She nodded. “I understand. No games tonight, puppy. You are free to do as you wish.”
At that, he proceeded to make passionate love to her, murmured endearments and encouragements replacing commands and begging. While she had always preferred control, she was not averse to giving it up occasionally to relax and enjoy intimacy without thinking or planning her next step. William’s unfettered eagerness was delicious in its own right, too.
In the morning, she woke before him and descended to the dining room to request breakfast, knowing he’d awaken as the bed grew cold.
Isabella arrived within minutes.
Of all mornings. Given her two male guests, Charlotte quickly debated the odds of getting rid of her friend and decided that Belle knew her too well. If she attempted to plead an appointment, her hair being down and casual day dress would give her away. Then Belle would dig in. Instead, she hoped Belle’s commitments would keep the visit short.
Ten minutes later, her hope was dashed when William swung through the doorway. He was shoeless in stockings and trousers. His shirt was unbuttoned, no cravat, waistcoat, or jacket in evidence. Even if he’d been fully dressed, the hour and Belle’s knowledge of him would have given away his identity.
When he caught sight of her visitor, his brows twitched at a woman in servant’s garb sitting with her, but he did not miss a beat. Bowing shallowly, he said, “I beg your pardon.”
Charlotte shook her head and gestured to one of the other place settings, but as she opened her mouth to invite him in, she was overridden.
Belle turned at his voice and grinned so widely, Charlotte thought she might count all her teeth.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. There’d be no peace now.
“Puppy? Puppy!” Belle bounced once. “Ooh, Char…he’s delicious! How could you not have mentioned he was here?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Because I knew you’d react like this. Behave, please, Belle.”
Belle pouted. “You know you can’t make me, right? I’m not as trainable as some…” Her gaze slid sideways.
He blushed.
“Aw, how adorable.” Belle clapped once.
“Stop it. Mind your manners.” Charlotte slapped her friend’s wrist lightly before gesturing. “William, may I introduce my friend, Isabella Rossi? Isabella, Lord Stanton.”
“Madame.” He nodded at Belle, then turned to Charlotte. “Lady Peterborough, would you prefer to have a ladies-only breakfast? I can make myself scarce. We can, uh, have that Latin lesson another time.”
A snort of laughter came from Belle. Dripping sarcasm, she drawled, “Is that what we’re calling it these days? Latin lessons? How quaint.”
He flushed again.
Belle snickered.
“Thank you, William, but no. There is no avoiding Belle; she is a force. And I should like for you to meet my closest friend, although I should have warned you about her atrocious manners.” She glared at her friend again.
As always, Belle ignored her. “So, Lord Stanton, tell me. How do you find wooing our Charlotte?” She leaned forward, head on chin, elbow on the table, eyes sparkling mischievously.
William faltered, looking from one to the other. “As always, I find Mistr-- Lady P the most scintillating of companions. My time with her is always educational.”
Belle laughed outright.
Charlotte tried to stifle her grin, but Belle did not need her reaction to read between the lines given their history. She really ought to have warned William.
His brows rose as he put Isabella’s greeting of “Puppy” together with her chortle.
Charlotte watched him, relieved and a tad surprised when his shoulders dropped and he grinned at Belle. Dropping into his chair, he leaned over to kiss Charlotte’s cheek.
Belle watched avidly.
He winked at his new audience and said, “For all that she has trouble with some of the Latin words, I find it immensely satisfying to get my tongue around certain English…words.”
It was Charlotte’s turn to blush. She frowned at his boldness.
