Darlington stood and extended a hand, and she waited for something to spark in her belly. His mouth wasn’t his best feature—it was rather thin and sulky, now that she got a close look at it—but she was willing to swoon for his cheekbones.
Darlington’s hand snaked out around her waist and he jerked her forward, causing her head to whip back.
“Oh!” she said, startled.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
“I can see that!” Charlotte put her hand on his chest, partly to show him she was ready and partly to slow him down. She smiled politely and Darlington placed his mouth on hers.
His lips were firm and cool, the stars sighed down at them, and the otherworldly glow from the glass jar lit them up as Darlington kissed her slowly. Could she imagine a lifetime like this, hunting insects at night and sketching, his jewelry and her silk mill, making all sorts of things together?
Perhaps itcouldwork, if he taught her how to use a forge—
Darlington broke the kiss. “Lady Charlotte, I… That was…”
He moved to kiss her again, but she stepped back on instinct. “We’ve had a lovely night, my lord. Shall we leave it at that?”
His dark eyes glowed as he stared down at her. “There’s a piece I’m working on thatyouinspired. May I share it with you?”
“Of course. What is—”
“Patience.” He put two fingers over her lips and smiled down at her. “What atremendousartist’s wife you’ll make.”
Charlotte could only stare, and for a moment she shrank.
An artist’swife?
Warrick’s low voice rumbled through her.You’re the artist, of course. Not the muse. Anger roared to life inside her, hotter by far than his kiss. Good God, was Darlington stupid? He still had his fingers on her mouth, shushing her like a child. Didn’t he realize how dangerously close his fingers were to her teeth?
“Speechless, I see,” said Darlington. “Assemble the guests at teatime tomorrow and I’ll present the piece you inspired and the rest of my ideas in the Long Hall.”
Charlotte pushed his hand away. “I’mnotspeechless and I’mnot—”
Darlington took her chin in his hand and shook it back and forth. “Gather them tomorrow at teatime, my little glowworm. I promise it will be worth the wait.”
Charlotte jerked her chin free.
“Tomorrow at teatime,” she agreed sweetly.
She planned to make it memorable indeed.
CHAPTER 21
By the next morning, Charlotte’sanger had cooled, or at least it no longer spewed from her like lava. Darlington constantly interrupted her in favor of the pleasures of his own voice and it was clear he viewed women as one heaving mass of pink. Worse, he seemed to hold the impression that Charlotte would squeeze herself smaller to make room for him. However, if she wanted to correspond and exchange sketches with him in the future, it wouldn’t do toevisceratethe poor fellow.
She contemplated her wardrobe, wondering what to wear to let a man down gently. Should she wear something stark and severe? One never knew with men—Darlington could very well enjoy the stern governess type, or have ideas about spanking. She flatly rejected the idea of an unflattering gown, first because her wardrobe contained no such tragedy, and second, because she refused to dim herself for Darlington. In the end, she reached for a gown in a sunny yellow, just bright enough to offend his eyes.
It did occur to her, as she tucked her legs underneath her on the settee and sipped her second cup of tea with the other ladies of the party, that perhaps she shouldn’t be so happy to chase off her first suitor. The sky might be brilliantly blue and the clouds as fat and contented as cotton puffs, but summer wouldn’t last forever. The queen’s edict still hung over Charlotte’s head, as did Lady Margot’s debt, andthe many snarls at the silk mill, including the unsolved problem of the Jacquard—
Oh, do shut up, Charlotte told herself. There was no point in spoiling a good cup of tea with worries, not when a breeze wafted in from the Long Hall’s many French doors, sunlight bounced off the polished plaster walls, and she was holding one of Gran’s special blue cups, so impossibly fragile that it felt like cradling a robin’s egg in her hands.
She really did feel chirpier, happier, so much moreherselftoday.
“None of the men wanted to come?” asked Alexandra from one of the other settees.
“Your brother looked scandalized when I suggested tea inside instead of a ride to the shore,” Charlotte answered. “He said it was a crime for Englishmen to waste good weather, and took the others off.”
And thank goodness, because the last thing she needed was Warrick in the room, oozingI told you sofrom an armchair.
