“Only if he turns out to not be a serial killer.” I smiled sweetly, my head shaking until both of us dissolved into fits of laughter.
I didn’t even want to know how Stella had come across this guy or how she’d convinced him to go on a blind date. My friend was as free-spirited as they came and just as persistent. All of which made me love her, but not everybody did.
After promising her I would think about it, I asked about her art class and she spent the rest of lunch raving about all the things she was learning. I was happy to just listen, vicariously exploring my creative side through her.
When I got home later that afternoon, the last thing I expected was to findGregorysitting in our living room. He looked completely at ease, one arm slung casually over the back of the couch. His tailored navy jacket fit him like it had been sewn together directly around his body.
My father was nowhere in sight, so it was just him, looking up at me with that dashing grin that could probably charm the frost off a snowman. When he saw me, he stood smoothly and spoke in a cultured voice that made me think of gray British skies and porcelain teacups. “Charlotte, how lovely to see you again.”
“You too,” I said, shaking his hand. His palm was warm, but disappointingly, I didn’t feel that same giddiness I had when he’d kissed my hand before. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“Your father invited me,” he said easily. “He wanted to show me some of the art in your family’s collection. You have a beautiful home, by the way. It’s got so much character. It’s very American Gilded Age.”
“Which I think means that it’s old,” I teased, and he laughed, stepping aside to let me sit. “You must be used to old buildings though, being from jolly old England and all. Where, uh, where exactly are you from?”
“London,” he said, settling beside me. “It does mean that it’s old, but in that romantic way.”
“Then I’ll take it as a compliment.”
He chuckled. “It was meant to be one.”
I turned to him, deciding that I might as well take this opportunity to get to the know the handsome… not prince. Viscount. Lord? I had no idea.
“How are you liking Chicago so far?” I asked. “Do you miss home?”
He shrugged. “London has its charm, of course, but nothing is quite like Chicago in summer. The lake. The skyline. The wind.”
“The humidity,” I added, wrinkling my nose. “You must be loving that.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiled faintly. “My hair doesn’t stand a chance.”
I laughed. The guy’s hair was perfect in an effortless way. It looked better than mine, if I was being honest.
He looked into my eyes for a beat longer than was polite, his honey-hued irises bright and assessing. “How about you? What do you do with yourself all day, Charlotte Westwood?”
The question caught me off guard. No one ever asked it quite like that. Most people assumed they already knew, or they just didn’t care.
“I, uh, I volunteer,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “With a few youth organizations in the city. I mentor girls, mostly middle and high schoolers, through a Big Sister program. We do fundraisers, events, even field trips sometimes.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s adorable.”
“Adorable?” I repeated, arching a brow.
“What I meant is that it’s sweet.” His mouth curved into a smile that made me wonder if he was teasing me or waiting for me to tell him I was kidding. When he seemed to realize I was serious, he cleared his throat. “Charity work suits you. I just assumed you were involved in your family’s company.”
“I’m not,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I’d realized they would. “Boardrooms and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
Gregory chuckled. “Well, I suppose that’s more of a man’s world in any event.”
A man’s world? Wow. Aurelia, Harrison’s wife, was absolutely killing it in thatman’s world. Laney owned a booming company specializing in baby goods and services. Sadie’s foundation was growing by leaps and bounds.
And hell, those were just my cousins’ wives. I knew a dozen other women I could throw in his face right then. The patriarchy might be very and alive in some places, but not in any of the circles I traveled. Not being involved in W&S was my choice. Acquisitions bored the crap out of me.
Before I could respond, my father’s voice echoed from the hall. “Gregory! Are you ready?”
He stood up immediately, buttoning his jacket with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Always, sir.” When he turned backto me once he’d reached the door, the corners of his mouth softened. “We’ll have to finish this another time.”
“Sure,” I said, forcing a polite smile.
