After a weighted silence, he finally cleared his throat with a rough, gravelly sound that touched on her nerves in an extremely unwelcome way. She had to fight the urge to turnand look at him. She wouldnotgive him the honor of her full attention.
“I can see how my reaction might have offended. I regret how I reacted to your…unfortunate loss of balance,” he stated curtly. “My words were not intended to be spoken aloud. I’m afraid my thoughts were occupied by a personal matter and my frustration overthatissue unfairly colored my response in that moment.”
Charlotte huffed. “Which simply means that in your distraction you failed to cover your true nature with false niceties. Your behavior that night simply revealed that at your core, Lord Redington, you are entitled, arrogant, and rude.”
He tensed sharply. “That’s a harsh judgment to make from one single encounter.”
“Some things simply don’t require deliberation.”
There was a thoughtful pause during which Charlotte almost tipped her head to peer up at him from beneath the edge of her bonnet. But then he shifted his weight, the subtle movement igniting awareness beneath her skin. She drew a swift inhale as he leaned toward her.
“You are fortunate to have such a firm conviction. Dislike me if you must, Miss Dickson, but if you think you know anything about me—at my core or otherwise—you’d be wrong.”
The tension in his tone finally had her turning to look at him. Though he stood rather close at her side, his hard, dark stare was angled in the direction of his sister and cousins.
It appeared that Lady Eleanor and Viscount Waring’s private moment had devolved into a bit of an argument. They stood far enough away that their words couldn’t be heard, and though they didn’t appear particularly at odds, there was something subtly…passionate in how they were conversing.
When Charlotte shifted her attention back to the marquess, she noted the shadows of concern and wariness weighing downhis handsome features. The muscles of his jaw bunched and released as he took a step forward.
Without thinking, Charlotte reached out to grasp his forearm to stop him. “Leave it for a moment.”
The marquess tensed sharply beneath her hand as he shot her a swift, angled look.
“Your sister is managing him well enough on her own. Look,” she added with a tip of her head.
The marquess did as she suggested, glancing back to the couple.
Waring pushed his hands back through his tousled hair in a show of silent exasperation as Lady Eleanor lowered her chin to hide an obvious grin of satisfaction.
“I do believe your sister came out the victor in whatever squabble they were having.”
“They shouldn’t be having a squabble at all,” Redington muttered thickly. “They shouldn’t even be speaking in such a private manner.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Private? They are standing in full view of everyone in the park. Their conversation is no more private than ours.”
The ripple of tension that ran through him at that comment reverberated through her body, reminding her that she still held firmly to his muscled forearm. His jaw clenched and she wasn’t quite certain if it was in reaction to what she’d said or to her continued touch.
Releasing him, Charlotte observed Lady Eleanor as she rejoined the other young ladies and the viscount stepped up to his sister to whisper something to her before striding swiftly away. She also noted how Lady Eleanor followed his long strides with a dark and thoughtful stare.
Charlotte smiled. “I believe your sister may be smitten.”
“With Waring? Not acceptable.”
“Why not?” she challenged. “What’s wrong with the viscount? I find him rather dashing.”
“And reckless and irresponsible,” the marquess countered. “He’s never in England for more than a few weeks at a time before he rushes off on some adventure overseas. He’d be a perpetually absent husband and father.” His voice dropped as he added firmly, “Eleanor deserves better.”
Charlotte glanced at him in surprise. “You actually care about her happiness.”
He grunted. “Of course.” Then he sighed—a long-suffering sound—as his dark stare narrowed again on the young ladies.
It appeared that a new trio of young bucks had approached them with felicitations and a round of pretty compliments. Charlotte could hear only a bit of the profuse flattery the enthusiastic suitors were employing, but it sounded harmless enough. In truth, Lady Eleanor appeared not at all impressed as she mainly kept her gaze averted from the gentlemen. Lady Lydia, on the other hand, looked positively put out by the attention and Lady Delia simply appeared overwhelmed as she did her best to respond with modest appreciation. Luckily, Miss Bridget was there to field the many flirtatious smiles and witty quips with a wealth of her own.
“I must—”
Once again, Charlotte stopped the marquess with a hand on his arm. “You must not. They are only talking, my lord. The gentlemen are being properly polite. There is no reason for concern. This is why they are here, is it not? To make new acquaintances and socialize and flirt, all within the accepted boundaries of proper decorum.”
He scowled, keeping his gaze intently upon his young charges. “Bridget will get herself in trouble one day,” he muttered.
