One Week to Wed

by Laurie Benson

  ‘Very good, my lord,’ the footman replied with a tip of his head. And before either could protest, the man took a few steps back and closed the door on them, once more leaving them alone.

  ‘I do believe your friend has given her staff specific instructions this morning that we are not to be disturbed.’

  ‘I do believe you might be correct in your assumption. I am truly sorry.’

  Stretching out his arm, he motioned for them to return to the table. ‘It will not be the first time I have been a target because of my bachelor status.’

  ‘There are those who might see our presence in this room together as rather scandalous,’ she replied, taking her seat.

  He paused before sitting down. ‘Do you believe your friend will make it known in the village we spent time alone like this?’

  ‘Heavens, no.’

  The brief sense of panic that flashed in his eyes cleared and he sat down. ‘That’s reassuring to hear, because if there were to be a scandal about me, I would hope it would be a bit more exciting than just taking breakfast alone with you.’ Lord Andrew’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

  His teasing made her smile. ‘Are you referring to other closed-door escapades?’

  ‘Well, considering the conditions outside, I suppose one would be forced to remain inside behind closed doors...unless one was eager to get wet...outside.’ There was a wicked glint in his eye and a slight curve to his mouth. He arched his brow, silently challenging her to respond. There was no lecherous leer to his lips—no intimidation with the posture of his impressive form. He appeared to be a man who enjoyed playful conversation.

  ‘I’ve found I prefer a bit of solitude behind closed doors.’

  ‘Because you simply haven’t found the right company, my lady,’ he said with a knowing smile, making her grin.

  ‘And do you find many people whose company you enjoy, my lord?’

  ‘Surprisingly, not many. I am rather discerning, if you must know. And I much prefer the company of a single companion to many.’ His gaze seemed to penetrate her. ‘There is something about devoting your complete attention to one person that I find utterly satisfying.’

  Charlotte had not thought about having sex in years. That part of her life was over...and yet suddenly she was imagining what this man’s touch would feel like and what it would be like to be the focus of his attentive ministrations. ‘Surely your attention wavers a bit.’

  Slowly, he shook his head, all the while never breaking their gaze. ‘If we are playing in hypotheticals and you are the company I am with, I can assure you that you would have my complete undivided attention. And I would be most eager to engage in any activity of your choosing. Especially if it did involve getting wet.’

  It was becoming difficult to take a deep breath. She must have tied her stays too tight this morning. She should end this conversation now. It was beyond improper and she had had no experience in discourse such as this even while she had been married. But his playful safe smile drew her back. ‘What a gallant companion you would be,’ she replied, ‘but I have no wish to cause you any hardship against your will.’

  His lips twitched with amusement. ‘I would gladly suffer through any hardship for you, my lady. I believe the experience would be most fulfilling.’

  The imagine of him filling her made her intimate places tingle. This man was the devil—but she didn’t want it to end. She glanced out of the window and gave a dramatic sigh. ‘I imagine getting wet outside would be such an inconvenience...hypothetically speaking.’

  ‘If the gardener was present, I would agree.’

  She let out a low laugh and pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold in the rest. The corners of his eyes creased as he took a sip from his cup and turned to the window. It was raining harder now, obscuring the view of the gardens.

  A flush of heat rose up her neck and she stared down at her empty cup.

  ‘Do not fear I will try to coax you out into the rain, Lady Charlotte. I know your comments were made in jest.’

  Did that mean he didn’t want to get her wet outside? Why did that notion leave her feeling dispirited? She had never considered having sex outside her bedchamber—at least not before he mentioned it. And if people did have sex outside, where would they have it? Were people really so inclined...not that she was...or ever would be...or would ever be in a position to engage in such an activity...but still, where would one do something like that? She hadn’t thought about sex in years. Now suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  ‘Are you certain you are not hungry?’ he asked, cutting into his bacon, apparently unaffected by their conversation. ‘It really is quite good.’

  She leaned towards his plate, surveying the crispy pieces. She needed to focus on food, not sex. ‘Were they all that well done or just those you have graciously taken?’

  He studied the piece on his fork. ‘I’d say half were like this.’

  It really did smell so good and smoky, and her stomach had settled down. Now it felt as if it would rumble with hunger any minute.

  Which it did, to her mortification.

  ‘Are you one of those women who survives on toast and tea? I assure you a hardier breakfast will do you no harm.’

  He didn’t have to convince her of that. She enjoyed starting the day with something rather robust. She stood and walked to the sideboard. The smoky aroma was so tempting. She selected the crispiest pieces from the china platter along with two slices of fluffy bread and went back to the table.

  Lord Andrew had been skimming the paper next to him, but when she sat down he examined her plate with a smile. ‘That’s much better. I honestly do not know how some women sustain themselves on so little food.’

  ‘I enjoy the taste of food too much to survive on toast and tea, as you so aptly phrased it. You may go back to reading the paper. I will not consider it discourteous, although with the weather as it is, I assume that is not today’s edition.’

  ‘It isn’t, but I did ask to see any papers that were about. I thought it would give me a glimpse of what has been happening here.’

  Charlotte cut into the meat and her mouth began to water. ‘I’ve read the London papers on occasion. I doubt you will find anything of interest to you in those editions.’

  ‘How can you be certain? Copies of the Observer are circulated in London and I’ve read about the unrest due to Parliamentary repression.’

  ‘Are you a Member of Parliament, Lord Andrew?’

  ‘No, I am a mere second son.’

  She put her fork down and wiped her lips. He bore no military title. He must be one of the wastrels who spent their days at the gaming clubs and lived off their family’s money, while men like her husband gave their lives to ensure he was able to live his life under British rule. ‘I would think a man with your title coming from London would have no interest in what happens up here. Unless your interest is purely because you are staying here.’

  ‘I should remind you, Lady Charlotte, although we shared an amusing conversation, you do not know me.’

  ‘This is true. I do not. But famine and unemployment do not seem to be an interesting topic for a privileged bachelor from London.’

  She was being rude. She knew it, but was unable to stop. Perhaps her testy emotions with him had something to do with the feelings of desire he was stirring inside her—feelings she needed to forget. To him it was all a game. Meanwhile for Charlotte it was... She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but there was no denying she didn’t like him as much now as she had before. It was easier for her to deal with him if she painted him in a poor light.

  ‘And how do you know these things do not interest me?’ he asked while wrinkling his forehead.

  Jonathan’s brothers had never expressed interest in those outside their social circle and the London bachelors Lizzy wrote to her about were only interested in game and drink.
‘You yourself said last night that you came here seeking pleasant conversation with your friend and bucolic pastures for riding. The state of the people who have inhabited this area for generations did not draw you here.’

  ‘Like it did Mr Hunt.’

  Her spine stiffened. ‘Mr Hunt, and men who write for that paper, are champions for a people who could use one. Mr Hunt has done nothing wrong.’

  ‘His speeches on Parliamentary reform have instigated riots.’

  ‘That is not true. He believes if enough of us speak our minds, then change can happen without violence. Violent actions are not the answer to the problems faced by people who live in this area.’

  ‘One could assume with your title, my lady, you would not have an interest in the plight of the common man.’

  ‘I am a widow, Lord Andrew. Famine and financial hardship can appear at my door as well as at the merchants, farmers and factory workers here. What happens to my neighbour down the lane could easily befall me.’

  ‘You could marry again.’

  ‘But I won’t. We need equal and proper representation in Parliament. Something we do not have. We need people who will champion our interests there. Do not condemn those who are fighting for their right to feed and clothe their families.’

  ‘I have not spoken of condemning them.’

  ‘But you have strong opinions of Mr Hunt. I saw it in your eyes.’ Charlotte had no use for entitled self-centred gentlemen like Lord Andrew. It was probably best she had found out about his true nature. He had her recalling the activities of the marriage bed—activities that were best left forgotten. She hadn’t lied to him. She would not marry again and the less tempted she was to touch the man across from her, the better off she would be.

  Chapter Six

  Andrew sat back in his chair and watched Lady Charlotte cut into the bacon that had tasted so good a few minutes before. Now, he had no stomach for it. It appeared he’d lost his opportunity to ask her about the unrest in the area since she did not look eager to enter into a genial discussion with him again.

  He didn’t like the picture she had drawn of him in the brief time they had spoken. He had been enjoying her company immensely before their discussion took a decidedly serious turn. He tried to recall how that happened. There was no denying she had also felt that pull between them. She might deny wanting to go out in the rain and explore each other’s bodies, but he knew she had been considering it. Now, if he wasn’t mistaken, she thought him an entitled prig.

  Instead of turning back to read the papers, he watched her top her toast with strawberry jam. When she delicately licked some of the jam from her finger, Andrew’s thoughts drifted to their conversation about the rain...and getting her wet.

  He wasn’t a man to openly engage in flirtatious conversations with women. It was not something he ever bothered with. Yet there was something about this woman that made his thoughts and words form without his intent and he found he was flirting before he knew it.

  She was a combination of beauty and brains, mixed with something he could not name that had him thinking about her more than he should have done last night after he left the drawing room with Toby. For him, that was dangerous. She was a complication he didn’t need. His job was to protect King George and the Prince Regent from harm. His duty was above all else. His father had formed the organisation that Gabriel now managed and taught him that having a clear focus on his objective was essential for being effective at what he did. He had also taught him to trust no one and suspect everyone. And Andrew had come to understand how important that advice was.

  His Uncle Peter had somehow become radicalised about Catholic emancipation. His beliefs were such that he’d resorted to violence to prevent information from reaching Gabriel. He had killed Andrew’s friend Matthew so the agent couldn’t deliver his information about a group of extremists in Ireland who had targeted Prinny and he was prepared to kill Gabriel as well, until Andrew stopped him. Andrew had sensed a change in him and had spoken to Gabriel about it before Peter left for his mission with Matthew, but he never considered his uncle would be capable of killing his family and friends. It made him question the character of everyone he met.

  Lady Charlotte appeared outraged when he implied Mr Hunt might be fond of violent actions to achieve his goal. But he hadn’t been around her long enough to get a sense of her true character. Their discussion seemed to have no impact on her appetite as she ate her toast and ignored him. What a country widow thought of him shouldn’t matter. Soon he would return to London. The safety of the Crown was paramount. There were missions that needed his attention. In the meantime, he was helping himself feel productive by looking into any leads he could find about political unrest in the area and searching out the names of people who could be a threat to the Crown. When he left Cheshire, he would not be coming back—and he would never see her again.

  Andrew was about to resume reading the paper and pretend she didn’t exist when Toby and his wife finally entered the room, followed by a footman. Mrs Knightly did not even try to hide her joy at seeing him sitting alone with her friend.

  ‘How lovely to see you both enjoying breakfast together,’ she said, taking a seat beside him at the table.

  How long would it take before the woman realised the only thing keeping them in the same room together were those crispy pieces of bacon?

  ‘Did you both sleep well?’ she asked, placing her napkin on her lap, as another footman arrived with a pot of chocolate.

  ‘I did, once the thunderstorm had passed,’ Lady Charlotte replied, staring pointedly at the footman as he poured some of the fragrant liquid into Mrs Knightly’s cup. ‘And thank you for insisting I take your shawl. I find it has grown rather cold.’ She glanced at Andrew and her expression reinforced the subtle gibe.

  ‘Why did you not instruct them to put another log on the fire?’ Mrs Knightly motioned to the footman by the door and that man went about the task. Then she turned to Andrew with a friendly smile. ‘I hope your room is to your liking and you slept well.’

  He managed not to scowl because of the foul mood he suddenly found himself in. ‘It is. The bed is quite comfortable.’ There was no sense in elaborating. The comfort of his mattress had no bearing on his sleep. He never slept well.

  Toby had settled himself at the head of the table with a plate full of food. It was a wonder he did not weigh as much as the Prince Regent if that was how much he ate in the morning. Conversely, Mrs Knightly appeared to have no appetite at all, not even for toast.

  She glanced from Andrew to Lady Charlotte and then back to Andrew, playing with her cup in its saucer. ‘I understand you live in a bachelor’s establishment in London called Albany. Are you able to get a restful night’s sleep with people coming in and out at all hours there? Lady Charlotte lives not far from here in a lovely home with views of scenic fields. It’s quite peaceful there.’

  Lady Charlotte put her fork and knife down very deliberately, but kept her attention on her plate.

  Andrew was glad Lady Charlotte would not be staying at Knightly Hall long. If he had to continually dodge Mrs Knightly’s comments about her friend, it would get exhausting. ‘I assure you the noises and disturbances are kept to a minimum. All the gentlemen who have sets there are very respectful of each other’s privacy and comfort.’

  ‘Is it true women are not allowed on the premises?’

  Mrs Knightly must have interrogated Toby about him. He wondered what else she knew. Due to the secret nature of his work, her investigations on him were not welcome even though Toby was not privy to that part of his life. He glanced at his friend, who only gave him a slight shrug.

  ‘Yes, that’s true. Women are not permitted in the building.’

  ‘What a fine way to ensure no wickedness takes place within its walls. The residents must be all very honourable men, wouldn’t you say, Charlotte?’

  Lady Charlo
tte nodded, but her attention was on the contents of her teacup. She really had taken a poor measure of him.

  His life was all about nobility and honour—protecting the Crown by sacrificing a life for himself. Regardless of what she thought of him, he knew his life was consumed by noble actions. Hell, one of the reasons he was up here was because ensuring order was so important to him, he couldn’t stop.

  And why did it even matter to him what she thought?

  He had lost his appetite and had no desire to make polite conversation, but he knew he was now forced to sit there until everyone else was finished with breakfast. And by the amount of food on Toby’s plate, that could be quite a while. He would just make certain when they all left the room, he would avoid Lady Charlotte for the remainder of her time at Toby’s house.

  Once the roads were deemed passable she would be gone. While he had no doubt the Duchess of Skeffington was seeking out his presence in London, he also knew Lady Charlotte couldn’t get away from him fast enough. In a few days, he would barely recall the green of her eyes and those soft lips. She would be a faint memory of this trip, if that.

  Chapter Seven

  Charlotte had successfully put all thoughts of Lord Andrew out of her head when, to her displeasure, Ann had brought up his name while they strolled the grounds of Oakwood House during the annual fair a few days later. It was one event she looked forward to each year when townspeople and the surrounding gentry were invited on to the grounds of the stately home of Mr Ellswith to partake in a day of festivities. The sun was shining. The day was warm. And she had no wish to relive the last time she saw the man.

  She strolled with Ann under the trees on the hill overlooking the back of the house, past the stalls with items made by local women and craftspeople. The smell of lamb roasting on open spits mixed with the scent of fresh grass brought back fond memories of her childhood when all three Sommersby sisters would explore their local fair together. She had never attended any fairs with Jonathan. When they were younger, he found them frivolous and, after he entered the army, he preferred to stay away from large crowds.