Charlotte clapped her hands. “A wonderful idea, but I hope we will be able to put in a small kitchen upstairs because making confectionery and beverages all in the back room might prove difficult, if the upstairs gets busy.”
“Whenit gets busy,” Felicity corrected.
Thank goodness her mother had embraced the expansion whole-heartedly!
An hour later, her parents had left, and Charlotte strolled around the drawing room, wishing she could concentrate on anything except the man who any moment —
“You’re here!” she said because Charles was standing in the doorway clearing his throat to get her attention.
“I am. And as usual, there was no Finley to greet me. Honestly Charlotte, I knocked, but anyone could have strolled in.”
“It’s really too bad,” she said. “We are so lax.” But she didn’t really care. Their neighborhood was safe, and normally one of them remembered to lock the front door.
“My parents are out,” she declared as he started toward her.
He froze in his tracks.
“They have gone to the shop together. We may have a dumb-waiter. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Is it?” he asked, looking around. “Where’s that infernal maid of yours who is always jabbering on when I’m trying to speak with you? The one who has her eye upon my perfectly happy coachman?” He sighed.
“Why aren’t you happy for them?” Charlotte asked.Didn’t he think servants should have love, too?
He shrugged. “What if she breaks his heart, and he decides to retire tomorrow?”
Rolling her eyes — because she knew Delia would never break anyone’s heart but was as caring as any person she’d ever met — Charlotte went to the door.
“Delia,” she called out. When there was no response, she gave a short, sharp whistle.
“Good God!” Charles exclaimed behind her. “We really must try that out at my country estate and see how many dogs you can round up.”
Delia came downstairs, and Charlotte addressed her.
“Lord Jeffcoat’s coachman is outside, and I have been told he’s very lonely.”
“Oh, we can’t have that. I’ll go see if he wants to come in for a cuppa or stay outside and chat.” Hefting her shawl around her, Delia disappeared out the front door.
When Charlotte turned, Charles was shaking her head. “That woman has no sense of duty. She didn’t even stick her head in here to give me a stern look and put me in my place. What if I had already removed my coat and even my cravat and was dancing a jig? Without my shoes!”
Clapping a hand to her mouth, Charlotte laughed hard. Still chuckling at the image of the viscount in such a silly state of undress, she sat on the sofa.
“Sit, Charles.”
“You said that as if I were a dog,” he complained. But he obeyed, and as she’d hoped, he gave up on the prim notion of sitting opposite and instead took a seat beside her.
And then, all laughter was whisked from her throat when he leaned closer and kissed her, entirely without warning or preamble.
Slanting his mouth, he firmly claimed hers beneath his. Raising her arms, she clasped her fingers behind his neck and let him push her back on the sofa.
“Charlotte,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Charles,” she said back.
“I’ve been going mad wanting to kiss you again.” He nibbled the edge of her mouth, making her body sizzle. “Having you in my arms last night with no way to hold you close was torture. Dancing was nothing less than a teasing torment.” And then the kiss deepened again.
Her stomach tightened, low between her hips when he swept his tongue between her lips.
“Mm,” she said, the way she would when eating a delectable sweet, for he was the most delectable man.
