All his worries fell away as pure exhilaration swept through him. The thunder of hooves pounded on the turf, echoing in his chest. He closed in on Charlotte. A glance over his shoulder showed the groom falling behind. Though he knew he could easily pass Charlotte, he held back, giving them both the thrill of the race.
At last, they neared the end of the meadow, and he drew near enough to hear Charlotte’s laughter. The sound wove through his chest, slightly loosening the knot that had been there since his return to England’s shores.
Charlotte reined in her mare, her cheeks flushed, still laughing as she slid off her horse.
“That was perfect,” she declared.
“Because you won?” he asked as he dismounted, unable to resist teasing her.
“No.” Her gaze held steadily on his. “Because it made you smile.”
His heart did the oddest flip, almost like a somersault, leaving him breathless. He gathered his horse’s reins while he tried to collect his thoughts as she moved closer. He had no idea how to respond to her statement.
“I’ve missed your smile,” she added gently, her gaze searching his face. “You’ve become rather serious compared to what I remember.”
“I haven’t found much to smile about of late.” That was an understatement. The London he’d returned to wasn’t the one to which he’d held tight in his memory, the one to which he’d longed to come home. He supposed he’d held an idealistic view of it. But nothing had remained the same during his absence, especially himself.
He detested the way other men commented with admiration about his roguish feats such as winning at cards or the hand of an actress yet showed little interest in what happened to him and others who’d fought in the war. How could they admire his recent tendency to indulge in less-than-wholesome pleasures and ignore the reason behind them? Was it because he’d escaped physical harm and no outward sign of his internal wounds were visible?
As he forced himself to meet Charlotte’s eyes, he realized he was pleased she had noticed. He was different, and it was ridiculous to pretend otherwise. He was also pleased with the changes in her, both inside and out. The attractive, confident woman standing before him was a testament that not all was upside down in his world.
“Then I am even more pleased to have found something that brought you joy, even briefly,” she added.
“Thank you.”
They stood between their horses which provided them with a small measure of privacy. The quiet morning added to the sensation. He found himself reaching out to brush a gloved finger along her cheek. He wished he could feel it as he was certain her skin would be as soft as it looked.
How easy it would be to fall under her spell and give in to the urge to kiss her.
But that would never do. He intended to protect her, not ravish her. The thought of Edward had him easing back. James needed to remember the reason for this early morning ride.
“Did our race soothe your thirst for adventure?” He asked the question quietly, reluctant to change the topic.
She chuckled even as she shook her head. “I refuse to allow you to escape your promise so easily.”
Oddly enough, her declaration pleased him.
~*~
“I must say that once again you have surprised me.” James stared at Montagu House where the British Museum was housed with a perplexed look.
“Did you think I wouldn't be interested in seeing the exhibits?” Charlotte couldn't help but feel offended. Did James think so poorly of her?
“Not at all.” James studied her as they climbed the steps of the beautiful, French-style house in Bloomsbury where the museum's collections were housed, her maid following behind.
Physician and naturalist Sir Hans Sloane had left the entire contents of his collection to the King upon his death for a small fee to his beneficiaries. The collection included over 71,000 objects with everything from books to manuscripts, to coins and medals, to natural specimens and antiquities of all shapes and sizes. Classical sculptures purchased from Charles Townley were also on display. Both the gardens and the museum were open to the public on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from ten o’clock to four o’clock.
“I'm just not certain why you require my escort to view it.”
That made her feel better. Charlotte wasn't certain how much to admit to James. Especially when she still intended to convince him to take her to a gaming hell.
The exhibits that truly interested her were ones of which her mother would not approve. Lady Wynn didn't see any purpose in bothering with education beyond what Charlotte would require to be a proper wife, capable of managing her social duties as well as a household. She’d been taught manners, drawing, music, reading, and writing, and basic arithmetic, but little beyond that.
While that might satisfy some young ladies, it hadn't satisfied Charlotte. She'd taken to borrowing books from her father's library without his permission to read in the evenings after she retired to her bedchamber. Thank goodness her mother hadn’t noted the number of candles Charlotte went through. Reading some of the rather dry books, at least the portions that interested her, had opened a whole new world to her but left her wanting more. Viewing some of the exhibits housed here would add nicely to that.
Lady Wynn had no desire to visit the museum, therefore she didn't think her daughter should either. Her father certainly wouldn't approve, and Edward couldn't be bothered to escort his sister. While a few of her friends such as Margaret might enjoy accompanying her, the idea of James doing so had provided a certain thrill.
He would have an entirely different perspective on the exhibits than anyone else she knew. The outing would be good for him as well. That alone made it worthwhile. The war had obviously affected him deeply.
Did he and Edward ever speak of it? Talking about her own problems certainly helped her. However, she realized that true problems, the ones that couldn't be solved overnight, were difficult to speak of. Rarely was there an easy solution for them.
She couldn't expect James to confide in her when they didn't know each other well. But she hoped that would change after this day. Would he see any benefit to speaking with her? Probably not. Certainly not about such weighty topics as the war. But she intended to try if the right moment came along.
While tempted to give a flippant response to his question she decided against it, wanting him to understand how important this was to her.
“My mother sees little purpose in me learning anything about art, archaeology, or history. She thinks I only need to focus on what I need to know to be a good wife and mother.”
James glanced at her as they arrived at the entrance. “I, for one, applaud your curiosity.”
“Why, thank you.” She smiled. “I very much look forward to several of the exhibits.”
The collections were split into sections, including printed books and manuscripts, Natural History and modern artificial curiosities, and natural and artificial productions.
James held the door for her then glanced around inside with interest. “Where shall we go first?”
“Upstairs,” Charlotte answered confidently. Her maid settled into a chair to wait by the door.
The lower floor held a library of books and while it would be interesting to peruse them, now was not the time. The upper floor held modern works of art, fossils, stuffed birds, and other items.
However, it was the Gallery specifically that most appealed to her as it housed the Greek and Roman sculptures along with Egyptian antiquities and other artifacts.
An under librarian came forward to greet them. “How may we be of assistance today?” he asked with a bow.
James looked at Charlotte, one brow raised.
“The Gallery, please,” she responded. Charlotte would have preferred it if they could wander about on their own, but visitors were escorted by under librarians.
The young man appeared to be of a studious nature with wavy brown hair, glasses, and a small frame. Hi
s stature was much different than James whose broad shoulders and confidence suggested he was prepared for anything. Their guide appeared to only be ready to look at books. She had to smile at the comparison.
“What is it?” James asked as their guide, Mr. Jones, led the way across the entrance hall toward the grand staircase.
She shook her head, well aware of the heat filling her cheeks. She had no intention of advising James how handsome she thought he was.
Mr. Jones led them up a flight of stairs with an ornate iron railing and to the right, through several corridors which held beautiful paintings. The house was a pleasure to walk through with decorative embellishments along the walls and above the doorways.
At last, the guide paused in the Gallery where Charlotte drew an appreciative breath at the number of exhibits. She was especially interested in the Parthenon sculptures, a collection of marble architectural decorations from the temple of Athena on the Acropolis in Athens. She had read about them but to see them for herself was another experience altogether.
Even James's presence fell away as she studied the sculpted relief panels depicting the battle between Centaurs and Lapiths at a marriage feast. The display was positively stunning.
She knew from her reading that the Parthenon had been a temple, a church, and a mosque over the centuries. A terrible explosion in 1687 from munitions stored inside left it in ruins.
She glanced over her shoulder at their guide, waiting for him to share some of the details of the amazing sculptures. The condescending look he gave her suggested he didn't think she could be interested or appreciate his knowledge.
His gaze shifted to James, and he quickly cleared his throat and started sharing some of the specifics of each item.
Charlotte drank in the information eagerly, hoping she could remember even half of what he told them. The sculptures were much larger than she'd expected.
They passed a closed door, something that caught her curiosity, considering most of the other doors stood open.
“What's in there?” she asked.
Mr. Jones’s face turned red much to her surprise. “That room contains statues that aren't yet ready for viewing.”
The explanation only made her more curious. Could they be statues of Athena and the virgins? Whatever it was, she dearly wanted to see. A glance at James suggested he was curious as well.
Another guide with several visitors entered the Gallery but much to her relief, they continued past to another area.
Charlotte and James were studying a carved horse’s head when the other guide hurried back into the room.
“I beg your pardon, but I am in need of your assistance, Mr. Jones. One of the visitors, a gentleman, has collapsed.”
“Oh dear.” Mr. Jones looked back and forth between them and his associate, seeming torn as to what action to take.
“Please see to the other visitor,” James encouraged him. “We will wait here for your return.”
“Are you certain?”
“Please hurry,” the other guide urged.
With a tip of his head, Mr. Jones hurried away with his associate.
“I do hope it’s nothing serious,” Charlotte said.
“I’ll make certain they don't need additional assistance.” James strode to the end of the Gallery and paused to look into the other room, apparently watching the group.
Charlotte continued to view the exhibits before her gaze was once again captured by the closed door.
Was it locked? It certainly couldn't hurt to check. With a glance over her shoulder to where James was visible at the end of the room, she stepped to the door and tried the knob, pleased to find it turned easily under her hand.
A peek inside showed a large collection of a variety of statues stored in a haphazard manner. Some were draped with cloths, but others were bare. From what she could see, they were gorgeous.
“What are you doing?” James’ deep voice startled her.
She pressed a hand over her pounding heart before turning to frown at him. “You gave me a fright. Surely you were also curious as to what this room held.”
“The reaction of our guide did make me wonder. No doubt he'll be back any minute.”
“Then we should hurry.” Charlotte stepped through the door and gestured for James to follow.
He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. “You can't be serious.”
“Why not? Hurry.” She motioned for him to join her, and he reluctantly stepped inside. She closed the door behind them, deciding this was a perfect adventure. “Just look at these.”
“Impressive.” He walked slowly forward as if as drawn to the statues as she was.
“Why wouldn’t they display them?” she asked in a hushed tone, the silence of the chamber demanding it.
“At a guess, I would suggest not all of them are genuine. Perhaps they’re attempting to sort the real items from the fraudulent ones.”
Charlotte followed his gaze to a statue that displayed a voluptuous woman in the arms of a man, both nude, surprised by the pose. “Wasn’t Athena the goddess of warriors?”
“Yes, which makes a few of these all the more suspicious, don’t you think?”
Yet the passionate embrace drew her forward. Whoever the artist had been, he had talent. The utter longing on both faces was also visible in the way they held each other—as if nothing else mattered except their love. The man’s hand on the woman’s breast and bottom had Charlotte swallowing hard. What might it be like to be so loved and adored and...desired in that way? Her entire body tingled at the thought as her mouth went dry.
The realization that she might never know had her quickly turning away. Lord Samuelson and she would never view each other in that light.
“What is it?” James asked, a gentle hand on her arm.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she glanced toward the lovers again. “Can you imagine loving another so much?”
His silence grew so long she wasn’t certain he was going to answer. “No, I can’t. That would be a privilege.”
The warmth of his body seeped into hers, soothing her. She appreciated that he hadn’t dismissed her question or made light of it. She looked into his eyes, wondering if he truly understood, and was lost.
He lifted his hand to draw a finger along the line of her jaw. His touch caused a ripple of sensation to wash through her. Suddenly, she could indeed imagine such a thing.
With James.
His gaze dropped to her lips and her breath caught. She wanted him to kiss her more than she wanted air at that moment. Those incredible brown eyes with their shadows still evident captured hers once more. Was that a question in their depths?
Before she could decide, he leaned close. Then closer still until their breath was one. Longing threatened to pull her under. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything as much as she wanted his kiss.
His lips pressed against hers as if an answer to her wish.
But the kiss was over before it truly began, much to her disappointment.
He studied her, his expression unfathomable. “I hope you find it someday, Charlotte. You deserve love in its truest form.”
Then he turned away as if to say it wouldn’t be with him. Her heart ached, whether from the poignancy of the moment or his rejection, she couldn’t say. She only knew it hurt.
Chapter Five
James clenched his jaw, uncertain what had come over him. Why he’d given in to the urge to kiss Charlotte was beyond him. Yet how could he resist when she looked at him with such yearning in her eyes?
The statue was to blame. No wonder it hadn’t been displayed in public with its suggestive nude pose. It obviously brought people to rash action.
He moved toward the door, careful to keep his gaze away from Charlotte. If she so much as lifted a finger in his direction, he would draw her into his arms, hold her tight, and kiss her once again.
James held the door for her, relieved when s
he returned to the Gallery without saying a word, her expression carefully blank. The stark longing on her face as she stared at the statues was something he wouldn't soon forget. She’d looked at the intertwined couple as if she couldn't breathe, as if she had no hope of ever experiencing something like that.
Of course, that was ridiculous. She was a beautiful woman, one who was kind, intelligent, and a delight in every sense of the word. She would marry well. Of that, he had no doubt.
However, he was not that man. Not for her. Not for anyone. He didn't plan to marry. He hadn't yet told his mother and father the news but in the coming years, they would understand his choice. He wasn't capable of being a husband, let alone a father.
His cousin could inherit and take on the responsibilities of the title, but he wouldn't be able to—wasn’t fit to do so. His family and those around him would all see that soon. A knot of dread tightened in the pit of his stomach at the realization. He’d hidden his crumbling soul thus far, but that couldn’t last much longer.
When Charlotte moved toward another exhibit without so much as a glance at him, he nodded. He deserved that. He had acted rashly and yielded to an urge he hadn't realized he had. It was a good thing this was their final outing together. He obviously couldn't be trusted to be a proper escort. If Edward discovered any of this, he would call James out, something James couldn’t risk. He had few true friends and considered Edward one of them.
“Should we continue our tour, or would you prefer to return home?” He was certain she would choose the latter. He had not only overstepped his bounds but turned away from her. What young lady would want to spend time with someone who insulted her so?
She looked at him at last, her face composed with the exception of flushed cheeks. “Let us continue the tour.” She looked both ways, her chest moving quickly as if she were out of breath. “I'm certain our guide will return when he is able. Shall we proceed on our own for now?”
To Dare a Rogue Page 5
