Lady Whistledown Strikes Back (29 page)

“Charlotte?” Her mother’s knock sounded softly against the closed door.

“Come in.”

The baroness entered the room, closing the door behind her, then strolled over to take a seat at Charlotte’s dressing table. She didn’t look angry, but Charlotte kept silent, anyway. She certainly didn’t want to precipitate another confrontation.

“I had a letter from Helen yesterday,” her mother said.

“Good. How are she and Fenton and the children?”

“All doing well. She hopes to come to Town next month, though they won’t be able to remain long.”

“It’ll be nice to see her again.”

Lady Birling nodded. “She was twelve when Sophia broke with Easterly, you know.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“But since she and Fenton had been promised to one another since her second birthday, we weren’t worried about the scandal damaging her hopes in Society.”

“And I wasn’t promised to anyone.”

“No, you weren’t.” The baroness smoothed at her skirts.

“We didn’t mean to make you feel like a caterpillar. We just wanted to take any steps necessary to

make certain you could marry well.”

Charlotte fiddled with the rich embroidery on her bed covering. “I understand that. But I hope you

know me well enough to realize that I would rather not marry than marry someone I hold in no regard.”

“You mean Herbert.”

“He’s nice, I suppose,” Charlotte returned, seeking anything that could be considered a compliment.

“And neat. And I understand that you consider us to be well matched. I… I just don’t agree with that.”

“How seriously is Lord Matson pursuing you?”

She looked up. Her mother gazed at her in the dressing mirror’s reflection, her expression somber. “I’m not entirely certain,” she answered slowly. “But I do know that he’s not using me to step up the ladder. Heavens, someone with his looks and wealth could do much better than me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You always do.”

“Charlotte, I’m trying to be sympathetic. Pray don’t throw insults at me.”

That surprised her. “Sympathetic? In what way?” She slid off the bed to her feet. “You mean that you might permit Xavier to call on me?”

“Our situation hasn’t changed, daughter. I mean that I might speak to your father about discouraging

Lord Herbert. If you truly would rather be alone than married to him.”

“I truly would,” Charlotte said vehemently.

“You understand that you may not have another opportunity to marry. Each year you remain single,

your chances will decline a little further. And don’t rest your hopes on Lord Matson. Whatever his

interest in you, as you said, he has other choices. You won’t.”

“Mama, don’t think I haven’t considered everything you said every day for the past year. I know who I am, and I know that I don’t take young men’s breath away. And Herbert will never see me any differently. If I ever marry, I would hope that it would be to a gentleman who, if he doesn’t see me as beautiful, at least doesn’t see me as dull.”

The baroness rose. “And how does Lord Matson see you? Or do you have no idea of that, either?”

Charlotte smiled. “He says I have fine eyes.”

“I’ll speak to your father.” Lady Birling walked to the door and pulled it open. “If he agrees, Lord Matson may call on you here. You will not go anywhere with him, and he will not court you in public. Not until this mess with Sophia has blown over, anyway. Is that clear?”

Her heart beat so fast that for a moment Charlotte thought she might faint.

“Very clear,” she answered, doing her best not to grin. She would at least get to see Xavier again.

By the time Xavier made his daily afternoon call at Birring House, he was revisiting his kidnaping plan.

It had been twenty-four hours since he’d spoken with Charlotte, and he felt stretched tighter than a bowstring. By now he’d given up trying to figure out what it was about her that drew him, but he could no more stay away than he could stop breathing. Anthony was probably having a good laugh at his expense right now.

He tapped the knocker against the door. As it opened he held up the bouquet of red roses, ready to hand them and his card over to the butler when he was once again refused entry. Instead, the liveried servant stepped back.

“If you’ll wait in the morning room, my lord.”

For a moment Xavier thought he’d called on the wrong house. Recovering himself, he followed the old man into a small, comfortable sitting room and watched the door close. Perhaps Lord Birling meant to lock him away—but no key turned in the door. He gripped the flowers and paced to the fireplace and back. The baron could warn him away again, but he would return. And he would keep returning until Charlotte herself told him to go away.

The door opened again. As he faced it, Charlotte walked into the morning room. He was halfway across the floor before he registered that her maid had entered behind her. Cursing silently, Xavier brought himself to a halt. She was there; he didn’t care whether she’d come accompanied by circus performers.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she said with a curtsy.

Inclining his head, he finished closing the distance between them at a more sedate pace and handed her the bouquet. “Good afternoon. I… trust you are well?”

“Yes, thank you. Won’t you have a seat?” She lowered her face to the rose petals, glancing up at him from beneath dark lashes. “And thank you for the bouquet,” she continued, handing them to her maid, who backed to the doorway and passed them off to a footman.

She seated herself on the couch. He wanted to sit beside her and take her hand, but whatever this was, it appeared they were to act with propriety, and so he took the chair directly opposite her. “You’re most welcome.”

“May I offer you some tea?”

Xavier sat forward a little. “What the devil is going on?”

Her lips twitched. “You are to be permitted to call on me.”

His heart flip-flopped. “I am? Then what—”

“But there are rules.”

“Rules,” he repeated, settling back again. “What rules?”

“I cannot leave the house in your company, and you may not be seen pursuing me in public.”

“May I be seen dancing with you in public?”

“No.”

“Then I suppose kissing you is out of the question.”

Color flooded her cheeks. “Yes, it is.”

“Why the change? Not that I’m complaining, of course.” Actually he did have a few complaints, but since they now seemed able to converse, he supposed the rest could wait a short time. A very short time.

“We were in
Whistledown.”

He nodded. “I saw, blast that woman—whoever she is. What did you tell your parents?”

“That I’d gone to the park to meet you.”

Xavier lifted an eyebrow. Something had obviously changed for the better, and if he had to guess, he would say it had much to do with the fetching young woman seated across from him. “You simply told them?”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “They made me a bit angry.”

“It seems to have worked to our benefit.”

“Partially, at any rate.”

“And Lord Herbert?”

Charlotte grimaced for a moment. “He’s not to know, either.”

This agreement seemed to be even less advantageous than he’d thought. “So I’m not considered a

serious suitor. And then once your engagement is announced I simply go away?”

“Xavier, they know I don’t wish to marry Herbert, but my father insists that your intentions may not be… sincere, and that my chances at matrimony in the meantime shouldn’t be ruined.”

After he’d won her once and for all, Xavier intended to have a little chat with Lord Birling about underestimating the value of his daughter. Before he could win her, however, he would obviously need to receive permission to at least dance with her in front of other people, damn it all.

“It’s a lot of rules,” she continued, glancing at him and then away again. “After all, there are other single wom—”

“I can tolerate the rules,” he returned sharply. “I can even tolerate damned Herbert. But I am sincere in my intentions, and I will make your father understand that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am.” Relenting a little, he forced a smile. “After all, I learned a great deal about strategy in the military. I don’t pursue a campaign unless I have a good expectation of succeeding.”

“And all this because I defended Lord Easterly?”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “That turned my head in your direction. My ears and eyes and mouth took care of the rest.” As had his heart, he was beginning to realize, but making her aware of how special she was remained a difficult enough prospect without his frightening her to death with declarations. Hell, hearing him say it aloud would give
him
an apoplexy. Xavier the rakehell falling for a quiet, restrained, witty, intelligent female.

Her lips quirking, she glanced at her maid. “I admit I have felt the effect of your mouth, my lord,” she said in a low voice.

This looking and not touching was going to kill him. “You haven’t begun to feel the effect of my mouth, Charlotte,” he murmured. “And you’re causing my patience with this nonsense to shorten considerably.”

She gazed at him for a moment. “You’re completely serious, aren’t you?”

“About you? Yes, I am.” He knew what she was asking, and he knew what his answer meant. To his surprise, though, it didn’t unsettle him in the least.

Rather, he felt … complete. And content. Or he would, if he could figure out what in damnation it would take to get her parents to agree to take his suit seriously.

“I apologize if I sound incredulous, Xavier,” she continued slowly, “but my father had to go out and find Lord Herbert when they decided I needed to marry. No man has ever pursued me. I—”

“Until now,” he interrupted.

Charlotte looked down at her hands for a moment, then gazed at him again.

She always looked him in

the eye, he realized. He liked that about her—in addition to the other things he was swiftly coming to appreciate about her character.

“My older sister, Helen,” she said after a moment, “is stunning. She had suitors practically climbing through windows to court her. And much as I love Helen, I have to say that I noticed things—the way she hated reading, couldn’t bear to discuss anything but gossip and fashion, wouldn’t attend the theater unless escorted by someone she wished everyone to see accompanying her—she knew how to be popular, and well-liked, and nothing else interested her.”

“It’s a common theme among young ladies,” he returned, reflecting that he’d known dozens like her sister, and no one like her.

“But not for me,” she countered, as if reading his thoughts. “None of the things that interested her, interest me. And I think I told myself that my refusing to play those games was the reason I never had any gentleman callers. But I know the truth. I’m not stunning, and I’m not exciting. And I… I want to be certain that you aren’t in pursuit simply because my parents’ suspicion of your motives has made this some sort of challenge to you.”

He smiled slowly, unable to resist running a finger along her cheek. “You are a challenge. And please don’t blame me because a shipload of very stupid men looked at you once and declared you

uninteresting. I looked at you twice, and I saw what you are.”

Color crept up her cheeks. “And what is that?”

“Mine.”

“Xavier—”

The baron and baroness swept into the room with enough speed that they’d probably witnessed him caressing her. Damnation. Straitlaced, and spies. He couldn’t imagine a worse combination.

“Good afternoon, Lord Matson.”

He stood, sketching a bow. “Lord and Lady Birling. Thank you for allowing me to converse with Charlotte.”

“We remain unconvinced of your intentions,” her father said bluntly, “but Charlotte won’t come to her senses without proof of your passing interest.”

Beside him, she stiffened. At least she seemed to notice now her parents’ low opinion of her desirability—and at least now it annoyed her. “Lord Matson knows all about the rules,” she said tightly, “and he’s agreed to follow them.”

No, he hadn’t.
“I’m afraid that you are going to be disappointed, my lord,”

Xavier replied, wondering

what they would do if he offered for her on the spot. He wouldn’t— couldn’t—take the risk, however.

If they refused him, as he was fairly certain they would, he’d be put in the position of defying them directly. While he had no qualms about that, he knew that Charlotte would.

“Charlotte is practically engaged to Lord Herbert Beetly,” her mother put in.

“You’ve made that clear, my lady. With all respect, she has neither been proposed to, nor has she accepted any such offer. She is therefore available to be courted, and wooed.”

The baron actually blinked. “True, I suppose, but if you are sincere, you are also late to the race. I have confidence in Lord Herbert and his impeccable character. I am much less certain about you.”

“You won’t have any doubts by the time I’m finished.” He would have pushed harder, but Charlotte’s face had grown pale, and she practically shook with tension. Xavier took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “I have a few errands to run. I’ll call on you tomorrow, Charlotte.”

“Xavier.”

He could feel her pulse beneath his fingers, hard and fast. That encouraged him, far more than her parents’ obvious disapproval could lower his hopes. As he strode past the Birlings and out their front door, he made a silent vow to himself. He would marry Charlotte Birling. And from then on, anyone

with an unkind word for her would have to answer to him.

Lord Matson continues to face resistance in his pursuit of Miss Birling.

But is it Miss Birling who is doing the resisting, or the young lady’s parents?

Given Lord Matson’s fine form and figure, one can only imagine that it is the elder Birlings

who are proving to be anti-romantical. Miss Birling is made of stern stuff, to be sure, but

surely not that stern.