the modiste will be here at ten o'clock."

Biting back her irritation, Charlie swung the covers back and sat up. "I was having the most delightful dream." One that she knew she'd never get back.

"Yes, milady," the maid said, pulling a deep green day dress from the clothespress and laying it across the end of the bed. "I think your grandmother expects you to break your fast with her. She asked that I wake you early."

"I see." As much as she loved her grandmother's company, Charlie wasn't fond of her grandmama's habit of waking with the sun. She preferred to sleep later…and dream.

If it's all the same to you, I rather enjoy an early breakfast because it means I get my choice of the rashers of bacon. When you sleep late, I miss out on all the good bits because they get picked over by the staff. Chapelle casually hopped off the bed and sat expectantly by the door.

Don't forget who makes sure you get your bacon, Charlie reminded the cat. Mother would prefer you receive the same as the pigs, the staff's leftovers—porridge, and that sort of thing .

Chapelle glared from her position near the door. Need I remind you, my status is higher than that of the pigs ? It's their bacon I'll be eating. Besides, I'd like to see a pig try to ride an injured stallion.

"I brought your kitty a cup of cream, milady," Millie said, unknowingly interrupting the conversation.

Nice! You could learn a lesson or two from this one , Chapelle said, rubbing her front paws in anticipation. The maid laid a small bowl in front of the cat, who lost no time in lapping it up.

Charlie regarded her reflection as Millie helped her into the olive-green dress. The color highlighted her blonde hair and emphasized her green eyes, features that suffered when paired with washed-out tones, like pastels.

Do something simple with your hair. Don't forget, when the modiste shows up, she'll be pulling dresses on and off you, and those annoying pins will pop out all over the place. Besides, I'd like to get to the bacon, Chapelle said, cleaning her face with her white paws. I feel your earl would prefer your hair long, too, but probably for different reasons .

That's the first good suggestion you've given me, Chapelle, and I hope you're right about the earl , Charlie thought. "Millie, could we try to style my hair down this morning? The modiste will have us in and out of so many gowns that I fear an updo will come undone."

"That's an excellent suggestion, milady."

Millie helps me; I help her. It's what they call a symbiotic relationship , the cat continued, settling down to wait.

It's as if you and Millie are in cahoots to annoy me this morning , Charlie thought back.

The cat grinned. What can I say? Who doesn't like bacon?

Ten minutes later, Charlie made her way downstairs to the dining room, with Chapelle on her heels. When she opened the door to the room, it startled her to see Lord Fitzwater seated at the table. He struggled to stand.

"No! Please stay seated. I'm just glad to see you were able to join us. That must be a good sign, right, Grandmama?" she asked.

"I was determined." He shifted in his chair and winced. "It only hurts a little. A slight twinge of pain in exchange for sharing breakfast with two lovely ladies made it a simple decision."

The dowager raised her brows and gave Charlie a wry smile. "Your brother should be down in a minute," she said, and then turned to the earl. "We are thrilled to see you feeling better, Lord Fitzwater. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don't hesitate to ask. As I recall, the doctor will be by to check on you again this afternoon."

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I may be taking advantage of your hospitality. I overheard that there's a ball this week, and my guess is you may need all the room you have here," he said.

Charlie started. "Oh no, my lord. I'm afraid you misunderstood. We do have a ball coming up, but we have no expected guests staying here—except my friend Rose, who should be here shortly. Besides, our home has endless rooms. You and your manservant are welcome to stay on as long as you need to. Isn't that right, Grandmama?" she effused. "Nor, should you rush your recovery, or you may have a relapse."

Charlie saw her grandmother's brow arch, clearly intrigued by her words, and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Good grief! She even caught herself gushing. Why in the world couldn't she stop herself from blabbering?

A tap at the door preceded Harrison's entrance. He cleared his throat and announced, "Ladies, your guests, Lady Rose and Viscountess Agnes Wilburn, have arrived."

Phew! Rose had arrived just in time, giving Charlie an excuse to duck out for a much-needed diversion.

Grandmama clapped her hands together with enthusiasm. "This will be so much fun. Madame Soyeuse has promised the latest designs. I cannot wait to see them. She should be here within the hour."

Charlie noticed an uncomfortable look on Lord Fitzwater's face. "Grandmama, I'm certain our chattering on about dresses is tedious to a man's ears."

"Oh, on the contrary," the earl replied. "It's just that you seem to have a busy week ahead, and I do not want my presence to interfere with that."

"My lord, please do not feel unwelcome," Charlie said, hoping he would change his mind. "You simply cannot leave until your wounds have healed."

"Quite right!" agreed the dowager. "It seems busy at this moment, but we rarely have guests during this time of year. Even so, you simply must stay until the doctor feels you are well enough to travel. We insist." She glanced at her granddaughter. "The entire family and I welcome your company."

"Good! Then it's all decided. Lord Fitzwater and Mr. Bronson will stay on until the doctor has deemed you fit to depart," Charlie said before the earl could reply. "If you will excuse me," Charlie said, standing. "I will attend to Rose and her Aunt Agnes and see they are settled." With that, she hurried from the room.

Logan had hoped Lady Charlotte… Charlie …would stay longer. She had been his motivation for dragging himself out of bed and coming down to break his fast. While his wounds had not healed, the pain had become more manageable. When she had not returned to his room last evening, he decided he'd try to make it to the dining room for breakfast. But unwittingly, his asking about the upcoming ball had created angst. Other than the silent exchange between the dowager and her granddaughter, he was unsure what had caused Charlie to leave so abruptly. Maids usually prepared the rooms for guests, not the hosts—at least in his home. Something had made her uncomfortable and he couldn't be sure it wasn't him.

Adding to his confusion was the cat. It was nonsensical, but Logan had the feeling the creature was scrutinizing him in between bites and glares from the corner of the room as she devoured a plate of bacon.

He wanted to know more about this woman who could don men's clothing and fight like a man. Had it not been for those cat-like green eyes and that mane of glorious silvery-blonde hair that had haunted his imagination, he might have cast the memories of the other night aside as some sort of weird dream. Instead, the images had wrapped themselves around his unconscious mind until all he could think about was knowing her better. He was just getting ready to leave when a tall, fair-haired gentleman joined them. He looked like a male version of Charlie, except his hair was darker.

"Caden, darling, it's good for you to join us this morning," the dowager said before turning to Logan. "You may have noticed the similarities with his sister. This is Lady Charlotte's twin."

Logan cleared his napkin from his lap and started to stand to greet his host.

"Please, stay seated, Lord Fitzwater. It's enough that you could join us this morning. Viscount Caden Penrose, at your service." He extended his hand in greeting.

"Bronson told me you saw to our horses' care. I thank you for your kindness," Logan said.

"Yes. Mr. Bronson told me he was your batman on the continent. We owe you both a debt of gratitude for your service."

"Not meaning to change the subject, Caden, but I have a favor to ask," the dowager said. "You see, I rarely have occasion to pin down my grandson, Lord Fitzwater. I promised Rose's mother I would give Rose an opportunity to practice her dancing before the ball and I hoped I could count on you. Of course, I hired a dance instructor who will join us tomorrow."

"What does he have to do with me?" Caden asked, piling his plate with bacon, ham, and sausages.

"Yes. I am truly sorry. With the activities of these past couple of days, I quite forgot. I hired Mr. Grindle to help the girls improve their dancing, which means you will be on duty tomorrow as Rose's partner."

"Rose's partner? And I am just hearing of this?" Penrose sounded irritated.

"Yes, Rose's partner. We must undo the damage from last year and help boost Rose's confidence to avoid another unfortunate incident."

Caden's sigh turned into a smile. "Very well, Grandmama, I could never refuse you," he replied.

She smiled. "And I can never refuse you. Now. I must leave you to greet our guests and make certain Lady Rose and her Aunt Agnes are settled comfortably."

"Would you be referring to the viscountess?" Penrose asked.

The dowager arched a brow. "Yes. I have been looking forward to their arrival," she replied before dabbing her lips with her napkin. "You gentlemen take your time and get to know each other a little. I need to greet our guests."

When the door closed behind the dowager, Logan glanced at the viscount and didn't miss the pained expression on the younger man's face.

"I was unaware her aunt was joining her," he said.

"Young ladies do tend to travel with chaperones." Logan's lips quirked up in a smile. "Unless there is something particular or unusual about this Aunt Agnes acting as a chaperone?"

"Nothing other than her presence always makes things more…interesting. The last time I saw Aunt Agnes, she declared in front of everyone present how wonderful it would be if Rose and I married," the younger man said, clearing his throat. "Dash it! I'm barely one and twenty. I've only just come down from Cambridge. Why would I want to get married before I've had a chance to see the world?"

"Time and experience can be the greatest of teachers," Logan said, suppressing a smile at the young man's frustration.

"Exactly," Caden agreed. He seemed about to say something more when a movement to his right made him pause.

"Is something the matter?" Logan asked.

"Only that Chapelle has polished off the rashers of bacon. Again."

Logan chuckled as he turned to see the cat in question, sitting next to the sideboard, calmly cleaning her face.

"Perhaps I should ring for more," Caden said, glaring at the feline.

Perhaps I should stay , thought Chapelle, to no one in particular. There's no such thing as too much bacon.