“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lawrence said, although the idea was not at all off-putting. In fact, it was rather enticing. He wasn’t in the mood to be polite and listen to idle, boring chatter.
He was not in the mood to be bored, in fact, and that was the crux of it. These days boredom seemed to plague him wherever he went. Every dinner, every ball, every evening spent at his club—they all blended together these days.
Maybe that was a sign he was getting old.
He wasn’t old yet, obviously. He was still young, physically speaking. It was in every other way that he felt ancient.
Only one memory stuck out of late. The memory of a silly redheaded young lady who’d declared him a ghost.
The memory had his lips twitching with amusement and he eyed the front door with a little less abhorrence. There was every chance she would be there. She was one of Torrent’s daughters, of course she’d be there.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said to Gregory.
“That’s the spirit, my friend.” Gregory started forward, all eager enthusiasm.
Lawrence was slower to fall behind. The thought of the younger sister was enticing, no doubt, but that didn’t make the prospect of business discussions and a tediously long dinner sound any more appealing.
He’d just hit the front steps when he heard it.
A squeaking sound coming from the alley beside the house. The squeak was followed by a grunt.
What on earth?
“One moment, Gregory,” he called up to his friend.
Gregory gave him a jaunty salute and leaned against the doorframe to await him as he hurried around the corner. Another squeaking noise. Was that a meow?
He furrowed his brow as he stared into the shadows of the narrow alley. He might have a reputation for being standoffish and too serious but that didn’t mean he had no heart. He never had been able to abide the thought of an innocent animal being hurt.
He picked up his pace, his attention caught by a movement just over his head. A window. He stared in disbelief until he was right under the window.
This was…not a cat.
It still took another heartbeat to make out what it was, however.
White fabric billowed and bloomed overhead, and then a leg shot out with an oof.
It was a lady. Why on earth…? Oh, what did it matter why? There was a damsel in distress straddling a windowsill.
“Pardon me, are you all right?” he called up. “Do you need assis—”
The woman above him squeaked and jerked at the sound of his voice. And then—
Oof.
She fell on him.
He made a valiant attempt to keep the lady from danger, clutching her to his chest as they both toppled to the ground. His body taking the brunt of the fall.
“Oh my heavens,” a female voice atop him said, her voice breathless and winded—though no doubt not quite as winded as he. He struggled to draw in a deep breath as the young lady shifted aside, falling onto her bottom beside him with another oof.
Silence fell. The kind of silence that seems to echo because it is so stunningly quiet after a moment of such violent upheaval.
It was the kind of silence befitting this moment when a woman had toppled out of a window and brought them both to the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” the lady in question said, breaking the silence in a flurry of movements.
Stunned, Lawrence watched in fascination as the redhead from his most vivid memory ran her hands over his shoulders and his chest. Feeling for…what?
He had no idea.
But he did not want her to stop.
“Are you all right?” Her worried gaze rose to meet his and she froze.
He froze.
They stared at one another for an interminable moment and he watched as her eyes filled with recognition, followed by shock, followed by…
Horror.
“Oh no.” She scrambled backwards on her hands and feet like a crab until her foot caught on her skirt and her bottom landed on the ground with a thud.
Again.
She clamped her mouth shut just as he caught his breath…and found his voice. “What on earth were you doing?”
She winced and he realized it had come out rather loudly. But then again…what on earth had she been doing?
She straightened, her chin going up high as anger flashed in her eyes. “What are you doing back here?”
He threw a hand out to the opening from which she’d just arrived. “You came out of a window!”
“And you were loitering in an alley!”
Her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths, and he had the most insane urge to laugh.
He rarely laughed.
He also had another uncharacteristic desire, but it was vastly more ridiculous. He had the urge to lean over, tug her into his arms and kiss her.
Ridiculous, he told himself. But now he was the one who suffered from labored breathing.
Focus, Tumberland.
She recovered first, crossing her arms and looking absurdly dignified for someone who’d just toppled out of a window. “I needed air,” she said stiffly. She narrowed her eyes. “Why were you in an alley?”
“I was just waiting for a lady to fall into my arms.”
She huffed, her glare unwavering as her lips pinched at his sarcasm.
“I thought I heard an animal in distress,” he said.
“An animal?” Her indignation was something to see. Her eyes flashed with pride, and her shoulders thrust back. “It was not an animal.”
“Yes, so I’ve noticed. But, you see, I thought I heard a cat—”
“A cat?” Her voice went high-pitched at that.
“In distress,” he continued, oddly enchanted by the sight of her outrage.
“You thought you heard a cat in a distress and you…what? Just chased after it?” Her gaze met his. “Well, that’s…” He saw the moment his words registered and she heard what she’d said. “That’s awfully thoughtful of you, actually.”
She muttered it softly. Reluctantly.
He found himself fighting a smile. “Yes, well, I have my moments.”
Her anger seemed to be fading fast. Maybe now he could get through to her. Make her talk. Because he had questions of his own and he wasn’t going anywhere until he got answers. “Miss Purchase—”
“It’s Miss Louisa,” she said.
“Miss Louisa, why on earth were you climbing out of a window? And please do not try and convince me that the air in this alley was what drove you to it.”
They both inhaled and he was certain she smelled the unsavory scents from the street just as well as he.
“Very well, I was—” She clamped her mouth shut as her cheeks grew rosy. “Uh, that is, I was trying to…”
She stopped talking. He waited just long enough until it was clear she was done. That was the only explanation she was going to offer.
“Ah, I see,” he said. “That explains everything.”
She blinked in the face of his sarcasm. He was used to that response. Meanwhile, he was taking her in. All of her. She’d righted her skirts but he found himself cataloging every freckle, every stray hair—of which there were many thanks to that tumble—and every dirt smudge on her gloves. Concern temporarily overrode curiosity. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Then she mashed her lips together, and he got the feeling she was trying to keep from speaking.
The attempt looked painful.
He arched a brow, and she caved. “It seems someone broke my fall.” She clamped her mouth shut once more but not before he caught the tiniest hitch of her lips. She was trying not to laugh.
The little minx.
He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, it seems I have excellent timing.”
She shut her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. “My lord, I am so very sorry—”
He held up a hand to silence her. “I do not need your apologies.” He dropped his hand. “It is my honor to break a lady’s fall.
”
He’d been told before that he had a dry sense of humor. Some might say it was dry bordering on nonexistent. Most did not know whether he was, in fact, in jest.
This was not the case with Louisa. She burst out in an adorably genuine laugh. Short, loud, and just shy of a cackle. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it and once again he caught her closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath.
“Are you attempting to calm yourself?” He was honestly curious. The girl’s emotions seemed to be all over the place and it was impossible to read how she might react next. One moment she was painfully embarrassed, the next she was trying not to tease him, and then she laughed.
At his joke.
No one ever laughed at his jokes.
He was beyond flummoxed by the whole situation. So much so, he didn’t move to get off the ground or offer his hand to bring her to her feet.
Oddly enough, she seemed just as content to stay there as well. Like they’d both just decided to have a picnic in an alley. As one does.
Her eyes fluttered open. “I apologize, my lord—”
“What did I say about apologies?”
She bit her lip. “You’re right. I’m sorr—” She caught herself with a funny little wince. Letting out a long exhale, she said, “It is just that sometimes when I am in a predicament, it is difficult for me not to laugh.”
“I see.” He studied her and found her green eyes wide with sincerity. Adorable. “And do you often find yourself in such a…predicament?” He gestured to their little picnic to make his point.
“Not precisely like this but…yes,” she said with a weary sigh that nearly made him laugh aloud. Now it was his turn to fight for composure and he felt certain he could say with no qualms that he had never in his life had to battle for composure.
This girl had an odd effect. He shifted, bringing one leg in so he could better face her. “First I find you dancing in the middle of the night—”
“Early morning,” she interrupted, catching that full lower lip of hers with her teeth the moment his gaze cut to hers.
“You are correct. My apologies,” he said. “I caught you dancing alone in your nightgown in the early morning, and now…this.”
She hung her head and mumbled something to herself that he did not quite hear. Whatever it was, her entire demeanor shifted once again. The humor and embarrassment faded to something morose that had his own heart clenching in response.
He tried to make his tone gentle and sensitive. “Were you running away?”
“No!” Her head shot up quickly. “Of course not. I was merely heading back home.”
“This is not your home?” he asked. For the life of him, he couldn’t quite seem to catch up with this conversation.
“Apparently not.” There was no denying the hint of sadness in her tone as she mumbled it, her gaze on the ground.
“I see.” He most definitely did not see.
“So, if you were not running away from home,” he started slowly, hoping that perhaps she might jump in with some sort of clue to help him along.
She did not.
She merely lifted her gaze to meet his, her brows arching slowly as if she too was wondering what he might guess next.
He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you just walk out the front door?”
She licked her lips. “Well, uh, you see…” There was that blush again. It made her green eyes sparkle like jewels. The pink in her cheeks matched the color of her lips, and if she kept biting her bottom lip like that it would grow even more swollen and even more…kissable.
“Tumberland, you back there?” Gregory’s voice just around the corner had him shaking his head, once more back in reality.
The same seemed to happen to the girl with the fiery hair because her eyes went wide as she scrambled to her feet. “Oh, please, don’t let him come back here.”
“It’s all right, Gregory. I’ll be right there,” he called to his friend. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She was scurrying toward the back of the alley. Who knew what was back there?
“I need to get back,” she said quickly. “I am truly sorry.”
“If you apologize again, I shall never forgive you,” he said.
She laughed. He smirked. He liked that she understood when he was teasing.
She stopped at the back of the alley. “I…I know I cannot ask you any favors but—”
“Go on, ask,” he said. His curiosity was piqued, that was all. That was the only reason he wanted her to stay and talk to him. Ask him a favor, laugh at his jokes, chide him for chasing a cat. He truly didn’t mind what she did, he just did not want this moment to end.
“Do not tell my family. Please, please do not tell my family about this.” She drew in a deep breath and the pleading look in her eyes was almost too much to bear. She looked too close to tears, and that was not right. This feisty, silly, funny little thing should never have occasion to cry.
And certainly not if there was something he could do to help it. He picked his hat up from where it had fallen on the ground and held it over his heart. “You have my word.”
He was rewarded with a small smile before she disappeared. He heard an old man’s voice call out to her that her carriage would be ready soon and he…
He had no desire to go inside.
But he had questions, and as the young Miss Purchase did not seem inclined to answer them…
He’d be forced to deal with her family.
Chapter Five
Unlike Miss Louisa, the rest of the family seemed quite happy to see him.
Too happy, as it were.
“Where did you disappear to?” Gregory asked as a talkative Lady Torrent led the way to the drawing room.
“Nowhere.”
“Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“No.” He could feel Gregory’s look of disbelief. “Just a cat.”
“A cat?”
The hushed conversation was mercifully cut short as Lord Torrent gestured for them to take a seat beside the elder sister, a Miss… Oh drat, what was her name?
“I am certain you remember my eldest daughter, Miss Margaret Purchase.”
“Of course,” he said with a little bow as he reached the settee where she was artfully posed.
Posed seemed to be the best word for it as she did not seem entirely comfortable, but rather, situated in a way to show her best features in the candlelight. Sitting there with that stiff smile, she reminded him of a piece of art…or perhaps a collectible doll like one might buy for a young girl.
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Purchase,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
Her response was quiet and forgettable, but she seemed nice enough and it was clear that her parents were hoping for some sort of interaction between them when Lady Torrent’s stilted conversation became that much more stilted for their attempts to draw Margaret into the conversation.
“Oh yes, the Murphys always did enjoy grand affairs,” Lady Torrent said with a forced laugh when the topic turned to shared acquaintances in the countryside where they owned neighboring estates. “Is that not right, Margaret?”
Lady Torrent looked to Margaret with brows arched in expectation.
Poor Margaret’s eyes flashed with panic. “Yes,” she said quickly. And then when she realized that her mother wanted her to elaborate, she added, “Quite right.”
Lady Torrent turned a broad beaming smile his way as if to say, See? There you have it. Margaret has spoken.
It was a lucky thing he’d brought Gregory along or the entire night might have been a lesson in cruel and unusual punishment for him, Margaret, her mother—whose cheeks had to be in pain by now with all that forced smiling—and her father, who sat there silently, looking far too serious by far.
Once Gregory discovered that Margaret shared his love of music, he stepped in handily, steering her into a conversation and drawing her out.
Lawrence had known she w
as beautiful—everyone kept telling him so, after all—but it wasn’t until he saw her light up with honest enthusiasm during her conversation with Gregory that he actually believed it.
She was awfully pretty, he supposed. If one was partial to thin, tall blondes with perfect features and a mild, composed demeanor.
Gregory certainly seemed to take a liking to the girl.
For Lawrence’s part, all he could muster was a pleasant but tepid admiration for her. He wished he felt more, to be honest. He needed to wed to produce an heir, her father owned a neighboring estate, she came from good families. She’d be a solid match.
He found himself musing over this halfheartedly, as he tried to keep his attention on Margaret and her mother, or at the very least on whatever it was Lord Torrent was stewing about in his seat by the fireplace.
Lawrence suspected they were to discuss a sale of property tonight. By all rights, he should be thinking about the logistics that were involved.
He should be thinking about all of these things, but instead, his thoughts kept coming back to Louisa.
It was only natural, he supposed. It was not every day one was accosted by a young lady falling out of a window. And the ensuing conversation had been so odd, so out of the norm, so…charming.
No, not charming,
Enchanting.
He hadn’t even realized that he’d been grinning over the memory until Lady Torrent met his smile with a frozen grimace of her own. His own smirk faded fast as he once more realized where he was…and with whom.
“You have another daughter, do you not?” The question was admittedly abrupt.
The room seemed to freeze. Only Gregory did not tense at the innocuous question. “Why, yes!” Lady Torrent’s voice was a little too loud and far too shrill. “That is right, you have met Louisa, have you not?”
“Not properly,” he murmured.
Wrong thing to say.
He realized it instantly but he had not been thinking. Poor Lady Torrent looked stricken.
“She seemed a charming young lady,” he added quickly, and the older woman’s expression eased with relief.
Had she honestly expected him to sit here and berate Louisa for dancing in her night clothes some six months after the fact? He might not be known as the most effusive conversationalist, but he was hardly so callous as all that.
The School of Charm: Books 1-5 Page 18