Michael smiled at her. She had to keep her head on today. Last night, she was mad, just as he was. She remembered some of the things she’d said and blushed to her roots at her boldness.
They’d kissed by her door for hours. He was patient with her and visibly happy to hear when she admitted she hadn’t kissed many men.
They had spoken a little about Preston, but she stopped before he began to brood. Michael didn’t like hearing about him. He was jealous. She smiled thinking of it but, in truth, she was worried sick. Whatever would she do about her childhood friend? Was Preston in love with her? And was she with him? She’d never questioned it before because there hadn’t been anyone in her life to make her question anything. But Michael made her stop and think about the time she was wasting with Preston. She wasn’t getting any younger. She’d thought Preston would marry her when Lord Adere had asked for her hand. But he had done nothing. He had been willing to let another man take her. At times, he seemed more interested in how much money she could make him than in her. And Amanda. What were his intentions toward Amanda? She had to know, and she would find out today.
“What are your plans for today?” her father asked as if reading her thoughts. She looked up from her bowl. He was speaking to Michael. Not her.
“I’m escorting your daughter to Sutton so she can visit with the baron,” Michael answered.
“Viscount,” Charlotte corrected.
He squinted his eyes on her just a bit. Enough for her to understand that he didn’t like her correction because he didn’t give a damn about Preston’s title. She tilted her mouth up at one end. She liked the small flares of his temper that his eyes could not conceal from her.
“Viscount,” he muttered to her father. “And then, unless we are attacked again on the road—”
“No,” her father interrupted. “I do not want Charlotte with Preston Bristol. The visit is no longer part of your plan.” He lifted his cup to his mouth and drank.
“’Tis part of my plan and I’m going,” Charlotte told him, setting down her knife and fork.
“No. You are not,” he argued.
“My lord,” Michael appealed, “we both know she’ll go whether I escort her or not. I want to protect her. I can’t do that if she runs off when I’m not with her.”
Her father stared at her. Michael was correct. She would go with or without him.
“I’ll keep her safe in the forest,” he promised.
“All right then,” her father relented, giving Michael a hard stare, and then aiming it at her. “Do not let trouble find you, Daughter.”
She nodded. She didn’t tell him that Michael was going to leave her alone with Preston and wait for her in a nearby village. Michael didn’t tell him either.
They set out a short time later, packing midday meals to eat upon her return.
“Thank you for not telling my father about leaving me alone with Preston.”
“Are you certain you’re safe with him?”
“Preston? Of course. He has been my friend for a long time. Do not worry.”
“Does your mother not sit at your table?” he asked a little later, on their way to Sutton.
“Hardly,” she told him, keeping her horse at a slow pace with his. “She was not around much. Rosie used to stand behind me as Old John stands behind my father. She took care of me. She raised me until I was eleven.”
“I would like to meet her,” he said with a smile.
“Michael?” Perhaps she was mad. She had the urge to laugh. “Let us go visit Rosie instead of Preston.”
His smile widened. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. She was very sure. Preston would be fine. Rosie was another matter.
She told Michael where to go while butterflies awakened inside her at the thought, even the faintest one, of Michael wanting to meet Rosie. “She will like you.”
“How do you know?” he asked playfully.
“You are handsome and tall, strong and well-mannered—and you are not Preston.”
“No one in your life seems to like him,” he pointed out, as if she did not already know. “Why is that—besides the obvious, I mean?”
