With that background, Portney’s had beckoned Charlotte with the prospect of girlish friendship. Instead, it had been a rude awakening to the difficulty of insinuating oneself into social circles that were well established. Particularly when one was quiet and bookish and unprepared for the cruelty that existed in cliques populated by girls who were already connected by family and social ties. She feared this pretend betrothal might resemble those months at finishing school in more ways than she wished.
“He’s not some idle aristocrat, whiling away the hours at social functions or gambling hells or”—Phillip stopped abruptly, giving her the distinct impression he’d checked his words—“or wherever else you might imagine him idling away his time.”
“You can’t deny he’s mentioned a great deal in the society papers, so he’s clearly indulging in his fair share of London’s social whirl.”
“I suppose he is,” Phillip said. “My point is that’s not all he does. He takes his parliamentary duties very seriously, and no one’s better than Norwood when it comes to working out compromises with those on the opposite side of the political aisle.” Her brother’s expression turned into one of mild reproach. “You really shouldn’t be so hard on the man, Charlotte. I know he put your back up, and I don’t entirely blame you for holding on to your initial dislike of him, but give him a chance, and you’ll discover he’s a decent enough fellow.”
“I still think the whole thing is a preposterous plan, and I’m sorry I let myself get talked into it.”
He gave her a pointed look. “In the first place, no one talks you into something you’re truly opposed to, and in the second, it really is the best solution for the both of you.” With that pronouncement, he picked up his periodical, but before he could resume reading, Hopkins appeared in the doorway and announced Lord Norwood’s arrival.
Charlotte rose from her seat on the sofa as the earl strode over to her. He bowed and with a flourish, presented her with a bouquet.
“Thank you, but you needn’t feel obligated to make such gestures.” Despite her words, she was pleased by his thoughtfulness. Taking the ribbon-tied flowers from him—they were quite lovely, pink roses in the first flush of bloom mixed with fragrant, white lilies—she laid them upon a side table before resuming her seat. One of the maids could put them in a vase later.
“Think of it as a peace offering then.” He crossed to the mantelpiece and carelessly leaned one shoulder against it.
“In that case, you should have brought an entire hothouse.”
One side of his mouth quirked up and his eyes gleamed with humor. “No doubt I should have. Still, I’m letting you drive my curricle. Surely that earns me a bit of your favor.”
“That earns you my coquettish smiles,” she said archly.
“Ah, yes.” He turned to Phillip, who was seated in a large armchair. “Your sister drives a hard bargain.”
“Don’t most females?” Phillip asked, earning him a swift, scathing glance from Charlotte. Her brother tossed his periodical onto a side table. “I’ve been thinking about that pair of bays you drive. They seem a good deal too spirited for a novice.”
“They are too spirited for a novice,” Lord Norwood agreed. “I brought a dappled gray pair that I used to teach all my sisters to drive. They’re familiar with a lady’s touch on the ribbons. You needn’t worry about your sister’s safety.”
“Knowing Phillip, he was more worried about the bays,” Charlotte said dryly.
“Not true,” her brother replied. “I’m concerned for you and the horses. But it sounds as if Norwood has things well in hand.”
“You mention ‘all my sisters’ as if you have a great quantity of them,” Charlotte said, suddenly struck by the fact she knew nothing about his family. “Just how many sisters do you have?”
“Four. Two older, two younger.”
“And brothers?” she asked.
“Didn’t bother to read up about me in Debrett’s, eh, Miss Hurst?” Lord Norwood flashed her a teasing grin.
She gave a guilty-as-charged shrug. It hadn’t even occurred to her to consult Debrett’s, the authority of everything aristocratic, since she didn’t pay much heed to the intricacies of the ton’s social hierarchy.
“As it happens, I’m the only son. The coveted heir, doted upon by my parents. I might have turned out quite spoiled, but my sisters, particularly the older ones, refused to let that happen. My oldest sister, Elizabeth, still seizes every opportunity to take me down a peg or two, when she thinks it’s warranted.” His ironic tone implied his sister frequently did think it warranted.
Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at that. “I hope I get the chance to meet her. I think I like her already.”
“No doubt you’ll get along famously with each other. Libby would’ve looked on approvingly had she been witness to that peal you rang over my head this morning.” He pushed away from the mantel. “However, we should be going if we want to get in a driving lesson before the paths become clogged with the late-afternoon riders.”
“Of course,” Charlotte agreed, coming to her feet. “My bonnet and gloves are on the table in the front hall.”
Once she was properly accoutered, and he’d donned his hat, Lord Norwood took her arm, and they walked outside to his waiting curricle. It was a very smart vehicle, gleaming black with dark forest-green trim and matching green leather seats. He helped her in, then went around to the other side and climbed in himself. The groom handed him the reins and the carriage lurched forward.
A thrill of excitement shot through her. She would have a chance to drive this sporting vehicle. It almost made this crazy alliance with Lord Norwood worth it.
Almost.
She was still terrified of making a fool of herself posing as his fiancée.
No sense worrying about that now, she thought.
Traffic was fairly heavy this afternoon, but the earl expertly maneuvered the curricle through the streets of Mayfair. He made it look so effortless, the way he held the reins in his left hand, making only the slightest adjustments as he directed the horses. It was impressive, and for the first time, she felt a smidgen of doubt in her own ability to master this skill.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. That’s why he’s giving you a lesson. To learn how to do it.
She tried to study his technique, but more often than not, she found herself studying him. He cut a very dashing figure beside her in a navy-blue jacket that set off his broad shoulders to perfection, buff trousers that hugged his thighs, and tall, gleaming black Hessian boots. Perhaps she wouldn’t have found all this sartorial splendor so distracting if the man wearing the clothes weren’t so devastatingly handsome. It was no wonder he was considered such a brilliant catch. Even without a title and fortune, he would draw the ladies’ attention. With them…it became even less believable that she’d been the one to reel him in.
Chin up, Charlotte. The die is cast.
Appearing with him in public like this meant there was no going back. A wave of uneasiness washed over her. Would she come to regret her decision to take part in this charade and possibly expose herself to the ton’s ridicule? Her throat tightened and her hands felt clammy as her mind considered the possibility of failure.
Determined not to let her fears get the better of her, she shoved these thoughts aside and watched the city slide past as they made their way to the park. They drove along residential streets filled with rows of stately town houses, and slowly made their way through commercial districts crowded with vehicles of every description. Even though she’d been in London for two months, she still marveled at the sheer variety contained within the city, whether one considered the people, or architecture, shops, or entertainments. Even she, who preferred the quieter, open spaces of England’s countryside, had to admit it was an endlessly fascinating city. A good place to visit, just not one in which she’d choose to live.
After several minutes, Lord Norwood broke the silence. “You’re very quiet,” he said, regarding her with a quizzical
look.
“I’m sorry for being a dull companion. The truth is I don’t have much talent for making small talk, so usually I don’t.”
“I wasn’t complaining about the silence. There is only so much one can say about the weather, and personally I’ve never been a fan of society gossip, so let’s dispense with the small talk and speak of more interesting topics.”
“Such as?” she asked. Since she didn’t know him, it was difficult to gauge what he might consider of interest. Politics, probably, but that seemed a weighty topic for a drive in the park.
“Putting me on the spot, are you?”
“Well…yes,” she said. “I thought perhaps you already had something in mind.”
His sideways glance was assessing. “Not really, but give me a moment.”
“Or we could go back to silence,” she suggested. “You did say you didn’t mind it.”
“That’s true, but so far our conversations have proved most…diverting.”
“By my reckoning, we’ve had only two conversations. If you found this morning’s conversation diverting, you hid it well behind that angry scowl, and as for this afternoon, it’s been a rather ordinary discussion, I would say.”
“About this morning… Initially, I was angry, but once I discovered my wrath was misdirected, I respected the way you didn’t allow me to get away with my unpardonably rude behavior toward you.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I assure you, I was raised to behave better than that. And as for whether you have a talent for making idle chitchat, I’d say your ability to deliver a clever riposte is far more entertaining. You’re not a predictable female, Miss Hurst, and that is quite intriguing.”
“Which just goes to show, you don’t know me very well, because I doubt anyone who does would characterize me as an intriguing sort of person.”
“Ah, but see, you’ve gone and done it again,” he said. “Intrigued me,” he added, when she directed a questioning look at him.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said.
“You have a tendency to downplay yourself, while most ladies of my acquaintance, the unmarried ones, at least, are more likely to try to find ways to catch my attention. That sets you apart, marks you as different, makes you”—he lowered his voice—“intriguing.”
She felt her jaw slacken a little at the way he pronounced the last word, imbuing it with a certain seductive quality, but she managed to pull herself together enough to say, “What a faradiddle.”
“On the contrary. I’m completely serious.”
He did appear serious. She had to give him that. He was smiling at her, but it was friendly, rather than teasing. “In that case, I won’t argue the point further, since doing so would probably serve to deepen this misapprehension of yours.”
“So true.” He threaded the team past a moving dray that had lost part of its load, and then the curricle executed a neat right turn onto Oxford Street and they were nearly to their destination. Hyde Park was just a short way ahead.
“I assume you haven’t changed your mind about driving,” he said when they turned onto Park Lane a few minutes later.
“At the risk of being predictable, I have not.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I rather thought that would be the case.”
“You know, I threw out the idea of your letting me drive on a whim. I didn’t really expect you to agree.”
He gave her a sidelong look that seemed to say I wish I’d known that earlier.
“Although, I’m glad you did,” she continued. “I’ve wanted to learn for some time now. It seems quite practical, don’t you think? Being able to drive.”
“If one doesn’t question the practicality of the expense that goes with owning a carriage and a driving team.”
“Well, yes, there is that consideration. I was speaking more to the practicality of being able to go where one wished, without having to depend on someone to take you there.”
“Ah, yes, the lure of independence,” he replied.
She couldn’t tell from the tone of his voice whether he thought that was good or bad. If he were like most men, he wouldn’t approve of a lady asserting her independence. Not that society gave females very many opportunities to do so. Regrettably.
“I like to be able to do things for myself. Surely that’s not an unreasonable desire on my part,” she said, suddenly feeling a bit defensive.
They entered the park through the Stanhope Gate and he turned the curricle onto a path that led toward the Serpentine.
“I find it perfectly reasonable,” he said equably. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have taught my sisters to drive.”
“So you think it’s a good thing for a lady to be independent?”
“Is that a trick question?” he asked.
“No. Why would it be?”
“I don’t know.” He gave her an assessing glance. “It seemed like it might be.”
“You still haven’t answered it,” she prompted.
“I suppose it depends on what you mean by independent. If you mean, able to drive herself around in a carriage, you already know the answer to that. If you mean able to form her own opinions, yes, I agree with that also. I’m not one of those men who wants females to agree with my every utterance, and heaven knows my sisters disagree with me often enough. If you’re talking about women being able to retain ownership of property when they marry, I don’t oppose that in principle, but I’d hesitate to support a change in the law until society embraces the notion of educating females in a manner similar to males. An uneducated mind can be taken advantage of too easily. For now, I think the answer must be found in drawing up marriage settlements that keep the wife’s property separate from the husband’s control.”
“There exist educated men who foolishly squander their property,” she pointed out.
“That’s very true, and unfortunate. But not a reason to bolster a married woman’s property rights without laying the groundwork first.” He turned toward her with a slightly apologetic look. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. But Charlotte had been fortunate enough to receive a thorough education, thanks to her father, who’d been something of a gentleman scholar, and it still chafed that, merely by virtue of her sex, she was prohibited from being granted many of the rights enjoyed by men—even those considered fools.
“Have you ever met Lady Serena Wynter?” he asked.
“No, but if she’s part of your social circle, that shouldn’t come as a surprise. After all, we never met before today.”
“I’ll introduce the two of you. Serena has very decided opinions about a great many things, and she’s very independent-minded. I think you’ll like her.”
There was a lull in the conversation as they skirted the northern edge of the park. Tall trees edged the path, birds flew and swooped above them, and the last of the golden daffodils swayed gently in the breeze. Charlotte found it difficult to properly pay attention to the loveliness around her though. Her impatience to take the reins began to grow, now that they were in the park. Finally, when they hadn’t passed another soul for at least five minutes, she said, “Couldn’t we begin the driving lesson soon? Surely this is a good time since there’s no one else about.”
“I’m coming to the same conclusion.” He brought the team to a halt and turned to her with a grin. “Actually, I came to that conclusion about three minutes ago. I was just waiting to see how long it took you to say something.”
She gave him a pointed look. “Your sisters, I presume, thought you a pesky brother.”
He blinked at this non sequitur, then chuckled. “I’m sure at times they did.” He grinned cheekily. “And you know what they say?”
She shook her head.
“Old habits die hard.”
“While that’s undoubtedly true,” she said primly, “perhaps you could squelch your annoying habits for the duration of the lesson.”
He laughed at that. “Most ladies would hasten to assure me I have
no annoying habits, while you’re more likely to start enumerating them.”
“Would you like me to?”
He shook his head. “No, your earlier tongue-lashing was sufficient.”
“Another day then,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.
“Talk like that, and I may change my mind about our lesson.”
“You wouldn’t!” she gasped.
He smirked. “I wouldn’t. I’m only teasing. Old habits, you know.”
“Don’t you have enough sisters to tease that you needn’t torment me as well? I have a brother of my own, thank you very much.” Not that she found Lord Norwood at all brotherlike. It might be better if she did.
He grinned. “It’s true I have plenty of sisters, but it’s also true your eyes sparkle most becomingly when you’re provoked.”
“A poor excuse,” she said. Still, she couldn’t help being pleased by the compliment.
“I suppose it is,” he agreed. “Let’s begin then. Here’s how we’ll proceed. As I’m sure you noticed, I drove with the reins only in my left hand. That’s the correct way to drive so that the right hand is free to employ the whip.”
“Hence, its name, the whip hand,” Charlotte said, trying to contain her impatience. “I do know a little bit about driving, even though I’ve never had the opportunity to do so myself.”
“Yes, well, it’s good you’re not entirely ignorant of the process. However, for our purposes today, I’m going to have you take the reins, one in each hand, while I retain hold of them just behind your hands. Then we’ll start the horses in a walk, and when you feel comfortable, say so, and I’ll let go. The horses know what to do, and will remain in a walk as long as you hold the reins steady. Any questions?”
“It sounds simple enough,” she said. “But shouldn’t we trade places first so that I’m on the right?”
Not the Kind of Earl You Marry Page 3