Without even thinking, Blayne snatched up an empty coffee cup and hurled it directly at Claus’s head. Claus caught the projectile with ease, his ensuing laughter so raucous it stayed in the air for a good while after he’d taken his leave.
“Idiot,” Blayne muttered, only to wonder if the word might not be better suited to himself when he glanced at the clock an hour later and realized he’d just been sitting there, unable to focus on his work because of the female who’d taken up residence in his head.
All the more reason to end their arrangement before it began in earnest. Today he’d been taken off guard, which was something he never allowed to happen. But damn if the feisty little vixen hadn’t convinced him to agree to something he would have walked away from right away if he’d been given a moment to think. Tomorrow he’d be more prepared because he’d know what to expect. And there was no way in hell he’d let her talk him into keeping the job he’d accepted.
No, it was time to show Miss Russell exactly who she was dealing with. Not some Mayfair dandy she could talk circles around until he submitted to her way of thinking, but a hardened criminal who’d watched the life seep out of men’s eyes while he shoved a blade through their hearts.
2
When Charlotte arrived at breakfast the following morning, the tension filling the air was thick, like an early morning fog. She glanced around. Nothing was out of place, but her parents weren’t exchanging a single word with each other. Not that they were especially chatty in general, but Papa would often remark on the news he read in the paper while Mama made non-committal responses.
Today they silently watched Charlotte’s every move as she entered the room and proceeded toward the table. Reaching her chair, she offered her parents a smile and took a seat. “Good morning.”
Her father, Viscount Elkins, tapped the top of his soft-boiled egg with his spoon while pressing his lips together as if to hide a wide grin. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m glad. Very pleased to hear it.” Papa cleared his throat. He cast a glance at his wife and…
Was that a flicker of eager anticipation Charlotte spied in his eyes? She frowned. As the sort of man who’d always prided himself on his stoic self-control, few things caused him to give away any hint of emotion.
Nerves on instant alert, Charlotte poured herself a cup of tea. She had a dreadful feeling she’d need the soothing drink to calm herself very soon.
“You do look well rested,” Charlotte’s mother said. “Which is wonderful to see.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Mama?”
“Yes, dear?”
“What’s going on?”
“Well. Um.” Her mother’s lips almost trembled with the effort it seemed to take for her not to break into a wide grin. “It’s just that I’m sure your fresh-faced appearance is bound to please Mr. Cooper.”
Certain her morning was about to take an immediate descent into hell, Charlotte took a deep breath and said, “Whoever this Mr. Cooper may happen to be, I don’t see why his opinion of me ought to matter.”
“Oh,” Mama said with a start. Her eyes twinkled. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte, but it seems my excitement has gotten away from me. You see, Mr. Cooper is an American businessman, the owner of the steelworks company your father has been investing in for the past three years, and—”
“Mr. Cooper and I have been enjoying an interesting correspondence of late,” Papa said, taking over. “In fact, I’d like to say we’ve become good friends. He’s truly a remarkable man. Fine fellow. Wealthy of course, with an excellent head for business on his shoulders.Andhe just happens to be in the market for a wife.”
“Oh no,” Charlotte murmured.
“Naturally I mentioned you since Americans do seem to find prestige in marrying into the British peerage. As a viscount’s daughter, you’d be the perfect fit.”
Charlotte groaned. “Perhaps if I were seven years younger.”
“A minor detail,” Mama said with the widest grin Charlotte had ever seen on her face. “The thing of note is that Mr. Cooper is presently on his way here to meet you.”
“According to the letter we received from him this morning,” Papa declared as if he were handing out a prize, “he ought to arrive on Tuesday.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” Mama was almost bouncing in her seat like a toddler about to be served her favorite dessert. “Just when we thought you’d never marry, a potential suitor fills us with hope. I can scarcely believe your luck.”
Neither could Charlotte. She’d had everything worked out – her entire future planned in her head. She’d pursue her writing, amass a small fortune, buy a home for herself in the countryside, and create a retreat for likeminded women who wished to avoid the bonds of marriage in favor of enriching their lives with art and culture. Not once had any of her imaginings included a husband. Indeed, a husband would ruin everything.
“He’ll want me to go to America with him,” she said, horrified by the notion.
“Naturally, my dear,” Mama said without any hint of remorse over having to send her daughter halfway across the world.
Charlotte’s mind whirled, frantically seeking a way to escape what was rapidly turning into a real catastrophe. “You should have consulted me first.”
