Page 62 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“And did you want him to argue with you? Waste valuable time?” Georgie stared her, frowning. “He probably knew he couldn’t stop you anyway. Perhaps he’s accepted that you are capable of making your own decisions.”

“Perhaps.” Charlotte couldn’t decide how that sat with her. A fine line existed between having her wishes respected and having her welfare in mind. She straightened her dress and put her shoulders back. It shouldn’t concern her, really, whether Nash wanted to protect her or not. Nothing could come of their friendship, but as long as he respected her as a landowner, they’d get along fine.

“Shall we have our tea in the drawing room?” The after-dinner ritual seemed a godsend to Charlotte, who was ready to change the subject.

Georgina nodded and they removed there, chatting about the newest blend of tea Charlotte had brought from London. She’d bought a dozen or so samples so she could include Georgie in deciding which one she favored best. They had been trying a new one every few days since her return.

“I quite enjoyed the last one, Charlotte. Very light and delicate. Is it the Assam?”

Charlotte shook her head. “That was the day before. Remember, it had malty hints to it? And I said—”

“That it tasted a bit like Wrotham ale.” Georgie giggled. “Yes. So what was the one yesterday? I found it very refreshing.”

“Darjeeling. From India.” Charlotte sighed. The name Wrotham seemed to be everywhere today.

“ Well, then, if you do not choose it to be your particular blend, perhaps I will be able to eventually.” Georgina sat in her favorite chair before the fire as Charlotte rang and ordered tea.

“The one we’re having today is very different from the others I purchased. A smoky blend called lapsang souchang. More of a masculine tea, I think, but I particularly liked the fragrance of it in the shop. If you do not care for it, we can order some of yesterday’s for you.”

Charlotte sank onto the Queen Anne chair and surveyed the cozy room. “I loved seeing Jane again, but I do love being home as well.” Her gaze fell on the Adams mantelpiece and her brow wrinkled. “It suddenly occurs to me that I still have not heard anything from Edgar. I would have wagered he’d be down here demanding his furniture back before now.”

“Oh, I had a letter from Jemmy last week in which he mentioned Sir Edgar. Let me run get it.” Georgina rose and hurried from the room. Charlotte relaxed against the back of the chair and stared idly into the fireplace. Perhaps Georgie’s letter held an explanation for Edgar’s absence. God knew she didn’t want to see her stepson, but neither did she want to be surprised by his unexpected arrival.

Charlotte closed her eyes, the warmth of the flames relaxing her at last. Well, she’d had quite a day, hadn’t she? She’d rest her eyes until Georgie returned.

A warm touch on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and widened to find Lord Wrotham bending over her.

“Nash?” She struggled to sit up. She must have fallen asleep and slid down in the chair. How embarrassing. “Why weren’t you announced?”

His eyes twinkled. “When Fisk opened the doors and you sat here so charmingly in repose, I asked him not to wake you.” He sat opposite her on the sofa. “Your tea arrived, and though I thought I’d let you sleep for a bit, I couldn’t resist your rosy cheek.”

“Hmm.” Charlotte fought the urge to yawn. “You seem to have little resistance indeed.”

“To you, Charlotte? None whatsoever.” He grinned at her, so bold and unrepentant she had to chuckle.

“You would say such lack of restraint in a woman foretold a wanton life.”

“So it is extremely fortunate that I am a man and can withstand such slanders upon my person,” he replied with a droll twist of his mouth.

He would have her laughing outright in a moment.

“Goodness, Nash.” Charlotte glanced around. “Have you seen Georgie? She went to get a letter.” She poured the fragrant tea, hoping it hadn’t cooled too much. “How long have you been here?”

“Only a few minutes. And no, I’ve not seen Georgina. I stopped in—”

“Here it is, Charlotte. Oh!” Georgie burst into the room and skidded to a stop. “Nash.” Her eyes widened. “H . . . how nice to see you again.” She looked from Charlotte to Nash and back again and sat abruptly.

Nash stood and bowed. “Georgina. The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled, and Charlotte could have sworn he winked at Georgie. Was something going on between the two of them? Georgie had said she’d refused his proposal, but their behavior suggested something was afoot. Her heart stuttered and she ruthlessly ignored it. She had closed that avenue. Determinedly, she poured a cup of tea and handed it to Georgina.

“I had stopped in, ladies, to make sure you have had no ill effects from your ordeal, Charlotte.” He peered at her, looking her up and down as he would a horse he thought to buy. “And to give you the latest news on your estate manager.”

At the mention of Courtland, all other thoughts fled. “Oh, please, Nash. Tell me how he is.”

“Better than expected, thank goodness.” Nash settled back onto the sofa. “Mr. Putnam has dressed his wounds. The worst of it, of course, is the gunshot. The hole goes all the way through his shoulder—a blessing, actually—although cleaning it pained Mr. Courtland sorely.” Nash shook his head. “It will be touch and go for several days. Fortunately, I managed to keep Putnam from bleeding him. He’d actually brought the leeches with him.”

Charlotte grimaced and Georgie shuddered.

“I was hard pressed to keep him from what he considered his duty. If we can keep the leeches at bay, your manager resting, and make sure he takes his medicine, I’d say he has a good chance.”