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Authors: Maggi Andersen
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at her, an odd expression in his eyes. “You remember this?”
“Yes. I think your uncle preferred pigs to people.”
“I do believe you are right.” He put his head back and laughed. She laughed too. It felt so good like they were friends. More like husband and wife. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. They left the room with her feeling slightly flat, wishing he had.
Brigitte waited in the foyer with her velvet cloak. Robert took it from her and placed the cloak around Charity’s shoulders, the fur tickling her chin. “Come, allow me to show you off to society,” he said coolly.
His voice was impersonal and brisk. He’d done it again! Backed away from the intimacy, and was aloof again, and the special moment they’d shared might never have happened. She watched his stiff back as they left the house, and she followed, wondering what might have provoked it.
Charity was pleased at his satisfaction, but she felt she’d become a possession, like this mausoleum of a house with its endless corridors and cold marble columns. Now that her interest in him had grown, would he ever really be interested in her?
As the carriage drove through the London streets, Charity asked Robert to tell her more about King George and Queen Charlotte.
“He’s a good king. He takes a prominent interest in the policies of the government, so much so he annoys his ministers on occasion.”
“Yes, but tell me what they are really like as people. One hears rumors, of course.”
“You mean his illness?” Robert smiled. “He is well at present.
They are good people and devoted to one another.” A gleam entered his eyes. “After all, they have fifteen children.”
Charity felt her cheeks heat and was glad the light in the carriage was dim. He looked at her differently since he’d seen her without her clothes. The expression in his blue eyes made her feel desired and womanly. She wanted to ask him how many children he would like to have, but found she couldn’t say the words. “Tell me more about the king,” she said hurriedly.
“He likes to dress as a farmer and live like one on occasion.”
“He sounds nice.”
Robert raised a brow. “Do you think everyone is nice?”
She made a moue with her mouth. “You’re not always nice, Robert.” She held her breath as he took her hand and pressed a kiss on her gloved palm.
“I’m sorry if that is so. You look very nice tonight. Quite delicious in fact.”
When he flirted, his frank gaze was highly disturbing.
Charity didn’t know how to respond. She turned to the window. “Oh look. The carriage is slowing. We must be here.”
“Indeed we are. Just when things were getting interesting,” Robert said enigmatically.
Why was he more enamored of her in the carriage? Why not in the bedchamber, she thought crossly.
The ball took place in a mansion north of the city, set in acres of formal gardens. Lanterns dressed the trees along the driveway of Fairgrove Hall, and braziers lit up the terraces. Their hostess, Lady Arabella Elphinstone, a fair-haired young widow, greeted them in the vestibule.
“Lady Arabella.” Robert kissed the lady’s fingers. “I’d like you to meet my bride, Lady St Malin.”
“Lady St Malin.” Lady Arabella curtseyed. “How charming you look.”
“As do you, Lady Arabella.” Charity caught the sharp expression of dislike in Lady Arabella’s eyes before she turned to give Robert a flirtatious, intimate smile.
“I had heard the rumor, St Malin, but I must say I did not believe it.” Lady Arabella spoke as if Charity wasn’t present. She opened her fan and fluttered it gracefully like a merry lady, just as Brigitte had demonstrated. “Your uncle was a peculiar man, was he not?” Although she spoke to Robert, her eyes were on Charity.
“Peculiar perhaps, if you aren’t in accordance with his opinions,” Charity said before Robert could answer.
Lady Arabella’s delicate brows rose. “Oh? And what opinions are
“Yes. I think your uncle preferred pigs to people.”
“I do believe you are right.” He put his head back and laughed. She laughed too. It felt so good like they were friends. More like husband and wife. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. They left the room with her feeling slightly flat, wishing he had.
Brigitte waited in the foyer with her velvet cloak. Robert took it from her and placed the cloak around Charity’s shoulders, the fur tickling her chin. “Come, allow me to show you off to society,” he said coolly.
His voice was impersonal and brisk. He’d done it again! Backed away from the intimacy, and was aloof again, and the special moment they’d shared might never have happened. She watched his stiff back as they left the house, and she followed, wondering what might have provoked it.
Charity was pleased at his satisfaction, but she felt she’d become a possession, like this mausoleum of a house with its endless corridors and cold marble columns. Now that her interest in him had grown, would he ever really be interested in her?
As the carriage drove through the London streets, Charity asked Robert to tell her more about King George and Queen Charlotte.
“He’s a good king. He takes a prominent interest in the policies of the government, so much so he annoys his ministers on occasion.”
“Yes, but tell me what they are really like as people. One hears rumors, of course.”
“You mean his illness?” Robert smiled. “He is well at present.
They are good people and devoted to one another.” A gleam entered his eyes. “After all, they have fifteen children.”
Charity felt her cheeks heat and was glad the light in the carriage was dim. He looked at her differently since he’d seen her without her clothes. The expression in his blue eyes made her feel desired and womanly. She wanted to ask him how many children he would like to have, but found she couldn’t say the words. “Tell me more about the king,” she said hurriedly.
“He likes to dress as a farmer and live like one on occasion.”
“He sounds nice.”
Robert raised a brow. “Do you think everyone is nice?”
She made a moue with her mouth. “You’re not always nice, Robert.” She held her breath as he took her hand and pressed a kiss on her gloved palm.
“I’m sorry if that is so. You look very nice tonight. Quite delicious in fact.”
When he flirted, his frank gaze was highly disturbing.
Charity didn’t know how to respond. She turned to the window. “Oh look. The carriage is slowing. We must be here.”
“Indeed we are. Just when things were getting interesting,” Robert said enigmatically.
Why was he more enamored of her in the carriage? Why not in the bedchamber, she thought crossly.
The ball took place in a mansion north of the city, set in acres of formal gardens. Lanterns dressed the trees along the driveway of Fairgrove Hall, and braziers lit up the terraces. Their hostess, Lady Arabella Elphinstone, a fair-haired young widow, greeted them in the vestibule.
“Lady Arabella.” Robert kissed the lady’s fingers. “I’d like you to meet my bride, Lady St Malin.”
“Lady St Malin.” Lady Arabella curtseyed. “How charming you look.”
“As do you, Lady Arabella.” Charity caught the sharp expression of dislike in Lady Arabella’s eyes before she turned to give Robert a flirtatious, intimate smile.
“I had heard the rumor, St Malin, but I must say I did not believe it.” Lady Arabella spoke as if Charity wasn’t present. She opened her fan and fluttered it gracefully like a merry lady, just as Brigitte had demonstrated. “Your uncle was a peculiar man, was he not?” Although she spoke to Robert, her eyes were on Charity.
“Peculiar perhaps, if you aren’t in accordance with his opinions,” Charity said before Robert could answer.
Lady Arabella’s delicate brows rose. “Oh? And what opinions are
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