A Lady to Desire

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Francis didn’t think she did, but he didn’t correct her. “So, my lady, can I count on your assistance? For I have the feeling such an arrangement would be to our mutual benefit.”

  For another long moment, Lady Priscilla said nothing. “You can,” she finally replied, holding out her hand for him to shake as any man might. “And please, call me Cilla. All of my friends do.”

  Francis inclined his head as he tried to hold back a smile at her boldness. “Very well, Cilla. You may call me Francis.” His quirked his lips, unable to stop the bit of mischief he felt bubbling up inside. “Or William, for I am told I once went by that name as well. Who in the bloody hell can tell who I am these days?”

  She laughed then and placed a hand on his arm, something light and a bit frothy zinging between them. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something that felt like the pure delight that came from flirting.

  “You are not what I expected, Francis,” Priscilla admitted with a dry chuckle.

  “Good or bad?” he asked blandly, enjoying himself far more than he had in recent memory.

  “Good,” she assured him with her own wicked grin. “Most decidedly good. I must admit that I am beginning to see the depth of Lady Charlotte’s folly.” Then she patted his arm again and this time, allowed her hand to rest there.

  Francis should have objected. He didn’t.

  “For tonight, I think we should leave the two of them to their own devices,” Priscilla finally offered. Francis wasn’t certain he agreed with that plan, but he didn’t think it was his place to object just yet. “There is something connecting them, though I do not know what. Best to let them get it out of their system this evening.”

  “If they don’t?” Because really, they looked awfully friendly to Francis. Far too close for his liking.

  “Then we do what is necessary to reclaim what is ours,” she replied easily, her hand still on his arm.

  Francis made a grumbling sound. “I don’t like to wait.”

  “Neither do I,” she whispered conspiratorially as she leaned over to whisper almost seductively in his ear, “but sometimes, it is necessary.”

  “What shall we do next, then?” He found that he liked standing around in this darkened corner like an outcast less and less. Especially when the enchanting Lady Priscilla was proving such delightful company. For just this one, Francis wanted to forget everything and enjoy himself. The way he used to do.

  He wanted to feel like the man he had been when he first returned to London, more rogue than gentleman. His friends had told him he had changed. Perhaps he had. So perhaps it was time to change back. Or at the very least, time to loosen the restrictions he had placed upon himself over the last year.

  That was the man Charlotte had been attracted to in the beginning – a man he no longer was but maybe should be again. Maybe it was time to forget about marriage and Violet and everything else. Just for a few days. Maybe it was time to simply enjoy. And work on winning Charlotte back, of course.

  With a wicked twinkle in her eyes, Priscilla nudged him toward the dance floor. “I believe the orchestra will be playing another waltz after this set.” She quirked her lips. “Would you care to dance, my lord?”

  That was probably the brashest, boldest thing any woman had said to him as of late, especially a lady of quality. So Francis did the only thing he could think of. He threw his head back and laughed, causing almost every pair of eyes at the house party to turn in his direction.

  “My lady,” he replied when he finally stopped laughing, “I would be delighted.”

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Seven

  “How dare he show up here and flaunt his relationship with Lady Priscilla in my face! When did he even meet that awful woman? And to replace me in his affections so soon?” Charlotte raged to no one in particular, for she was very much alone in Havenhurst’s morning room at that moment and she was being particularly childish – though she felt she had the right just then. “Especially when I thought I was the one he wanted! I was supposed to be the woman he desired! And yet he is cavorting about with her?”

  “You are the woman I desire, Charlotte. You always have been. However, I am no longer so certain that you desire me.”

  Charlotte’s head whipped around so quickly she was afraid she had given herself a brainbox injury. There, leaning against the door and looking like temptation personified – something he had not been in a very, very long time – was Francis.

  He looked different tonight. More confident and certain of himself and his place in the world, Charlotte supposed. He reminded her of the man she had met a year ago before he had learned the truth of his identity. Before he had…changed. Or perhaps he looked different simply because she was viewing him through different eyes. For tonight she had endured a brief glimpse of what her life would be like if Francis belonged to another. She hadn’t liked it very much. However, she could also not ignore the heat that flared between her and Lord Snowly, either.

  Why, oh why, did life have to be so difficult?

  Swallowing hard, Charlotte titled her chin up a fraction, just as she had done a few nights ago in the Ardenton garden. Just because she knew she had been acting like a brat did not mean she had to admit as much. Not even to him. Especially not to him. “Francis. I did not hear you enter.”

  “Given the way you were raging at me, I surmised as much.” He was smiling, she noted, though it was something of a wry smile more so than a cheery one.

  “You, er, weren’t meant to hear that. No one was.” Once more, she was having a mortifying conversation that previously she had not imagined possible.

  “Indeed.” He leaned back against the door, and she heard the lock click into place, once more surprising her. Francis was a good man. An honorable man. He did not lock himself into rooms when he was with an unwed woman, not even her. Or he hadn’t. Until now. “Yet you said those things, pet, so you must feel they are true.”

  “Perhaps?” Charlotte winced. This entire situation was going so utterly wrong. Francis wasn’t supposed to be at this house party, and she should never have come, no matter what her father demanded. Or at least not planned to stay. She was supposed to have delivered her warning to Lord Snowly – though in truth, that hadn’t gone exactly to plan either – and then take the remaining few days to flirt and dance and sort out her feelings toward Francis. Or leave and seek out Uncle Cris and the refuge he had offered her.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Francis wasn’t supposed to be here in Lord Fullbridge’s morning room listening to her rant like a shrew, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be laughing and dancing with Lady Priscilla, making a spectacle of himself. Or making a fool of her, as if she had never mattered to him in the least.

  Though Charlotte supposed that, deep inside, she had only questioned her own feelings. Never Francis’. He was strong and loyal and faithful. Always. And always only to her. Though looking back, she supposed that made him sound more like a devoted dog than a potential husband. That had never been her intent.

  She had, of course, told herself that he was likely having doubts as well. But she hadn’t really meant it, hadn’t really believed that Francis was anything but completely devoted to her and her alone. That he could never look at another woman the same way he looked at her. What if she had been wrong?

  “Charlotte.” The way Francis said her name just then made her insides quiver a bit. That hadn’t happened in a very long time. “I believe we are at something of a crossroads.”

  “How do you mean?” Oh, she did not like the sound of this, and she felt her stomach clench as her blood began to turn to ice.

  “As you said to me the other evening, do not be dense, pet. I saw you dancing with Lord Snowly earlier. You like him. You are attracted to him.” There was no accusation in Francis’ voice, merely fact.

  “Just as I saw you with Lady Priscilla. You seemed to enjoy her company quite a bit.” And Charlotte did not like in the least that was so.

>   Francis inclined his head. “I shan’t lie to you. I do enjoy her company. Cilla is a lovely, intelligent woman.” Cilla? Charlotte felt her blood begin to thaw and then start to boil almost immediately. “But she is not you, pet. Nor will she ever be.”

  “And Noah is not you,” Charlotte countered feeling completely flustered and uncertain. Because Noah wasn’t Francis. But that did not mean she did not still feel a flare of attraction.

  Francis raised an eyebrow. “Noah, is it?”

  “It is.” She twisted her lips in frustration. He was confusing her, making her head hurt. This had to stop. This wasn’t at all like him, at least not the way he was now! “Please, Francis, the other evening I was merely overset. I did not mean…”

  “Except I think that you did.” Francis cut her off mid-sentence. “Or at least a part of you did.” Slowly, he moved away from the door and he reminded her of a large jungle cat stalking his prey the way he moved toward her. “We are not the same people we were a year ago, Charlotte. Much has changed. For both of us. Between us, as well.”

  She took a step backward and ran directly into the back of a chair. “That is true,” she admitted cautiously. “But not everything has changed. You just said you still desired me.”

  “Desire is not reason enough to wed.” He shrugged far too offhandedly for her liking. “Though it is certainly a very good reason.” Another step, this time bringing him so close to her that she squeaked. “Though not if only one person desires the other. It must go both ways. Then perhaps that is enough reason to wed.”

  “I do!” she protested weakly, her voice deserting her. “I do still desire you!”

  Francis was so close now that Charlotte could feel the familiar prickle of heat along the length of her body. The heat she only felt with him. “Do you?” he asked silkily. “Your actions tonight say otherwise.”

  “As…as do yours.” When had her voice become so breathy? When had she started to sound so much like a featherbrain? Why was he doing this to her? Why was he torturing her? Didn’t he care for her enough not to do this, not to make her more confused than she already was?

  “So they do,” he acknowledged far too easily for her liking. “Thus, as I said before, we are at a crossroads, neither of us certain which way we should go.”

  “Wh…wha…what do you wish to do about that?” Charlotte despised herself for stuttering. Where was the strong, confident seductress that had captivated Lord Snowly earlier that evening? Nowhere to be found at the moment that was for certain.

  Francis unexpectedly took a step back and suddenly Charlotte found that she could breathe again. She also found, however, that she missed his warmth. “I wish to offer you a proposition,” he said, his beautiful eyes dark and unreadable for once.

  Finally managing to release her grip on the chair, she exhaled deeply. Once more, she did not like the sound of this. “What sort of proposition?”

  For a long moment, Francis did nothing more than stare at her. Finally, he spoke. “In recent weeks, Charlotte, I have found myself withholding things from you that I would normally confess without hesitation. I think that the same is true of you, for there is a distance between us that was not there before. I also believe as I said, that neither of us is the same persons we were a year previous. I know that I am not and I find, as of late, that I do not like the changes.”

  “I would agree with that,” she replied, doing her best to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Well, most of it anyway.”

  Francis inclined his head. “So before we begin spilling our darkest secrets to each other, I propose that we decide whether or not we truly are suited for one another. People change and, as you have noted several times over the last few weeks, there is nothing official between us. Our relationship began at a time when I did not know whom I truly was and you, I think, were only beginning to find your own strength. Our arrangement, such as it is, may no longer suit.”

  Charlotte found herself clenching the chair back again. “And what do you propose we do? To decide if we are suited, I mean?” For she had her own ideas about the matter but none of them seemed particularly good, at least not at the moment.

  “I suggest that we give ourselves pause, shall we say. We take time to become acquainted with other people, people we are likely attracted to or believe ourselves to be.” He titled his head again and this time, his smile was a sad one. “I think we both have already started down that path this evening, don’t you?”

  Charlotte nodded though inside she felt as if she was dying. She had meant to flirt with the men at the party, not actually think about marrying one of them. Or had she? Was she simply lying to herself again? She no longer knew. “And what about us?”

  Francis’ face sobered then. “We do what we have always done, Charlotte. We talk. We flirt. We dance. Just as we are doing with the others.” He paused. “Except that this time, we take a moment to decide if we are together out of habit or because we truly wish to be. Is the desire for each other still there or has it cooled? We would not be the first couple to have a change of heart, but unlike the others, as we are not truly bound to each other, we are in a position to walk away from this arrangement with only a hint of scandal.”

  Charlotte felt as if he had slapped her, her body going cold. “Don’t…don’t you want me any longer? Is that what this is about?”

  Francis clenched his fists tightly for a moment before releasing them, obviously struggling to force himself to relax. “Charlotte, I want you with every fiber of my being. I have from the first moment I saw you. That has not changed and I doubt it ever will. But something is different between us now and I am not certain we can go back to the way we were before. Especially when I do not know for certain what has changed between us or why.”

  “Oh.” She had not expected this, even though this was the very thing she had been thinking earlier. Wishing for, really. Except that the proposition did not sound quite so enlightened and reasonable when Francis said it. Rather, it sounded all a bit wretched. And unpleasant. As if someone had yanked the rug out from under the chair she had been sitting on, not upsetting her stability completely but enough that it made her unsteady.

  Francis smiled. “Come now, Charlotte. I saw the way you were making mooneyes at Lord Snowly this evening. Do not try to tell me that was not what it looked like. That you were not flirting with the man. I know better.”

  In fact, that was exactly what she was going to say but her mouth snapped shut before she could. To say any differently would insult both of them. She respected Francis too much to lie to him about something so important.

  She also knew she should confess about her father and his ultimatum. However, had he not just said that he did not wish to hear her secrets just then? Meaning he didn’t want to hear about her father? Or did it? Why could things not be like they used to be?

  Then again, wasn’t a large part of this her fault after her behavior at the Ardenton ball the other evening? Yes. Yes, it was.

  Not to mention also the fault of her father, but she would not think of that just now.

  Standing there, his arms crossed over his powerful, muscled chest, Francis looked like Charlotte’s every fantasy come to life. She wanted this version of him, not the bland one that had taken his place recently. If she went back to him now, her father’s plans aside, how could she be assured that this powerful, predatory version of him – the one that thrilled her to the very tips of her slippers – would remain? She couldn’t be, but she was willing to try.

  Except that given the expression on Francis’ face, she was no longer certain that he was. He had watched her dance with Snowly. He had heard every word that she had said. And she had hurt him. That was something that could not be undone right away, if it ever could. She would have to do as he asked and, were she being honest with herself, she did not think this was necessarily a bad idea. Especially not with her father’s threats and his plan with Lord Springford still hanging over her.

  “How long?” she
finally asked. “How long before we have to decide?”

  This time when Francis looked at her, Charlotte could swear she saw the longing in his eyes. “The duration of the house party. Four days. During that time, we get to know each other again – the people we are now and not the people we used to be. Everyone changes, Charlotte, but I think that we both have changed more than others. We will take this time to decide if we still suit or if our hearts might lie elsewhere. When we return to London? Our decision should be made.”

  Tell him, a voice inside of her cried. Tell him about your father and the ultimatum! Make him understand why you are playing up to Lord Snowly! For God’s sake, tell him! It doesn’t matter what he says about not spilling secrets! This is too important! Just tell him!

  Except that she couldn’t, for her father’s machinations were not the only reason she had flirted with Noah. She had also flirted because she enjoyed it. Because she was attracted to him. Just as she suspected that was the reason Francis had flirted and danced with Lady Priscilla. Charlotte could not quite bring herself to refer to the other woman as “Cilla” just yet.

  Charlotte understood that few ton marriages were faithful. Most gentlemen had mistresses. Perhaps not among her immediate friends, but they were the exception. Just because a man married a woman did not mean that he would not bed another if temptation presented itself. The same was true of women, her own parents being excellent examples of this.

  However, she had never imagined that her parents’ fate would be hers as well. She had thought she would be different and that her husband would love her enough to be faithful to her and her alone. What if she was wrong? Because obviously Francis was attracted to Lady Priscilla and she could not deny that she herself was attracted to Noah. Was she to be just like everyone else? Oh, she hoped not!

  She should say no to this outrageous proposal. Charlotte knew she should. She should simply pledge herself to Francis here and now, vow to wait until he was ready to marry and damn the consequences with her father. Except she couldn’t do that because, despite the fact that it hurt when Francis had articulated the plan, he was essentially offering her exactly what she had said she wanted. He was giving her time to explore and decide if a future with him was what she truly desired. A way to make certain she didn’t end up with a replica of her parents’ marriage.