But . . . certainly there was more at play here than mere gravity.
He didn’t know.
No woman had ever seized the initiative and kissed him first.
Was she simply bored and curious and his lips were convenient?
Or did she like him asmorethan a distant cousin?
He wished to ask Lottie about it, but her blush and discomfort had been so acute as she apologized, he couldn’t bring himself to linger on the subject.
Unfortunately, the problem-solving portion of his brain was rather desperate to sort the puzzle.
And if his current torment was akin to how a woman felt after a man kissed her, he had been doing the female population a terrible disservice. It was rather unnerving, on the whole.
Naturally, another question lingered—
Did he wish to kiss her again?
Och!
Was the sky blue? Was the pope Catholic?
Of course!
O’course, he wanted to kiss her again.
What red-blooded male subject of King George wouldnotwant to kiss a lass as lovely as Lady Charlotte Whitaker?
But . . .
. . . wouldhe kiss her again?
That seemed unlikely.
Kissing Cousin Lottie was a complication that he simply could not allow.
As a gentleman, kissing a woman led to commitment.
But Lady Charlotte was a marquess’s daughter. And the daughter of a marquess would not marry a Scottish physician.
The reasons were legion.
Alex’s life in Edinburgh was spartan compared to the luxury of Frome Abbey. Moreover, as a lowly physician’s wife, Lady Charlotte would no longer be received in London society. She would be cut off from friends and family. And Lady Charlotte had proven with her first broken engagement that she would not contemplate marriage to a man who would come between her and her family.
Of course, if you became the marquess, many of these problems would evaporate.
Alex pushed the idea aside.
No.
He would not assume the marquisate to woo a woman. No matter how much he liked the lady. No matter how egalitarian and accommodating she might be.
Besides, were he to claim the marquisate, Lady Charlotte would be devastated. She would still reject his suit, as she wished the title to go to her nephew.
So . . . no.
There would be no more kisses.
