“How… economical,” she replied, opening the wardrobes and cupboards as she explored the room. “I do admire thrift in a man. It is a sensible quality.”
Seth turned suddenly, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Can you cook? I have meant to ask before, but it has always slipped my mind.”
“Cook?” Charlotte said innocently.
Of course, Amelia would be lost in a kitchen, as would most ladies of noble birth in England. Servants took care of culinary chores. But Charlotte had not lived the life of an aristocrat in Yorkshire. She had learned to bake as a girl from Mrs. Garret, enjoying the warmth and good smells of the kitchen.
“Why, I do have some knowledge of cooking, yes. Do you expect your Duchess to cook for you?”
Seth’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, and he turned back to the fire. This time, he poked it roughly enough to send sparks soaring up the chimney.
“Possibly, yes,” he muttered.
Charlotte sat on a divan at the end of the bed, folding her hands in her lap.
“Do you wish to be betrothed to me?” she finally asked sincerely.
Seth looked back at her. Charlotte found that she was holding her breath. It meant nothing to her, but it might be veryimportant for her sister. It seemed obvious to Charlotte that Seth was trying to present himself well. Did not seem to care for impressing her. Which was odd behaviour in a suitor.
The only conclusion I can reach is that he is either ambivalent or does not want to marry. In that case, why are we going through this rigamarole?
“Of course I do,” he nodded.
“Do you love me?” Charlotte then asked, quietly.
There was an unbearable thrill running through her at the thought that she might hear those words spoken by him to her. It would not be to Charlotte that he spoke but to Amelia. But Charlotte could pretend if she wished. It would be Charlotte that he would be looking at while he spoke. Charlotte would be gazing into his eyes.
And they are quite lovely eyes indeed.
“Is that a requirement?” he murmured. “I should say that most marriages between people of our station do not begin with love.”
“I should like mine to. What else drew you to me?”
“Your beauty,” he replied simply, crossing the room towards her, slowly and deliberately until Charlotte was gazing up at him.
She fought to control her breathing but could do nothing about the color in her cheeks. Her mouth felt dry and she wanted to lick her lips but did not want to be seen to be behaving coquettishly.
“There are many beautiful women in London. Am I so remarkable?”
Seth reached out to caress her cheek. Charlotte closed her eyes instinctively. The sensation of his touch was sheer bliss. After a second, she snapped them open again, realizing what she was doing.
He is Amelia’s fiancée, not mine! I cannot be enjoying his touch or even flirting with him. That is tantamount to adultery. And yet, to him, it is not because he believes me to be Amelia!
As she opened her eyes, she saw Seth leaning down to kiss her. She leaned back and overbalanced, tumbling off the divan. Seth caught her hand and, at the last moment, pulled her up. But Charlotte was in a state of panicked confusion now. She didn’t know if she should be encouraging him or keeping him at arm’s length. She wanted to enjoy all the intimacy that Amelia would, but knew that to be wrong. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.
Charlotte somehow contrived to kick him as he tried to pull her to her feet. One foot caught him in the midriff, and he staggered, breath leaving him in a rush.
“Oh my, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, horrified as she regained her balance.
Seth was doubled over, wheezing. When he finally straightened, she saw that he was laughing.
“You are a difficult woman to woo, Amelia,” he gasped hoarsely, “and you are by turns graceful as a swan and clumsy as an ox!”
Despite herself, Charlotte laughed too.
“You have a peculiar idea of wooing, Your Grace. Calling your betrothed an ox.”
