“I see Lady Prescott is fond of the French style for her family. It is rather complex to fasten and time-consuming to reverse the process. Very frustrating at times.”
Charlotte had half turned away from him and felt his fingers on the buttons that were undone to her shoulder blades. The meaning of his words struck her at once.
He is talking about undressing a woman wearing such a garment. Is he something of a rake? How could you become involved with such a man, Amelia?
Charlotte knew that the proper course of action was to step beyond the reach of his hands and demand he leave the room while she finished dressing, but she found herself reluctant to do so. She found that she liked his proximity to her. She breathed in his scent, musky and with a hint of spice. His touch was firm and confident.
She suppressed a gasp as she felt him lift her hair where it interfered with the buttons. She swallowed, knowing that her shoulders and the back of her neck were exposed to him. He could touch her before she knew what he was doing. Could kiss her...
“I did not know you had a birthmark…” Seth murmured.
She felt him touch the spot on her right shoulder, in the shape of a butterfly. Amelia had the same mark, but in the middle of her back.
“That is because I have not been this undressed in front of you before. Why would you know of it?” Charlotte put forward smoothly.
It was a gamble. Surely, Amelia would not have compromised herself with this man. It was also a question. His response would tell Charlotte much about his relationship with her sister.
“True,” Seth shrugged, continuing to fasten the buttons, “it is a very pretty birthmark. Discovering such a thing is often like unwrapping a birthday present. It is a pleasant surprise to discover.”
Charlotte turned, feeling the last button closed. She shook her hair to tumble about her face and fixed Seth with a glare.
“What an odd and entirely inappropriate thing to say to your betrothed!” she chided, protectiveness for her sister arising to the forefront. “The implication being that you enjoy unwrapping women and discovering that which they hide from the world!”
“Every man has a history. Your claim is on my present and future, not my past,” Seth replied.
“You admit to being... a...rake?” Charlotte demanded.
For some reason, this accusation, which any decent gentleman would deny and be offended by, made his smile grow wider.
“I think my reputation spoke for itself when we met. You chose me and I have since been dedicated to you,” Seth added.
His words were entirely correct, but the gleam in his eye said that he did not mean them. He appeared to be engaged in a jest he found very funny, but was not willing to share with his audience, probably because it was made at the expense of his audience.
“That is most gratifying to know. Do you know that time has quite flown by since we met? I cannot even recall exactly how long it has been,” Charlotte stated, hoping to gather a little more insight into this peculiar relationship between this gentleman and her sister.
“I think it has been… two months. Yes, we were introduced at the Duke of Cornwall’s ball just a few days after Lady Sarah Vickers broke off her engagement to me.”
He was watching her intently, as though looking for a reaction. It meant that his eyes were on her face. It was not unpleasant to be the subject of such intense scrutiny. Charlotte tried to put herself into Amelia’s shoes. Her sister was a confident socialite, attending balls, luncheons, and galas frequently. Relegated to the bottom of the hierarchy at Prescott by virtue of being a niece rather than a daughter, she was still competent at navigating the currents of the ton.
“Has it been that long? And when did you know that you wished to marry me?” Charlotte asked.
“Ah, you seek reassurance? Do you want to be reminded of the depth of my feelings? How should I respond? With honesty or with diplomacy?”
Seth had moved closer. Charlotte backed away as he did until she became aware that she had maneuvered herself into a trap. The bed barred her to the right and her nightstand to the left. Behind her was the wall.
“I should hope that you have always been honest with me,” Charlotte said, a touch breathless.
“But we are both familiar with the rules of the game, are we not? We exist within the ton and follow its rules. Such rules rarely touch on honesty. Here is my answer. I knew I wanted to marry you from the moment I first set my eyes upon you. I could never forget your dark eyes. So mysterious. So inviting…”
His tone became quiet as he spoke, almost fervent. It was either passion or the appearance of it. Charlotte felt her heart thudding against her bosom and was conscious of how her deep breathing would move that part of her body in a way a man would find enticing. She fought to control the reaction her body felt to this man.
And what of his reactions to me? No, to Amelia. There is color in his cheeks. His lips are parted. Is it attraction? Desire? Or play-acting?
“Or perhaps I was instructed to wooAmelia Nightingaleas you were deemed a suitable marriage match for a man of my rank,” Seth said, suddenly insouciant, even arrogant.
He was still close, close enough that Charlotte could reach out and touch him if she chose. She resisted the urge.
It would be a good way to judge how far this relationship has progressed and ensure he is well and truly snared for Amelia, unless this switch has been to get away from him.
