She began to shake her head. “No. You don’t understand.”
He smiled at her. “Are you denying that, Miss Danvers?”
She sighed and closed her eyes, which gave him the opportunity to kiss her again. And kiss her, he did. His mouth explored hers, touching, tasting, nipping, soothing. As much as he wanted to strip all her clothes off and plunge into her warm moistness, he was satisfied with just holding her and feeling her safe in his arms.
Never had he been satisfied with mere kisses, always anxious to take the next step. Miss Danvers was different. An innocent. A sweet gently reared young woman who he was growing more and more fond of every day.
He pulled back and ran his knuckle down her soft cheek. “I care for you, Lottie. Very much so. We have a lot in common, and you know there is a bond between us. There has been since you dumped your wine on me.” He grinned when she smiled. “With your permission, I would like to court you.”
Her sad eyes returned, and she offered him a forlorn smile. “No. I am afraid that is not possible.”
Had she stated that emphatically, he would have stopped, but her reluctance was evident in the sorrow on her face.
“I don’t know what is troubling you, or what happened in your life that is making you so very sad, but can you trust me?”
The carriage came to a slow stop in front of her building. “Lottie?”
She pulled back and shook her head. “No. I-I don’t think it would work. You deserve much more than me.” Before he could respond to that strange remark, she turned and fumbled with the door, jumping from the carriage before he could even assist her. She stumbled and went down on one knee, quickly recovering, and moved forward.
“Lottie!” He jumped out after her, but she scurried up the steps and quickly opened the outside door, slamming it in his face without even turning around as he reached the top step.
What the hell just happened?
Lottie rested her chin on her propped-up hand and stared into the mirror over the dressing table in her bedroom. The Assembly the night before had been a disaster.
She feared Lord Sterling would eventually figure out why she looked familiar. The repeated questions he badgered her with during their dance almost had her walking off the floor. Thankfully, Carter seemed to notice her distress and rescued her.
Once again.
It surprised her that now she thought of him as Carter. After all, how could one continue to call a gentleman, Mr. Westbrooke, when said gentleman had kissed her senseless?
And senseless she had been. After that wonderful—and her first ever—kiss, she felt warm, happy, and contented. That was the sort of thing young girls dreamed of, and some were fortunate enough to have. A man who cared for them and gave them impressive kisses.
And then after he’d saved her from that dreadful man, she’d made a fool of herself by running off when he asked to court her. It was a simple request, and probably one he felt was innocuous enough to certainly not have her fleeing like the hounds of hell were after her.
He must think her a total ninny.
Now she was faced with church service—which she tried to never miss—and running into Carter and having to face him.
Church services in the small chapel, the students had attended in France, were much more elaborate than the services in England, but she still derived a great deal of peace when she worshiped.
She took a deep breath and picked up her brush to fix her hair. She felt as though her safe little world was crumbling. What if she had to flee Bath as she had London?
Despite Lottie’s insistence that she could support herself, Mama had continued to send her money each month. The money was sitting in a bank account in Bath, untouched. If she found it necessary to once again leave her home, she would be forced to use that money. The little bit she earned from instructing young ladies on proper behavior barely kept her fed and a roof over her head.
6
As always, she walked the distance from her flat to the church. It was a lovely day and the brisk cool air felt good on her face. She spoke briefly to the greeters at the door and found a seat near the middle. As was her habit, she picked up the hymnal sitting on the shelf below the pew in front of her.
“Good morning, Miss Danvers.” So engrossed was she in the book, she jumped when Mr. Westbrooke slid in alongside her. She moved over to give him more room, or perhaps to put more space between them.
She felt the heat start in her middle and travel rapidly up her body until she was sure her face was bright enough to direct a ship to shore. “Good morning, Mr. Westbrooke.” She immediately dropped the hymnal, bent to retrieve it, and banged her head on the pew in front of her.
“Allow me.” Mr. Westbrooke touched her arm to keep her from moving. Oh, how she wished she could crawl away and return home, never to show her face again. Why he continued to show interest in her with all her bumbling and running away and generally acting like a fool baffled her.
He picked up the book and handed it to her just as the vicar began the service. She took a deep breath and flipped through the pages until she found the correct hymn at the same time the congregation ceased singing.
She made herself sit absolutely still during the sermon, tithing, and Communion. If she didn’t move a muscle perhaps, she would not make a laughingstock of herself any more than she already had.
“May I entice you to join me for a light luncheon, Miss Danvers?” They had just nodded to the vicar and stepped out into the sunshine. Lottie was so torn. She really liked Mr. Westbrooke, but there was nowhere this friendship could go. Encouraging him was not fair.
“I don’t think that is a good idea.” Her half-hearted response did not seem to discourage him.
He leaned in, close to her ear. “What if I promise not to kiss you again?” He stepped back and regarded her with raised eyebrows.
Blast! There went the heat from her middle again. Except this time, it wasn’t only embarrassment, but more a sense of awareness of Mr. Westbrooke; a memory of his kiss and how much she’d enjoyed it. Along with the heat was a distinct, unfamiliar tingle in her breasts and the area between her legs. Places to which she’d never given much thought.
She raised her chin. “I hardly remember that kiss at all.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to bring them back. Especially when he grinned, knowing full well the kiss was emblazoned on her mind.
Although she was a novice at such things no doubt Mr. Westbrooke had kissed many women and knew when the lady had been affected by his kiss.
And she definitely had been.
“Oh, very well. I will accept your invitation.” She cringed at how impolite that sounded. She continued to do things around this man that would appall her students. When she wasn’t tripping over everything. The man definitely had the ability to rattle her.
He bowed. “Thank you.” He extended his arm. “My carriage is around the corner.
They strolled along, with Mr. Westbrooke making small talk. Lottie was usually very good at it, but not now, as she was still uncomfortable about their last parting. But Mr. Westbrooke acted as if nothing was wrong with the fact that she only nodded at all his comments.
He seemed to also forget, or pretend to forget, her unladylike departure when he brought her home after the dance the night before. She was torn between frustration that he wouldn’t give up on her and admiration for his tenaciousness.
“Where is your friend, Lady Pamela?”
“She generally attends church with me, but once in a while she ignores her alarm clock and misses the service.” She grinned. “I would say this is one of those days.”
He’d directed his driver to bring them to a small restaurant on Milsom Place, one of Lottie’s favorite areas in Bath to take an afternoon stroll with all the shops and eateries there.
“I hope this meets with your approval?” He held his hand out as she stepped from the carriage.
“Yes. I love this restaurant but have only eaten here once or twice.”
She didn’t add it was too expensive for her purse and had to save several weeks to be able to join her two friends there.
He opened the door to the restaurant to allow her to enter. “It is one of my favorites as well.”
He apparently had eaten there several times since he was well-known among the staff. They were led to a lovely table near the front windows which allowed a good amount of light since the day had turned cloudy.
The room only held about a dozen tables, and most of them were full. Wonderful scents came from the kitchen each time a server entered or left the dining room to fetch food.
“What looks good to you?” Mr. Westbrook asked as Lottie perused the menu.
“Everything,” she said and grinned. “I am quite hungry.”
“Then I am particularly happy that I invited you to join me for luncheon.” He returned his attention to the menu, both of them remaining silent as they read over the choices.
“Have you decided yet?” The waiter stood at their table, his pad and pencil at the ready.
“Miss Danvers?” Mr. Westbrooke asked.
She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said everything looked good and that she was quite hungry. However, making a glutton of herself was not well done. “I believe I will have the roasted beef.”
“Ah. A very good choice,” the waiter said as he noted her selection. “And for you sir?”
“I believe the lady has made a good selection, and I will have the same.” Mr. Westbrooke closed his menu and handed it over to the waiter who made a slight bow and left them.
Carter studied Lottie as the waiter took his leave and returned to the kitchen to fetch their food. Given the abrupt way they’d parted the night before, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find her in church. And even more pleased to find she didn’t hit him over the head with the hymnal.
Although he found her behavior confusing, he continued to believe she had something in her past—something to do with nobility—that kept her on edge. Sometimes she was completely relaxed and other times he could almost see the tension start and the fear in her eyes.
He found it quite difficult to understand why she abruptly raced from a gentleman requesting to court her. Did she truly expect to spend her life away from society, teaching young ladies’ deportment? That was no life for a beautiful young woman and would certainly not pay very well.
What had happened in her life to put her on that path?
However, given how distraught she’d become when he asked to court her, he considered it quite a boon that she had agreed to join him for luncheon. If he were to move forward with what he hoped to be courtship, followed by marriage, he had to tread lightly. For whatever reason, she was quite skittish.
Most ladies liked to talk about themselves, so perhaps some conversation along the lines of her work might get her to open up a bit more. There was no doubt in his mind that she was hiding something that troubled her a great deal. His mind kept returning to a broken heart, or perhaps an occurrence even more sinister, which always managed to raise his ire when he considered it.
“How many students do you teach?” That seemed to be quite an innocuous question.
She must have thought so too because she offered him a soft smile. “I currently have six young ladies. Four of them will make their debut in London when the next Season starts. The other two have another year, but their mothers wanted them to have extra time to be prepared.”
“And what comprises your lessons?” He nodded at the waiter who placed their food in front of them. Delicious roasted beef, along with Yorkshire pudding, gravy, mushy peas, and boiled potatoes and carrots. He also placed a small, warm loaf of bread with a crock of butter on the table.
As they began to eat, Lottie talked about her students, each of their strengths and weaknesses and what they needed to accomplish to be successful on the Marriage Mart. Her eyes lit up as she talked, obviously loving the world that the girls were intended for.
But from what she said, not a world she intended for herself. Why? But his caution led him to silence and instead enjoyed her conversation.
Suddenly, Carter had a wonderful idea that would move his courtship along without Lottie suspecting his intents. “I say, it would seem to me that having a gentleman on hand to help the girls learn how to converse in Society might make a difference in their training. I find so many of the young ladies making their come-outs seem to be a bit—shall we say—shy? I’ve met some who could hardly speak of more than hair ribbons and gown colors.”
Lottie sat very still and studied him. Had he pushed too far, too fast? When a slow smile spread across her face, he relaxed. She wasn’t jumping up and racing from the room.
“That is a wonderful idea.” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t suppose you would be volunteering to help, would you?” Her smirk told him she knew exactly what he was doing but didn’t seem upset by his suggestion.
He grinned back and gave a slight bow. “I am at your service, Miss Danvers.”
“It must be someplace public so as not to cause any sort of a scandal.”
“How about tea in the Pump Room?”
“Perfect! I can watch them closely to see how they conduct themselves in public, how they take their tea, engage in conversation, and make a good impression.” Lottie tapped her lips with her fingertip. “I believe taking two girls out at a time would work best. If we had all six of them together it would be too difficult to assess each girl’s behavior.”
Carter placed his napkin alongside his plate and sat back. Thank goodness she suggested only two girls at a time. He nearly panicked at the thought of six young ladies all giggling and fluttering their eyelashes at him.
“Then it is settled. Just let me know when and I will arrive at your home to escort you and two young ladies to tea.”
“But you have a business to run, Mr. Westbrooke.”
“Indeed, I do. But I can make time in my day to help young ladies be successful in their hunt for a husband.”
Lottie’s lips tightened. “I hate that term. It makes it all seem so cold, so calculating. I picture young girls with a bow and arrow pointed at some gentleman who is trying his best to escape.
“I prefer to think that the girls will be enjoying a social life while they decide if the gentleman paying them court is the one they care to spend the rest of their lives with.”
“Ah, I believe you are a romantic, Miss Danvers.”
She hesitated long enough that he began to think she would not answer him. Then she said, “Not exactly a romantic, Mr. Westbrooke, but I simply want more for my girls than what some of their parents do.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I like to think we are friends.”
She looked surprised at the turn of conversation. “I-I guess so.”
“Then please let us dispense with the formality. I would like for you to call me Carter, and I hope to gain your permission to call you Lottie.” He grinned. “I love that name, you know. It suits you so very well.”
“It’s really Charlotte, you know. Once I began my new life in Bath, I changed it to Lottie. Actually, it was my two friends’ idea. However, with regard to your request, though I still think it is improper, perhaps when no one is around to hear us, it might be acceptable. But I don’t understand why it is important to you.”
Despite knowing precisely why it was important to him, he remained silent. If he again mentioned his intention to court her and eventually—hopefully— marry her, he would most likely end up chasing her down the streets of Bath.
“Let’s just say I feel that it’s something that friends would do. For example, do you call Lady Pamela by that title? Or now that Miss Mallory is Lady Berkshire, will you be calling her that?”
“No.” She laughed. “All right, Mr. Westbro—rather, Carter. You have made your point.”
“May I interest you in dessert?” The waiter had returned and began to remove their dishes.
“I would certainly like some
of that blancmange on the menu.” Carter looked over at Lottie. “What will you have?”
“I probably shouldn’t have dessert after that wonderful meal, but I cannot pass up the Victoria sponge.”
“Tea, also, if you will,” Carter added.
“When shall we take our first couple of young ladies to the Pump Room?” Carter was anxious to pin Lottie down before she came up with another excuse not to see him again.
“I will look at my schedule and consult with the girls. Is it all right if I send a note around? If the day and time doesn’t fit into your schedule, please do not put off your work to help me. We can always do it another time.”
He continued to stare at her mesmerizing mouth as she spoke. He wanted very badly to lean across the table and cover her lips with his. No other woman had ever affected him this way. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t eat, sleep, or work without thoughts of her invading his mind.
“My schedule is flexible. I am sure whatever time you select I will be available. After all, we are preparing young ladies for successful matches. That is truly a worthy cause. Is it not?”
He didn’t care for the slight flush that covered Lottie’s face, but just then the waiter arrived with their tea and dessert, ending the conversation. She smiled up at the waiter and thanked him.
Carter was jealous of the waiter.
He’d fallen hard.
7
Carter waved at Grayson, Lord Berkshire, as he entered Boodle’s, an exclusive gentlemen’s club on Pall Mall in London. They had arranged to meet to discuss a new business venture they were considering.
“Well, aren’t you looking very much the happy groom!” Carter took the seat across from Grayson in the dining area of the club. The room was full of other diners, men who had business to attend to, and a few of the idle nobility who had not yet come to realize that the world was changing and unless they changed with it, they would find themselves in dire straits.
At least a few of them understood the situation and had married young ladies from America with large dowries.
The Courtesan’s Daughter and the Gentleman: The Merry Misfits of Bath ~ Book Two Page 6
