by Georgie Lee
Suddenly, a man’s angry voice, followed by the heavy stomp of boots making their way down the hallway toward the gallery, caught her attention.
“I demand to see who’s robbed me of the painting. If you won’t see reason, maybe he will.”
“Your lordship, I assure you, there are other pieces to satisfy your interest,” Mr. Taylor urged.
Minnie gave an enthusiastic yip, her attention focused on the door, her tail wagging excitedly.
“Who is it, Minnie? Someone we know? No one we know is so rude.”
Lord Woodcliff stormed in followed by Mr. Taylor. He stopped short at the threshold, his shock temporarily overwhelming his anger. “Miss Stuart?”
“Lord Woodcliff?” He was the last person she wanted to meet here.
Minnie bounded toward him, oblivious to his foul mood as she jumped excitedly at his legs.
“Minnie, bad girl. Come here this instant.” The little dog slunk toward Charlotte, who snatched her from the floor and tucked her under her arm.
“So it’s you who’s stolen my painting?” Lord Woodcliff accused, his hand tight on his walking stick.
Charlotte threw back her shoulders in defiance. “One cannot steal something which you do not own. I’ve purchased the painting, therefore, it’s mine.”
“You can’t understand the value of this painting.”
“Yes, you’ve told me before how ladies possess little knowledge.”
Lord Woodcliff started at this remark and his expression softened. “I apologize if I’ve offended you. I didn’t mean to imply you know nothing of art. The painting has a certain sentimental value to me and I’ll gladly pay you double for it.”
The apology was so unexpected, Charlotte almost nodded for him to take the work, but something in Lord Woodcliff’s arrogant presumption he could have his way made her fight him.
“Then you may pay the Widows and Orphans Fund double for it at Mrs. Greenville’s charity auction. Mr. Taylor, please have the painting sent to my uncle’s house at once; his solicitor will arrange payment.”
“I’ll see to it immediately.” Mr. Taylor lifted the painting off its nail and hurried away, leaving his clients to discuss their differences in private.
Lord Woodcliff marched up to her, his sure stride as striking as his anger. “There’s no reason for you to be stubborn about the painting.”
“Your attitude toward me each time we’ve met is reason enough.”
Lord Woodcliff shifted closer, his face inches from hers, and something deep within her thrilled at the low tone of his voice. “I suppose you think yourself blameless for it?”
“I’ve done nothing to provoke your condescension or your ire.” She refused to give him any quarter, as there was something in this game of wills she sensed he enjoyed playing as much as she did.
“You’ve done nothing to dispel it either.” The spice of his cologne, made richer by the heat of his skin wound, through her senses like fine incense.
“And what would you have me do?” she demanded in a teasing tone far more suggestive than decency dictated.
His lips parted as though he meant to speak but he remained silent, his blue eyes riveted to hers. She tilted her face to his, daring and enticing him to answer. His breath brushed her cheeks like a summer breeze and she parted her lips, wondering what his would feel like on hers. His gaze danced down to her mouth then rose and she knew he wondered the same thing. He shifted so close to her she could easily fall against his chest and silence all his rebukes with something more daring than words. She should move away, now, before she did something she might regret, but she couldn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes, shivering with anticipation as she sensed him drawing near.
A cough from somewhere behind him broke the spell.
Charlotte’s eyes flew open, as did his, locking on hers for an instant before she and Lord Woodcliff jumped apart. Her face burned with embarrassment as she turned to see Lady Redding and Aunt Mary standing in the doorway. Judging from Aunt Mary’s wide-eyed shock and Lady Redding’s amused smirk, Charlotte knew they’d seen and heard everything.
Lady Redding swept into the room, her hand outstretched for Lord Woodcliff to take. “Edward, what a pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He bowed as if they were in the middle of Cheapside and hadn’t been on the verge of creating a scandal.
Charlotte wished she’d conducted herself with as much dignity, then she wouldn’t be in this strange situation.
“How’s your father? It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. I hope your presence in London will entice him to Town?”
Lord Woodcliff shook his head, at ease in the older woman’s presence, but the tightness remained along the line of his shoulders. Charlotte was glad, for it meant he was as bothered by what’d happened as her. “London is too crowded for his tastes. He prefers the pleasures of the country.”
“As we all do. It’s only sport which drives us to Town.” Lady Redding slid a sly glance at Charlotte who clutched Minnie so close the dog whimpered, forcing Charlotte to ease her hold. “If I can’t have your father, then I must have you at my salon so we can properly converse. I look forward to hearing about your travels. I’ll send the invitation this afternoon.”
“It would be my pleasure to attend.”
Charlotte fought the urge to object to Lady Redding’s invitation. After today, she never wanted to see the man again, but it wasn’t her decision to make. Stroking Minnie’s fur, she tried to settle herself. After all, Lady Redding’s salon would be crowded with her usual mix of intellectuals and interesting people and Charlotte could easily avoid Lord Woodcliff. Before Lady Redding could say more, Charlotte stepped forward, taking her aunt by the elbow.
“We must be going. I’m expected at the booksellers this afternoon.”
“And Mrs. Knight is coming for tea.”
“I’m afraid we must take our leave.” Lady Redding curtseyed to Lord Woodcliff who returned her farewell with a bow.
As he rose, he caught Charlotte’s eye, regarding her with a look she couldn’t read but felt in her toes. It wasn’t irritation but something more, much more.
She dipped hastily, stumbling slightly as she turned to leave.
“Are you all right my dear?” Aunt Mary asked.
Charlotte flashed her and Lord Woodcliff a large smile. “Perfectly, there is only a dip in the floor.”
She made for the door. Aunt Mary and Lady Redding followed behind her, whispering between themselves.
“I feel no dip,” Aunt Mary observed.
“We’ll discuss the matter further in the carriage.”
They could discuss whatever they liked for Charlotte was quite done with Lord Woodcliff and this whole awkward morning.
*****
As the coachman snapped the horses into motion, Charlotte tried unsuccessfully to avoid the questioning looks of the older ladies. She suddenly wished for one of her aunt’s lectures, anything to break the silence and wipe the amused grins off both Aunt Mary’s and Lady Redding’s faces.
“I didn’t realize you were on such intimate terms with Lord Woodcliff,” Lady Redding remarked at last and Charlotte braced herself.
“I’ll be glad never to see him again.”
“I think you do wish to see him again.”
“Why would you think that?” Though she knew exactly why and it increased the anxiety already making her pulse thump in her ears.
Aunt Mary leveled a sober look at her friend. “Emily, you’ve gone too far. If you say more you’ll give Charlotte a fit of the vapors.”
Both ladies dissolved into a fit of laughter.
Charlotte pressed her lips tight in disapproval, both at the ladies’ ridiculous behavior and her own. She had no idea what’d come over her in the gallery. One minute she’d loathed the man, the next she’d almost kissed him. It made no sense.
She hugged Minnie to her chest, thinking the Season couldn’t end soon enough so she could escape this ri
diculous city where a lord showed his interest by fuming and forcing her to answer back until she forgot herself. Whatever it was about Lord Woodcliff’s eyes which had transfixed her until she’d practically thrown herself against him, she wouldn’t allow it to happen again. She was not interested in Lord Woodcliff no matter what Aunt Mary or Lady Redding implied and she would make sure they knew it.
She never got the chance. The two older ladies laughed and teased her for what seemed like an eternity before the carriage finally arrived at the Stuarts’ front door. Eager to escape the tight space and the chortling women, she snatched up Minnie and bounded out the door, banging it shut behind her.
*****
Once Charlotte was gone, Mary leaned toward Lady Redding, eager for her friend’s opinion. “Do you really think an attachment is developing between Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff?”
“Indeed and we must do everything we can to encourage it. I’ll speak with Lady Sefton about securing a voucher for Charlotte to Almack’s.”
“The invitation will be easier to secure than Charlotte’s attendance.” Mary tensed at the thought of the argument sure to follow any suggestion of Almack’s.
“Then you must find a way to interest her. Lord Woodcliff has come to London to find a wife so he’s sure to be there. His father told me so when he last wrote to me.”
Mary twisted her handkerchief through her fingers. “Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff. Lady Charlotte Woodcliff. Is it really possible?”
“Yes, but only if they’re much thrown together. They’re both too obstinate to be left to discover one another on their own. You must insist Charlotte accept all invitations and attend every social event this Season.”
“That won’t be easy,” Mary clucked as she gathered up her reticule and fan. “But I’ll do my best.”
“And I’ll work to encourage Lord Woodcliff. I know someone who might be able to assist me.”
Mary stepped out of the carriage and bade Lady Redding goodbye. It seemed strange to think Charlotte, who knew her mind so well, should form an attachment without realizing it. But she also understood the strength of Charlotte’s determination to avoid marriage. Mary clapped her hands together in excited anticipation as she hurried into the house to find Charles and tell him the good news. If something was blooming between Charlotte and Lord Woodcliff, then she and Lady Redding would draw it out and she might at last see Charlotte happily settled.
Chapter Five
Edward eased his horse into a gentle gait as they crested one grassy knoll in Hyde Park. A thin morning fog nestled in between the trees and rolling lawns, muting the sounds of the few riders who’d braved the morning chill to come here. Edward appreciated the quiet, but it did little to clear his mind. In fact, nothing over the last week had distracted him from thoughts of Miss Stuart or how close he’d come to wiping away her impudent smile with a kiss. Even now he could recall the sunlight playing in the depths of her hair, and her hazel-green eyes flashing with a confusion and disappointment to match his own when they’d been interrupted.
It astounded him, both his reaction to her and her response to him. He could barely tolerate her company, yet every time they met he wanted to take her supple body in his arms and silence her retorts with his lips. It wasn’t simply her beauty which kept drawing him back to her, or the awareness of her lilac perfume and every swish of her skirts whenever she was near. It was her experiences abroad and the confidence they gave her.
At some point between leaving Mr. Taylor’s last week and mounting his horse this morning, he’d fallen for Miss Charlotte Stuart.
He jerked the reins to the left, sending the horse off the grass and onto the deserted dirt of Rotten Row.
Miss Stuart was trouble, and he wanted a vexing woman less than he wanted one hungry for a title. His stepmother was trouble and he should heed the lesson of his father’s mistake and forget Miss Stuart. However, no matter what he did, he couldn’t put her out of his mind. She intrigued him as much as she confounded him and he hated her ability to tie him in knots. It’d begun the first day they’d met at the Royal Academy. He’d been eager to discuss with her the sights and pleasures of Europe but something in the way she’d faced him square on, not tilting her face to peer coquettishly up at him like so many other woman did, had tied his tongue like never before. His nervousness had turned to arrogance and everything between them had deteriorated from there. Now she regarded every one of his comments, no matter how helpful, as some attempt to belittle her. Yet there’d been a moment in Hookham’s when the conflict between them had dropped and they’d regarded one another without hostility or suspicion. In it, he’d caught the faint flicker of friendship. It was too slender an experience to hang any future on, but he still couldn’t forget it or the hope it offered.
He jabbed his heels into the animal’s flanks and sent it off into a run. The cold morning air burned his cheeks as he and the animal thundered down the row.
There was no future with her. He needed to forget Miss Stuart, to find another woman, one with fewer opinions or a softer voice in which to express them. But the more Edward tried to forget her, the more he recalled the curve of her bosom when it heaved with anger. He was so lost in thoughts of her high cheeks and the round arch of her shoulders above her blue dress, he didn’t see the other horse and rider emerge from the trees until he was practically on top of them.
“Watch out!”
Edward yanked his horse to the right, narrowly avoiding a collision.
“What are you doing riding neck or nothing here?” the other rider yelled as he worked to bring his spooked mount under control.
Edward instantly recognized Henry atop the fine bit of blood. “Good morning.”
“Not so good if I’m thrown,” he snapped.
“My apologies.” Edward came up alongside Henry, whose horse now stood calmly in the center of the riding path. “What are you doing out this early?”
“Looking for you. Your man said you were here. Where have you been all week? You’ve missed every party and if it weren’t for Miss Knight, I’d have been bored to tears.”
“I was attending to business,” Edward shrugged, unwilling to admit his true reason for staying away but Henry eyed him knowingly.
“The business of forgetting a certain someone?”
Edward nudged his horse into a walk, imagining what he must have heard from Miss Knight who’d heard heaven only knows what from Miss Stuart.
“So I’m right,” Henry whistled, then laughed off Edward’s glare. “If it’s any comfort, Miss Stuart hasn’t looked any happier than you. She’s been at every party this week. The aunt’s doing I think.”
“Has she asked about me?” The question slipped out before Edward could check himself.
Henry shook his head. “No, but Miss Knight says she speaks of you. Not favorably but often enough to make one wonder. Admit it Edward, you’ve developed an interest in Miss Stuart.”
“If I have, there’s little I can do to recommend myself to her. We seem unable to have a civilized conversation.”
“You’re both too stubborn. Perhaps if you yield, she might do the same.”
“I doubt it,” Edward grumbled.
“Then let’s wager on it. Come with me to Almack’s tonight, keep your tongue in check and see if Miss Stuart doesn’t take a fancy to you. If she does, you owe me ten pounds.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“I’ll owe you ten pounds.”
“You’ll lose the wager.”
“Perhaps, but tonight we’ll find out. I’ll call for you at eight.” Before Edward could answer, Henry took off at a gallop across the park.
Edward watched him go, annoyed. It was typical of Henry to assume Edward would attend. He pulled his horse around and headed back toward his house. Other riders were quickly filling the park and Edward didn’t want to risk any awkward encounters. He knew little of Miss Stuart’s habits but, since many young ladies and their grooms rode in the morning, it seemed possib
le she might as well. As he left, he searched every face but none had her eyes or her fine nose, much to his disappointment.
Once home, he handed his riding crop and gloves to the butler, catching the smell of eggs and ham combined with the familiar scent of gun oil.
“Is my father here?”
“Yes milord, he’s in the dining room.”
Edward hurried down the hall to the dining room where he found his father enjoying a hearty breakfast. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m happy to see you too.” George waved his son into the chair across from his. “Sit and have your breakfast. You look like you haven’t tasted food in days.”
Edward, who hadn’t eaten well over the last week, sat down across the small table from George as the footman procured a fresh plate of ham and eggs from the sideboard.
Edward pushed his food around the plate with his fork as he studied his father from the corner of his eye.
George grabbed the salt bowl and doused his plate with a hearty pinch. “What’s on your mind boy? All your staring is ruining my appetite.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
“I’m surprised, especially since you haven’t been to London in almost twenty years.”
“I needed a change of scenery,” George offered between mouthfuls of egg. “Have you courted many young ladies or is there one in particular who’s caught your fancy?”
Edward shoved his plate aside and sat back in his chair. For once he was thankful for his father’s blunt manner for it saved him the trouble of drawing out his true reason for coming to Town. “No lady to speak of.”
“Why not? You’ve been here for over six weeks. Ample time to choose.” George rose and helped himself to another plate of food from the sideboard.
“I’ve yet to find a woman worthy of my attention.” Edward attempted to sound as lackadaisical as possible.
“What about this Miss Stuart?”
There went his air of not caring. “Who told you of Miss Stuart?”
