Charlotte laughed again at the absurdity of Damian’s objections to Mr. Larkford. “Surely fashion has nothing to do with compatibility. Let us try a different approach.”
“Such as?” Damian lifted one dark eyebrow.
“Tell me how to know if a man is enamored with me. What would he say? How would he act? That sort of thing.”
Damian flexed his arm, giving her hand a small squeeze. “A man who wishes to possess you would keep you close. He would compliment you and go out of his way to ensure your comfort and happiness.”
Charlotte absorbed his words, then gave a nod.
“He would take every opportunity to touch you.” Damian brought them to a stop and stepped in front of her. He reached out and feathered his fingers across her cheek then down her arm.
Charlotte shivered with pleasure as a wave of warmth coursed through her. She leaned toward him. “What else might he do?” Her question came out low, husky.
“If given the chance, he would pull you into his arms.” Damian gathered her against him.
Charlotte stared into his gaze, arrested by his words and actions as though she were in a trance of his making. She parted her lips with a sigh. “Then what?”
Damian's lips captured hers, a soft press of his full warm lips to hers. Completely mesmerized, Charlotte wound her arms around his neck and opened, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He suckled her lower lip, eliciting a moan from deep within her.
Taking his lips from hers, Damian set her apart from him and turned away. “He will kiss you like you are the only woman alive.”
Charlotte’s heart hitched as Damian walked away, the heady scent of him replaced by that of the nearby flowers as he retreated. She rested her gloved fingers on her tingling lips. Why the deuce had he done that?
Chapter 5
Damien, being the good friend that he was, rode along Rotten Row beside Edgemore and his sister Lady Minerva. As was usually the case, Hyde Park bustled with people, and Rotten Row lived up to its name. Leastwise in his opinion. for so many horses and carriages traversed the route that no-one actually seemed to be in motion.
Why the devil had he allowed Edgemore to drag him into this? For all the hell-raising Edgemore engaged in, he turned into a perfect gentle when his sister neared. The fool would do anything Lady Minerva asked of him. Grayson was bloody glad that he did not have a sister of his own. Women were too much trouble.
He cleared his throat. “Must we remain at a standstill? Could we not go around them?”
Edgemore turned to his sister. “We could choose a different path?”
She frowned back at him. “The point is to be seen, not to ride neck or nothing.”
“The only people seeing you are those stuck directly behind us,” Grayson drawled.
Lady Minerva glanced around them. “I see your point. I suppose we could ride toward the Serpentine.”
Grayson wasted no time turning his mount toward the river. He’d prefer to be at the Wicked Earls’ Club, but at present anywhere would be better than Rotten Row. What he wouldn't give to set his mount into a fast canter. As it were, he would have to settle for a steady gait.
He focused his attention ahead, a small smile pulling at his lips when the sparkling water came into view. It was a pleasant day with bright sunshine and a cool breeze. As they neared the Serpentine, several people came into view. Ladies strolling the bank with gentlemen, and children out with their nannies, playing along the river or feeding the ducks. His gaze landed on a couple sitting on a blanket under a lime tree enjoying a picnic. He studies the scene.
His chest tightened as the lady’s features came into focus. Pale blond curls peeked out from beneath her bonnet and a rosy flush painted her cheeks. He turned his attention to the gentleman. What the devil was Charlotte doing with Lord Jostling?
Damien’s blood heated as he turned his mount toward the pair. Jostling was no better than a parasite. Cruel to animals and light skirts, not to even mention the rumors surrounding his finances. Charlotte deserved far better. Without considering his actions, Damien jumped from his mount and grabbed Jostling by his coat, hauling him to his feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” Charlotte sprang to her feet. “Stop it at once!”
Jostling squirmed in Damien's grip. “Release me, you brute!”
Damien stared hard at him, scowling. “You are to stay away from Lady Charlotte.”
“That is not your decision to make.” Jostling peered up at Damien. “Take your hands from me.”
Damien jerked the man then pulled him close again. “If you value your limbs, you will abandon your pursuit of her.”
Charlotte grabbed Damien’s sleeve. “Enough.”
“He is not for you,” Damien said.
“I will choose who I spend my time with.” Charlotte tugged at Damien's hand.
Damien released Jostling, then he pulled his fist back and smashed it into the parasite’s jaw. As the man crumbled to the ground, Damien turned to Charlotte. “Not on my watch.”
A sharp intake of breath caused both Damien and Charlotte to turn around.
“Good heavens. Why did you do that?” Lady Minerva, wide-eyed, sat upon her horse with one hand resting on her chest.
“Because he has the manners of a farm animal,” Charlotte seethed. She pivoted, returned hastily to Jostling’s side, then lowered herself to the ground beside him.
Edgemore slid from his mount and went to stand beside her. “Actually, Lord Jostling is the one lacking manners. You would serve yourself well to listen to Lord Grayson.”
Charlotte slanted her glance towards Damien. “Pray tell, what is your objection to Lord Jostling?”
“He is no gentleman,” Damien said.
“And you are?” Charlotte raised a pale eyebrow.
Damien’s jaw tightened. “You do not know the things he has done. As if whipping horses until their hides bleed is not bad enough, you should hear what he does to light—”
“That is quite enough.” Edgemore nodded toward Lady Minerva who was staring at them all, soaking up every word.
Damien held a hand out to Charlotte. "Allow me to return you home. I will explain everything on the way.”
“I came in Lord Jostling’s carriage, and that is how I shall return.”
“Be reasonable.” Damien stretched out his arm, moving his hand closer to her. “The man is hardly able to escort you aware at present.”
Charlotte peered, her ice-blue eyes crackling. “Because of you.”
“Let us not cast blame,” Edgemore waved his hand in a lazy arc. “Go with Lord Grayson and I will take care of Lord Jostling.”
Charlotte glanced back down at Jostling then returned her attention to Edgemore. “I cannot share his mount. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“I will walk and you can have the damn horse. Come along.” Damien wiggled the fingers on his outstretched hand.
Charlotte shook her head. “No.”
“Lady Charlotte can ride Minerva’s horse.” Edgemore strolled over to his sister and helped her to dismount. “We will wait for Jostling to wake. Just return the mount once you are done.”
“Surely you cannot object now.” Lady Minerva smiled at Lady Charlotte.
“I suppose not.” She stood then dusted her skirt. “Lord Edgemore, will you assist me?”
Damien released a deep breath, fisting his hands at his sides.
Edgemore gave a smile and nod as he began toward the horse.
Damien could not take his eyes from Lady Charlotte as Edgemore lifted her onto the horse. His pulse thrummed and his blood remained heated, but there was something more too—bloody hell if he wasn’t jealous!
He stopped to his own horse and mounted. “Let us be on our way.”
Lady Charlotte signaled her chaperones then set the horse into a fast walk without speaking a word to Damien.
He’d be damned if the minx was going to ignore him. Damien brought his horse beside hers. “Charlotte.”
She kicke
d her mount, putting it into a canter.
Damien caught up in short measure. “Do be reasonable.”
She shot him a seething glare. “You caused quite the scene.”
“I won’t apologize.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” She pushed her horse faster.
Tightening his grip on his reins, he once more came up beside her. “Lord Jostling is a parasite. He preys on women and has no respect for animals.”
“I care not what you think of him. Save your energy and mind your own affairs.”
“You became my affair when you asked for my help,” Damien said, his tone low and serious. He could not allow Charlotte to make such a colossal mistake as marring Jostling. The man reminded him of his own father. How many nights had Damien cowered in a corner while his father beat his mother? Too many.
Long ago echoes of her cries and pleas echoed through his mind. He would not allow Charlotte to have the same fate. He led his horse closer to hers and grabbed for the reins. She would hear him out whether or not she wished to. “Jostling has a reputation for abusing light skirts as well. If he enjoys whipping light skirts, what do you think he would do with a wife?”
Charlotte jerked at her horses reins. “I do not believe you.”
“Ask Edgemore. He will concur. Hell, all of the gentlemen of the ton are aware of Jostling's habits.” Damien stared at her, pleading for her to hear his words, take his warning.
“You find something wrong with all of my suitors. I do not wish to hear any more of your objections. Do return me home, then forget that I asked for your help. Forget I even exist. It should not be hard for you to do, as you’ve already done so once before.”
Defeated—at least for the moment—Damien released the reins, and let her go.
Chapter 6
Charlotte’s gaze caught Damien’s as Lord Jostling led her up the line of dancers at the Kettering Ball. She glared at him for a heartbeat before turning her attention back to her dance partner. She should never have involved herself with the unpredictable earl. Truly, her past experience with him should have been more than enough to warn her off.
Despite the passage of two full days, Charlotte could not cease thinking about Damien and the way he had acted in the park. The very nerve of him to interrupt her outing, attack Lord Jostling, and then tell such horrid stories about him. She could not help but wonder at what had possessed him to behave thusly.
In the days since, she had attended a garden party, a soirée, and a dinner party. Damien had made an appearance at all three, but had not dared approach her, but neither did he ignore her. Instead, Damien spent his time staring at her and Lord Jostling as if they were the most interesting and offensive things he’d ever seen.
Every time she hazarded a glance, she found Damien nearby with his attention honed in on them. It made her nerves crackle and caused her blood to heat. Worse, a deep down part of her thrilled at his attention despite her vexation with him.
Charlotte could not say that she loved Lord Jostling; however, he was the most attentive of her suitors and she enjoyed his company. The man had done nothing to give her pause—not even after Damien had attacked him. In fact, Lord Jostling had called on her, offering apologies. The very thing Damien should have done. And yet, she found herself still drawn to Damien.
Lord Jostling pulled her into his arms as a waltz began. “Ignore him.”
“It’s difficult when he won’t cease staring at us.” Charlotte cautioned a glance in Damien’s direction, and he scowled back at her.
“Look at me,” Lord Jostling said.
Charlotte brought her gaze back to his.
“He will soon grow tired of playing nursemaid. In the meantime, I have set up a little distraction.” Lord Jostling grinned. “There she is now.”
Charlotte drew her brows together. A lithe woman with golden tresses all piled on top of her head took hold of Damien’s arm. Charlotte had the sudden urge to march across the ballroom and insert herself between them as Damien bestowed a roguish grin on the woman. Before she could act so foolish, Lord Jostling guided her from the dance floor.
“Lady Constantine will keep him distracted while we sneak away for a bit.”
Charlotte could not help but glance back over her shoulder. The harlot had her paws all over Damien in the most inappropriate way. Were they familiar with one another? Perhaps the woman hoped to find herself beneath his bedclothes?
“I have a surprise for you,” Lord Jostling said.
Charlotte gave him a smile. “You needn’t go to any trouble on my behalf.”
“You are worth all the trouble in the world, Lady Charlotte. I intend to spoil you every chance I have.” He patted her gloved hand where it rested on his coat sleeve as he swept her into the hallway.
Excitement bubbled up within her and shoved all thoughts of Damien into the shadows of her mind. Damien was her past; Lord Jostling would be her future. She turned a dazzling smile on him. “You flatter me, my lord. I cannot wait to see what you have done.”
“You deserve flattery.” Lord Jostling chuckled. He led Charlotte into the orangery then down the winding path to the back.
The smell of citrus engulfed her and the warmth of the orangery wrapped around her, calming what remained of her irritation with Damien. She put all of her focus on Lord Jostling and enjoying her time with him.
Her breath caught when he brought her to a stop. There before her was a small table sequestered within a group of fruit trees. A candelabra and two champagne flutes sat upon the crisp red tablecloth. “How perfect.”
“It pales in comparison to you.” Lord Jostling lifted a flute and handed it to her.
Charlotte’s cheeks warmed as she accepted the glass.
Lord Jostling retrieved the second flute and held it out. “A toast to us.”
“To us.” Charlotte grinned before taking a drink of the sweet bubbly liquor.
“Dance with me.” Lord Jostling pulled her scandalously close with his free arm.
Charlotte stiffened at their close proximity. She wanted to enjoy this—to soak him up—but she could not relax. Forcing herself to follow his lead, she took another swallow of champagne as they swayed together.
Lord Jostling stopped moving but did not release her. “Finish your drink.”
She did as he bid, then allowed him to take her flute and place it on the table.
“Better?” He rubbed the back of his fingers across her cheek.
When had he removed his gloves? Charlotte nodded. “Yes.”
“I am going to kiss you now.” Lord Jostling brought his lips to hers.
His lips brushed hers and Charlotte closed her eyes, waiting for the headiness she knew a kiss brought. Lord Jostling's lips moved over hers, suckling, tantalizing, daring her to deepen the kiss. Still, Charlotte felt nothing—certainly not the desire to kiss him more fully.
This, too, was Damien’s fault. He had her so upset that she could not allow herself to focus on Lord Jostling. The dratted rogue! Even now, she could smell his unique scent of sandalwood and bergamot tangled with raw masculinity.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she opened her eyes. She pulled her lips from Lord Jostling’s and inhaled sharply. Damien strode toward them, a fierce scowl twisting his features.
Charlotte stepped out of Lord Jostling’s embrace and marched toward Damien. She’d not allow him to harm Lord Jostling again. “This is a private moment. No one invited you.”
“You are an unwed lady.” Having reached her, Damien took her elbow. “You do not get to have private moments.”
She jerked her arm, but he did not release her. “You have no say in the matter.”
“We shall see about that.” Damien gave another tug, setting her in motion.
“I will call on you tomorrow,” Lord Jostling yelled after her.
Charlotte felt like she should stomp on Damien’s foot. Demand to be released. Pull her arm free. Anything other than accepting
his brutish behavior. Instead, she simply allowed him to take her from the orangery. Knowing Damien as she did, nothing she could do would sway him from his course anyways.
She’d expected Damien to take her straight back to the ballroom. When he instead led her through a side door and out into the garden, her anger bloomed afresh. The nerve of him denying her stolen moment with Lord Jostling and then forcing her into one with him. She jerked free, spinning around on him. “You can rest at ease. I am returning to my parents.”
“He is the worst sort of man. Nothing good can come of your courtship.”
Charlotte turned away, her heart hammering. “No, you are.”
“Charlotte, listen to me.” Damien approached her, his gaze never leaving hers.
“No, you listen to me. Lord Jostling has been the perfect gentleman. I like him and there is nothing you can do to stop me from seeing him.” Charlotte held her ground as Damien drew closer. “We have a comfortable companionship and I believe he would make a fine husband.”
“Is that truly what you want? A comfortable companionship?” Damien swept his gaze down the length of her body.
Charlotte ignored the heat rising in her body and glared at him. “What more could I ask for? Love?” Cynicism laced her voice. “I believe I have already tried that.”
“You could at least strive for passion.” Damien captured her lips with his in a crushing kiss.
Charlotte’s belly fluttered and her knees went weak as she opened for him. Her tongue slid against his, the heat of her anger giving way to a fierce longing. She wanted him—all of him—and yet she could not have him. She pulled away and pivoted for the house.
“Tell me, do his kisses disarm you? Do they make you thighs quiver? Your breath come in pants?”
Charlotte did not look back. She could not, for if she did, Damien would see the answers without her speaking a word.
Chapter 7
Damien tried to enjoy the buxom wench seated in his lap as he drained his fourth--or was it his fifth?-- tumbler of scotch. After Charlotte had fled from him, he’d gone to the Wicked Earls’ Club, determined to drink her away.
Earl of Grayson Page 3