“Hmm…” was Mr. Cooper’s response. He studied Charlotte with quiet interest, much like she imagined he’d ponder a new investment opportunity.
Increasingly vexed, Charlotte glared at her mother. If she’d been a main course, she would have been force fed to Mr. Cooper by now. What a sickening thing to acknowledge of one’s own parent.
“Mr. Wright has arrived,” Everet, the butler, intoned from the doorway.
The mere mention of that one particular name caused a leap of delight within Charlotte’s breast. She straightened her posture, then spoke to the servant before her mother or father did something horrid like ask Everet to turn Mr. MacNeil away – an option she wouldn’t put past them. “Do show him in.”
Six o’clock on the dot, she noted while sending her father a smug look of satisfaction. Lord Elkins scowled with distinct displeasure and Charlotte returned her attention to the door. One moment later, the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on appeared. Her mouth fell open. She carefully rose to her feet while clutching the armrest. Good heavens. It couldn’t be. And yet it most certainly was. Clean shaven and with his hair trimmed in a manner that still left a few stray locks falling over his brow with roguish abandon, he didn’t look the least bit out of place in the parlor.
Unlike Charlotte’s father and Mr. Cooper, who both wore evening black, Mr. MacNeil had elected to wear a midnight blue jacket with trousers to match, and a beige waistcoat. In Charlotte’s opinion, he looked divine.
“Mr. Wright.” His name whispered past her lips in pure astonishment. The transformation he’d made was nothing short of remarkable. Not that she’d been averse to his more rugged looks, but this…this was something so much…more.
“Lady Elkins. Lord Elkins.” Mr. MacNeil’s voice carried in even tones with only a hint of the brogue she’d become so accustomed to. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. And you must be Mr. Cooper?” He gave Mr. Cooper a swift once over before allowing his warm gaze to settle on Charlotte. The edge of his mouth curved in an almost secretive sort of way that sent tiny tingles scattering over her skin. “Miss Russell.”
Striding toward her as if it were just the two of them in the room, as if she were the only woman to ever capture his interest, he closed the distance between them and presented the flowers he’d brought. With her heart beating wildly against her breast, Charlotte accepted the offering – a lovely and most untraditional collection of fragrant pink peonies, blue hydrangeas and bright yellow sunflowers.
“Too much?” Mr. MacNeil murmured so low only she would hear.
“Not at all,” she whispered back, her voice more shaky than she would have liked. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
His smile widened until she felt slightly giddy. And then he winked, leaving her in a state so wobbly she had no choice but to sink back onto her seat. She took a deep breath while Mr. MacNeil addressed Mr. Cooper. “I gather you’re in the steel business?”
“May I offer you a drink, sir?” Everet inquired, breaking into the midst of the conversation with almost invisible delicacy.
“A brandy would be nice,” Mr. MacNeil responded. He kept his attention on Mr. Cooper while Everet saw to his request. “With the high cost of blister steel production taken into account, I’ll assume you’re using puddling furnaces rather than cementation?”
Charlotte blinked. Who was this person and what on earth was he going on about? She glanced at her parents who appeared equally baffled.
Mr. Cooper however responded with undeniable pleasure. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about the industry.”
Accepting his drink from Everet with a distinct, “Thank you,” Mr. MacNeil took a quick sip and smiled. “I like to stay abreast of important matters.”
“I must say, I applaud you,” Mr. Cooper said. “Tell me, what do you do for a living?”
Lady Elkins coughed while Lord Elkins made some sort of non-distinct sound. Charlotte simply grinned. Oh, this was good. An outspoken American ignorant of the conversational subjects taboo amid the upper classes, and a tavern owner she’d paid to play her fiancé. The evening was certainly off to an excellent start.
“I’m in the alcohol business,” Mr. MacNeil explained. “Beer and wine mostly.”
“When we last met you told us you worked for the home office.” Papa narrowed his gaze like a jungle cat ready to move in for the kill.
“If you’ll recall,” Mr. MacNeil said, “I also mentioned being an entrepreneur. The Home Office venture is only an occasional stint, and with my most recent assignment now completed, I am once again free to be myself.”
“Really?” Papa did not look the least bit convinced. Or pleased.
“How exciting,” Mr. Cooper said. “I can’t wait to hear more about the two different lives you lead, Mr. Wright.”
Charlotte bit her lip. Perhaps she should go find a maid who could put her flowers in water before she ruined everything by erupting in a fit of laughter. Rising, she tested her legs, and finding them sturdy enough, she exited the room while Mr. MacNeil began delving into soil compositions and how this affected the flavor of grapes. By the time she returned, the incredible man had even managed to engage her mother by explaining to her why the port she preferred was sweeter than wine.
“If you please,” Everet intoned when a moment of silence arose in the conversation, “dinner is ready.”
“Shall we?” Charlotte’s father suggested. He’d already risen and was gesturing toward the door leading into the dining room.
Everyone else got up as well and Mr. MacNeil, the sneaky fellow, was swiftly by Charlotte’s side. He offered his arm with the gallantry one would expect from a duke. “Allow me to escort you, Miss Russell.”
Swallowing, she ignored her mother’s frown and the fact that it might be wrong to openly favor one gentleman over the other, but dash it all, she wanted the nearness, the contact and the feel of that sturdy forearm beneath her gloved hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, she complied, and was instantly overcome by a fluttery feeling deep in her belly.
Careful now.
