A thief of his mind and all his ration and reason, yes. Absolutely.
“No, I was merely using the analogy to carefully illustrate my point, Lady Charity.”
“Meet me in the library in two hours,” she ordered him. “I shall bring my cream.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” he denied, even as his foolish pulse leapt at the notion of seeing her again so soon.
And of possibly being alone.
All the more reason to avoid such a catastrophe altogether.
“Two hours, Wilty.” She waggled her fingers just as she had done that day in the picture gallery. “Do not be tardy.”
Chapter 4
Viscount Wilton was going to leave her standing here alone in the library, clutching the pot of the cold cream her lady’s maid used for various means, including cleansing and soothing irritated skin. The rose and orange water never failed to leave Charity feeling refreshed and smelling lovely, and she had no doubt it would have done wonders for his poor chin and upper lip.
Lady Perfect’s Cold Cream, which had been developed by Lady Shelbourne and had begun by selling in America, had become all the rage in London. Charity was eternally grateful her enterprising lady’s maid had managed to secure her several pots of the scarce cream, which was not easy to be had on account of its popularity.
And she had been willing to share it.
With an undeserving, handsome killjoy of a viscount whose kisses were nothing short of deliciously sinful.
Thankfully, she was alone, none of her fellow guests or friends to witness her folly. She had chosen the time of their meeting with care, just when the house party would be retiring to prepare for dinner. No chance of any interruptions, one would hope. It would not do to be caught alone with any gentleman at this house party, and most especially not Viscount Wilton. Her dear friend Clementine may have found herself in a compromising position with her betrothed the Marquess of Dorset, but Charity had absolutely no intention of allowing herself to be forced into marriage.
She had plans. Plans which decidedly did not include finding herself cozened into an unwanted, untenable society union with a dreadfully dull lord.
He did not seem so dull when his tongue was in my mouth.
Wretched thought! She was made of sterner stuff.
She paced the length of the library once more, attempting to distract herself by enjoying the view over the Fangfoss Manor park, visible through the windows. Not only was there no chance of interruptions, but there also appeared to be no chance of Lord Wilton arriving to accept her offer either.
Oh, why had she chosen to offer this olive branch? Two hours—and counting—later, removed from his magnetism and the joy that had overcome her at knowing the man who had kissed her senseless had recognized her and was not attempting to marry her dear friend, and she could not arrive at a suitable answer to her own question. It had been foolishness. The summer sun. Her bruised pride.
Because I wanted to see him again, preferably alone.
No!Strike that. Wilton was not for her, regardless of how wonderfully he kissed. No man was for her. Nor was marriage. She had many adventures with Auntie Louise awaiting her.
“You seem agitated.”
The low voice behind her had Charity wheeling about with a squeak in her throat. She pressed a hand to her madly thumping heart.
Wilton had come.
His hat was gone, leaving the golden waves of his hair available for her admiration. He moved with an easy grace that belied his height and his occasional tendency toward pomposity as well. Yet there remained something so intriguingly guarded about him. She wished she would not find him so curiously compelling.
“I was growing tired of waiting,” she told him, hoping he had not heard the squeak she had emitted.
“You sounded rather like a mouse just now. I do not suppose you were loud enough to bring the entire household upon us, but your fright was deuced inconvenient.”
Well, then. So much for that hope.
“You gave me a start.”
His brow rose in haughty fashion. “You asked me to meet you here. Had you forgotten?”
“Of course not.” Truly, the man was utterly vexing. “I was merely distracted and you took me by surprise.” She held up the pot of cold cream. “Why should I be carrying this about otherwise?”
