Victor watched her closely. “Do you like it?”
Like it?
Charlotte could scarcely stop staring. “It is beautiful,” she admitted softly.
Victor leaned one shoulder casually against the desk. “Good.”
She carefully touched the silk with hesitant fingers. “What is it for?”
“My grandmother wishes to attend the opera,” Victor explained. “You shall accompany us.”
Charlotte looked up immediately. “Truly?”
“Yes.”
“And… the misunderstanding?” she asked.
Victor nodded once. “The opera is precisely the sort of event where news travels quickly. We shall appear together publicly and clarify matters before the entire ton invents wedding invitations.”
Charlotte laughed despite herself. “I fear that may already be occurring somewhere.”
“Perhaps, but we must stop it,” he said.
She looked once more at the gown. “You purchased this for me?”
Victor shrugged lightly. “None of your country gowns would survive the opera.”
Charlotte gasped softly. “That is rude.”
“It is honest,” he said.
She ought to have been offended. Instead, she found herself smiling.
Infuriating man.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For the gown… and for inviting me.”
Victor’s expression shifted slightly at her gratitude. “You have attended the opera before?”
“Only once,” Charlotte admitted. “Years ago.”
“And did you enjoy it?” he asked.
“I spent most of the evening terrified I might sneeze at the wrong moment.”
Victor actually laughed quietly. The sound startled her. It transformed him entirely when he laughed genuinely rather than offering those sharp, calculating smiles he wore like armour. Charlotte’s attention drifted downward before she could stop herself.
To his mouth…. A mistake.
Victor noticed immediately.
Of course, he noticed immediately.
Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer. Charlotte’s pulse quickened at once.
“You are staring again,” he murmured.
“I was not,” she said.
