“And you are far too trusting.”
She frowned up at him. “You truly think so poorly of your friend?”
“No.” Victor hesitated briefly. “I simply know him well.”
Charlotte studied him curiously for a moment before speaking softer this time. “Morgan was perfectly gentlemanly with me.”
Victor disliked hearing that enormously. “He flirted with you.”
Charlotte stared at him in disbelief before a sudden understanding crossed her face. “Are you jealous?”
Victor nearly stumbled mid-step. “Do not be absurd.”
Her lips twitched. “You are. You dragged me away from him like an angry husband.”
Victor’s grip at her waist tightened instinctively. “You forget yourself.”
“And you avoid the question.”
Victor lowered his voice dangerously. “Charlotte.”
That should have warned her to stop. Instead, infuriating woman that she was, amusement danced openly across her features.
“Oh dear,” she said softly. “You are jealous.”
“I am protective,” he said.
“Of your grandmother’s companion?”
“Of my pretend fiancée causing gossip,” he said. He knew that he was mixing words to try to come up with any excuse. Anything but jealousy.
Charlotte laughed quietly, and the sound curled strangely through Victor’s chest. Victor stared down at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes beneath the ballroom candles. For one reckless moment, he forgot entirely where they were. He only noticed the curve of her mouth and the warmth of her body pressed near his own.
Then Charlotte looked up at him fully. The teasing faded from her expression first. Victor’s pulse thudded once, hard.
Damn it all.
He was grateful the dance ended before he could do something catastrophically foolish in front of half the ton.
“You should avoid Morgan for the remainder of the evening, I demand it,” he muttered.
Charlotte blinked in surprise before laughter burst from her again. “Demand it? You truly are impossible.”
Victor offered her a cool look while privately acknowledging something deeply unpleasant.
If Morgan Harding, or any other man in this ballroom, kisses Charlotte Brown tonight, I might genuinely commit murder.
CHAPTER 17
Charlotte curtsied automatically, though her pulse still fluttered wildly beneath her ribs. Victor took her hand at once and began escorting her from the dance floor before another gentleman could approach. Charlotte glanced sideways at him as they moved through the crowded ballroom.
“You appear displeased, Your Grace.”
Victor’s gaze flicked toward her coolly. “I find it interesting that ever since your sisters became fashionable prospects, you suddenly permit gentlemen to court your attention.”
Charlotte blinked. “Court my attention?”
“Morgan Harding was practically composing sonnets to your lashes.”
