“That is not how your voice sounded to me, at least,” he said.
Charlotte opened her mouth. Then closed it again. Because horrifyingly enough, she realized he might be right. Victor settled back into his chair, looking far too satisfied with himself.
Charlotte faced the stage once more in desperate need of composure, though she could scarcely focus upon the performance now. Her neck still tingled where he kissed her. Worse still, she could practically feel his amusement radiating beside her.
This man will absolutely destroy my sanity.
After several moments of silence, Victor leaned toward her once more. Charlotte tensed immediately. His mouth curved faintly near her ear. “Next time,” he murmured smoothly, “do not become so curious about what a rake does.”
Charlotte refused to look at him again for the remainder of the act.
Mostly because I fear I may kiss him if I look.
CHAPTER 12
What am I doing here?
Victor had not intended to go to the Vauxhall pleasure gardens. That was the irritating truth of it.
After the opera, after Charlotte’s flushed cheeks and furious eyes and scandalously soft mouth lingering far too vividly in his thoughts, Victor had attempted to bury himself in work. Unfortunately, every ledger on his desk had begun transforming into recollections of Charlotte glaring at him whilst breathless from his kisses.
It was intolerable… especially since she was in the same house. I had to get out.
Thus, several hours later, he found himself striding through the crowded entrance of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens beside Morgan Harding, the Marquess of Whitemore, who looked entirely too delighted with life.
“You look foul,” Morgan announced cheerfully.
Victor adjusted the cuffs of his dark evening coat. “And yet you still invited yourself along.”
“Of course I did,” Morgan replied. “Misery is far more entertaining when shared.”
Victor snorted softly as they entered the gardens proper.
Vauxhall glittered magnificently beneath hundreds of hanging lanterns suspended through the trees like fallen stars. Music drifted through the warm evening air while elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen wandered the gravel paths, laughing over wine and supper.
Performers sang upon illuminated stages, servants hurried through the crowds carrying trays of drinks, and somewhere nearby, a woman shrieked with laughter loud enough to frighten birds from the trees.
Morgan inhaled deeply. “Ah. Sin and poor decisions.”
“You say that as though it were poetry,” Victor scoffed.
“It is poetry, my kind of poetry. I've missed our entertaining outings. In fact, I have not seen much of you at all at the card tables,” Morgan said.
“I have not had the taste for it lately, but tonight I remedy that,” Victor replied with a smirk that Morgan approved of as he patted Victor on the back.
Victor followed him through the bustling crowd toward a quieter table near one of the pavilions. Couples danced nearby while musicians played lively tunes beneath glowing lantern light, and the scent of wine, roses, and summer air mingled pleasantly together.
Morgan dropped into his chair. “Now then. Explain why all of London believes you are engaged.”
Victor accepted the glass of brandy that a passing servant handed him. “Because society lacks intelligence.”
Morgan barked out a laugh. “That is the truth of it. But, truly…why?”
Victor took a long drink first. “My grandmother mistakenly introduced Miss Brown as my betrothed during a promenade.”
“And now?” Morgan asked as he took a sip.
“And now apparently the entirety of the ton has lost its collective mind,” Victor said.
