Befuddled, Lord Courtland glanced from the earl to his niece and back again. "Carry on. Of course. We'll send Fifi's trunks up as soon as possible."
"Marvelous," Fifi chirped, hooking her arms more tightly around Charlton's neck. "Walk on, sir."
He bounded up the main staircase when her uncle called to him. "I say, Lord Charlton, shall I send for a surgeon?"
"No," both he and Fifi responded together.
Charlton faced his host. "I've examined Lady Fiona's ankle, sir, and she needs rest, a compress and ice."
"Ice!" Lady Courtland said. "Of course!"
"Perhaps, tea, too, Aunt?" Fifi asked over his shoulder as her chivalrous knight ascended the stairs. "And cakes?"
"You shall have it, dear girl. And you, Lord Charlton? May I send you tea as well?"
"Tea would be splendid, Lady Courtland." He did not stop but took the landing around as he winked at Fifi.
"Aunt?" Fifi called down. "Brandy is in order. For his lordship, you see."
Charlton chuckled. "Fine idea!"
"Certainly!" Lord Courtland added. "Should have said it myself. You shall have it!"
"Superb," Fifi and Charlton said together as he proceeded up the stairs and followed Thomas down the hall.
"Here we are, my lord." Thomas opened the door for them.
"Lovely, Thomas," Charlton said as he turned fully around to allow her to view her accommodations. "Any special requests, my lady?"
"None."Only to have your company for a bit longer.
His grey eyes melted into hers. Her entire body tingled that here was a man who did not berate her or dismiss her, but valued her.
"Thomas," he said, his gaze still on hers, "do bring lengths of cloth. I must wrap the lady's ankle in something more sturdy. Burlap or flannel. Whatever you have. That will be all. Until the refreshments arrive."
With that, the footman took his leave.
"I'd say this will be your chair." Charlton selected an overstuffed wing chair near the fireplace. There he set her down, plumped up a few cushions behind her and pulled close a hassock upon which he propped her injured foot.
She sighed into its sumptuous appointments and regarded him with a saucy tilt of her head. "What else will you command for me?"
He lifted her hand and placed his firm warm lips to her skin. "Say the word. Whatever you want is yours."
She grinned, and as if her look were wicked, he arched a brow.
Oh, the door did remain open. They were quite acceptable. But she must tell him to go. Then for the rest of this party, she must not seek his attention. Charlton was a name forbidden to her. And she knew not why. Her father was long dead. Her mother, long unmoored from her reason. Secrecy of past transgressions by her father was the family watchword. She had only one way to learn more.
It was a path forward into mystery and perhaps shame. Should she take it?
"You've been more than kind." She owed him that thanks at the very least.
“I must apologize for being curt with you.”
She waved that off. “I need no apology, good sir. I am quite certain I've caused you to regret the service of your embrace."
"Trust me, embracing you will never be a service."
His words burned a path to her soul. Her own words came forth, a whisper of forbidden desires. "You must not say such lovely things."
