The earl ignored her near-hysteria, rested his hands on the edge of the tub and leaned down, kissing her on the mouth. "Forgive my bold intrusion. I missed you at breakfast this morning and became worried as the hour grew late and you did not appear."
Charlotte was feeling too mortified to be charmed, even though his kiss had put all her senses on alert. "You could have sent me a note," she chided.
He extracted a soft white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and blotted her damp cheeks. "A note is so impersonal."
Kneeling beside the tub, he moved to dip the linen square in the water. She swatted his hand away reflexively. "Stop it. You are not going to bathe me. Now leave immediately!"
His heated gaze studied her face, his expression intent. "It could be a very pleasant experience for both of us. I confess, I have always had a secret desire to be a lady's maid."
Charlotte scowled. "If you leave immediately, I promise to keep your ridiculous secret desire to myself," she said through clenched teeth.
Edward laughed. "Calm down, Charlotte. No one knows I am here."
"My maid will be returning shortly."
"Your maid is being kept busy below stairs by my valet. "
He had leaned forward as he spoke and now his handsome face was very near. She blinked as she saw how close he was, his mouth nearly touching hers, making her remember vividly the wonderful excitement of feeling his lips pressed against hers.
Her fingers itched to trace the bold edge of his nose, the strong line of his jaw, the sensual curve of his lips. Charlotte clenched her hands into fists and struggled for the strength to pull herself away and again order him from the chamber.
"Edward? "
Her voice was a plea, a question that she did not even know she was asking. Was she begging for a kiss? Or begging for him to show her mercy and be strong for the both of them?
She felt his hand close over the nape of her exposed neck, massaging the stiff tendons with a firm, yet gentle touch. The motion relaxed her. Charlotte felt her breathing turn deep and even as the tension began to leave her body. She closed her eyes as the gentle kneading continued, his warm fingers stroking her neck and shoulders and upper back.
His hands were gentle, never dipping below the level of her exposed flesh. Yet whenever he would brush his thumbs up her neck to the sensitive spot behind her ears, she would shiver with pure delight.
"Shall I wash your hair?" he whispered.
Charlotte bit back a moan of delight. She wanted to sit there for hours with his hands on her bodyher head, her neck, her shoulders, everywhere. But it was too dangerous to allow this to continue. Somehow she had to show him this was madness.
"I already washed my hair," she lied.
"Pity. Then are you finished in the tub? Since you did not allow me to bathe you, may I have the honor of drying you off?"
Charlotte's eyes popped opened. He reached for the towel that Jones had left warming by the fire and held it out to her.
"You have lost your mind," she declared, stunned by his sudden disregard for anything that was proper.
"Have I?" His lips twitched.
"Yes." Charlotte narrowed her eyes, trying to ignore his boyish appeal, telling herself they would both be ruined if she allowed this to continue any longer.
"Hmmm, the set of your jaw tells me that you are not jesting," he remarked. "If I promise not to tease you any longer, can we have a serious conversation?"
Here? Now? He truly had lost his mind. Charlotte gave a scornful huff. "Edward, please, if you have any regard for me at all, you will leave at once. My nerves are overset at the very thought of what would happen if you are discovered in here."
Indignation rang in her voice and it struck Charlotte that she was being somewhat hypocritical, since she had never cared to any great extent what society thought, and even more telling, a part of her very much wanted him to stay. But she was also being realistic, a role that the earl usually undertook, but for some unknown reason had abandoned utterly.
He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it and shut it without speaking his mind. He took her hands and she looked down at his feet. He was wearing clean boots that were nicely polished, indicating he had not yet taken his morning ride. Proof that he had indeed been waiting for her to make an appearance.
For an instant she felt a pang of regret for shutting down her emotions toward him, for so adamantly trying to eject him from her chamber, but then she reined in her wayward thoughts. This was hardly the time or the place to have a flirtation or a serious conversation.
She waited for his curt bow, his formal departure, but he surprised her once again by bending his head until she felt his breath at her temple. One of his hands came to the exposed top of her shoulder, his fingertips resting lightly on the creamy flesh.
"You are right, of course. I can hardly string three coherent words together when you are in that tub and so delectably close. We will talk later."
He kissed her swiftly on the lips. Charlotte held her breath as she waited for him to leave her chamber, listening for the sound of the door clicking shut. But the rush of relief she felt when she knew he had gone was quickly followed by a sudden, puzzling urge to cry.
Surprisingly, Charlotte sat beside his mother at the midafternoon meal. For a brief instant Edward thought it might have been an intentional decision, a way of avoiding him, since he would never willingly join her and put himself within his mother's range of barbs, but after due consideration he dismissed the notion.
Charlotte was not a cowardly female. If she were trying to distance herself from him, she would hardly need to hide behind his mother's skirts. Still, it was lowering to think she might be trying to steer clear of him, especially after all they had shared last night.
He carried within him a certain measure of guilt over those events, a sense of responsibility that bade him to make amends for his actions and offer to marry her. The notion pleased him on many levels and yet he was honest enough to admit to himself that he could not fully define his feelings toward Charlotte.
He was drawn to her, found himself thinking about her at odd moments during the day and dreaming of her at night.
He could talk to her about his work, a subject he would never consider mentioning in the presence of a lady, yet with Charlotte the words flowed freely and honestly.
He enjoyed sparring with her, became annoyed if she was too willful, yet he admired her spirit and courage, her determination to be herself. She was beautiful and accomplished, though not in the traditionally womanly arts.
She had a quick wit and a sharp tongue and he was probably more than a bit in love with her. He definitely lusted after her, but there was more to his feelings than desire.
Exactly how much more he could not say and Edward strongly suspected that Charlotte would demand that he did say.
He thought she looked particularly beautiful this afternoon. The simplicity of the design of her day gown emphasized her feminine curves and vibrant beauty, while the deep rose hue of the fabric complemented her coloring. Her complexion glowed with health, her hair was sleek and shiny and gorgeous in the afternoon sunlight.
Edward inhaled slowly. The recollection of how her hair had looked spread across her bare shoulders and down her naked back was making his palms sweat and his pulse race. He wished now he had stayed in her bedchamber earlier, had lifted her wet, slick body from the confines of her bathtub, had run his hands over her delicate flesh, had made love to her in the bright sunlight of the day.
He watched her nibble delicately at her meal, inclining her head and smiling, first at his mother, who was seated on her right, and then at Lord Reginald, who was seated on her left. She was flushed and bright-eyed but seemingly in control of her emotions.
He marveled at her composure. Her back was straight, her hair twisted elegantly high to expose the lovely slenderness of her neck, her movements fluid and graceful. It was hard to believe that a few hours ago he had been staring at her g
orgeous body in the bathtub, and but a few hours before that they had been making wild, passionate love in her bed.
The memory made him restless, edgy and filled him with an urgency he did not fully understand. He willed her to look in his direction, yet she continued amusing her table companions, never once shifting her attention away from them.
Edward had nearly given up hope when suddenly she turned her head, looking directly into his eyes. The knowing, assessing stare she gave him stripped away all his defenses in a chilling rush. The exclusive connection, the sheer intimacy of the moment shocked him. Edward felt as if the wind had been knocked from his chest.
Charlotte gave no outward indication of a similar reaction and his heart sank. But then he saw the slight trembling of her hand as she reached for her goblet of wine and he knew she too had been affected. A comforting admission.
Edward kept his eyes and his attention on his food and his table companions for the remainder of the meal. The guests lingered over dessert, discussing the Christmas-tree trimming that would take place tomorrow, expressing their interest in seeing the special glass ornaments he had imported from Germany. Even after the dishes had been cleared from the table, the guests milled about, mingling and laughing and wandering off in groups.
The earl thought it the perfect time to steal Charlotte away and have their long overdue private talk, but she surprised him again by announcing she would be joining the older ladies on their afternoon calls to the local gentry. In a flurry of cackling high-pitched conversation, the women departed.
He did not see her again until the evening meal, where she somehow managed to seat herself between Lord and Lady Haddon, while he was again at the opposite side of the table. Bidding his time while the men lingered over port and cigars, Edward plotted his next move.
However, Charlotte somehow outflanked him, joining a lively card game that had no room for additional players. Broodingly, he watched her as she played, trying to devise a way to insinuate himself into the game. She sat beside his brother, her eyes twinkling with amusement and delight, the pile of coins in front of her growing steadily.
After hearing a particularly gleeful laugh, Edward had enough. Deciding he would somehow get his brother to give up his place at the card table so he could take it, the earl moved forward. But he had taken only two steps before he felt a tug on his arm.
"Finally I have you all to myself. Come, sit and talk with an old lady for a few minutes, young man. I need your opinion on a new venture my man of business is recommending."
The earl's initial annoyance at the interruption softened when he saw it was Lady Johnson-Meyer holding his arm. Of all of his mother's friends, he liked the matronly aristocrat the best. She was witty and full of mischief, the only one who had ever acknowledged the true depth of his business empire and did not pretend he merely dabbled in finance for his amusement.
Though she was nearly seventy years of age, Lady Johnson-Meyer had a keen mind and a good business sense and over the years whenever she was in London, she had solicited his advice regarding her own investments. She had placed a sizable portion of her assets in several of Edward's companies and doing so had proven to be a profitable relationship for both of them.
Normally, he enjoyed their conversations, but tonight her presence was keeping him away from Charlotte. Still, he could not be rude.
They found a quiet corner and each accepted a cup of tea from the footman, though Edward left his untouched. He managed to keep up his end of the conversation for several minutes, but the sound of Charlotte's distinct laughter pulled his attention and eyes away.
He saw Jonathan and Charlotte with their heads bent close together, their hands nearly touching as they fingered the pile of coins that was placed between them. Edward felt a jolt of annoyance as something unknown twisted in the pit of his stomach.
"She is high-spirited and more than a bit spoiled, but I always thought she'd make the right man an excellent wife," Lady Johnson-Meyer murmured near his ear.
Edward cleared his throat and turned to the older woman. "Are you speaking of Miss Aldridge?"
"The very same." Her eyes were bright and lively. "She and your brother make a most handsome couple. They are such a striking, attractive pair and seem to get on very well together. Don't you agree?"
"They have known each other for years," he said dismissively.
Lady Johnson-Meyer sipped delicately from her teacup. "I have suggested to your mother on several occasions that it would be an advantageous match for your brother. She has a substantial dowry. And I believe Miss Aldridge should be pleased to have such an attentive, amusing young husband."
Edward thought he surely must have misheard. Jonathan and Charlotte? He peered at the two more closely, taking note of the intimacy of their arrangement, how close together their chairs were positioned, how they whispered and signalled to each other during the game.
Then he noticed Charlotte slip something flat and white into Jonathan's hand beneath the table. The earl's eyes widened in puzzlement. A card? Were they cheating?
He stood. "Please excuse me, my lady."
The older woman blinked innocently. "Of course. 'Tis necessary to protect one own's interests, is it not?"
Startled, Edward nearly tripped over his feet. "I am sure you are mistaken. Miss Aldridge and I share no more than a brief acquaintance."
"Oh, I am sorry." Lady Johnson-Meyer's eyes seemed to twinkle. "Though I must say that even without my spectacles I can see very clearly."
The earl ignored the older woman's words and headed directly for the card table. The game was just ending, the players leaving the table. Edward tried to corner Charlotte for a private moment. She gave him a dazzling smile of welcome that rendered him nearly speechless, then looped her arms through her grandfather's and held on as though she would topple over without Lord Reginald's support.
Declaring a slight headache, Charlotte next bid everyone good night. His offer of an escort upstairs was firmly denied. On the surface he accepted her decision with good humor, but deep inside he felt an impotent sense of something precious slipping from his grasp, an almost unreasonable fear of losing something he had not known he wanted.
Charlotte was very glad to have her grandfather's escort to her bedchamber. It had been such an unsettling day. She had not set out deliberately to avoid the earl, but soon discovered it had been easier to cope when he was not near her. She knew he was puzzled, perhaps even hurt by her actions, and she regretted it. Yet she also knew it would be pointless to have a conversation with him when she did not know her own mind-or as of yet, trust the feelings in her heart.
She gained the safety of her bedchamber without further incident and silently congratulated herself on her clever manipulations. Jones was nowhere in evidence, so Charlotte moved forward to ring for her servant.
Her heart jumped when a shadow appeared in front of her and her hand went reflexively to her mouth. "Who's there?"
"Don't scream. 'Tis only me," the earl said.
He struck a match. An an oil lamp flared to life and his handsome features became clearly visibly.
"Grandpapa and I left you in the drawing room, surrounded by several other guests. How did you manage to extract yourself from their company and arrive in my bedchamber before me?"
Edward smiled faintly. "I grew up in this house. I also have longer, faster legs."
"And thus the advantage."
"Over you?" He smiled broadly, implying the notion was laughable. "Since there seemed to be no opportunity during the day, we shall have our conversation now. We need to be making plans, decisions about our future."
"What sort of plans?"
"The obvious ones."
"Marriage?" Charlotte smiled weakly. "Is it truly necessary?"
His nostrils flared, with either surprise or annoyance. "In this situation it is the appropriate solution. There is certainly no pretending it did not happen. Nor pretending it will not happen again."
Charlotte felt he
r face flush with color. "Are you implying that I am a woman of loose character?"
Edward's visage darkened. I am telling you that I find you nearly irresistible," he said tartly. "Until last night, I never suspected that I was capable of overcoming a lifetime of strict moral training and behavior to become a seducer of innocents."
His declaration hardly pleased her, especially since he sounded so annoyed. "You did not seduce me. Well, not entirely. I lay with you willingly." Charlotte removed her heavy diamond earrings and placed them on her dressing table. "We cannot marry simply to soothe your guilty conscience. It is ludicrous."
His eyes glinted as he ran his gaze over her from head to toe. "You were innocent and inexperienced. I was not. Therefore, I feel responsible and as such am compelled to do the correct and honorable thing."
"Saints above, Edward, I am not a weak-minded imbecile. I was not unknowingly seduced. Honestly, you give yourself and your charms far too much credit."
He became very quiet and very still. Charlotte had the absurd thought that he was counting to ten. Slowly. "I do not know how I will survive being around you if you continue being so brutally honest, Charlotte. Your opinions most certainly wreak havoc on a man's confidence."
A flush of guilt brightened her cheeks. She had never meant to hurt or insult him. "I will concede that there are sparks between us."
"Sparks? There is fire."
"Sparks fade," she replied flatly, refusing to remember how tender he had been toward her, how he made her feel special, wonderful, incredible. He had cared. But was it enough? She remembered her feelings of jealousy over his attention to Miss Dunaway last evening.
As a young girl she had always had difficulty sharing her toys. As an adult, Charlotte now discovered the sentiment applied even more strongly to her men.
Her men? Was that what Edward was in her life? Her man? Her current man? But if he were her current man, that implied there would eventually be other men in her life. The idea seemed impossible. How could she ever share the same sort of intimacy with anyone else?
The Christmas Heiress Page 18
