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“And you are definitively not a rake?”
He rubbed his face with his palm, likely internally shaming himself for having lost his control. “Not…not typically, no.”
“Oh my, Lord Holdford. With such saccharine words, I am sure you will sweep me off my feet in no time,” she mocked him.
“I will, um,” he cleared his throat, still cloaked in the shadows. “I will call on you in the morning to mark my intent to start a courtship.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose, surprised at how easy it was to resume their back and forth even after a passionate moment. “Maybe…” she paused. “You do not have to do that. Maybe we are better off just…” she swatted at the air. “Moving onward. I am afraid you may lose if I am being honest.” She was not being honest. Something in her chest was starting to act up and the miserable realization that it might have been that easy to develop an interest in someone. The feeling was bearing down heavily on her.
“Oh no, no,” he replied, straightening his cravat. “We are just getting started and I am not even close to forfeiting. Are you?”
“No,” she interjected quickly. “Not at all.”
“Perfect,” he said. “Then I will see you tomorrow.”
“Absolutely perfect,” she whispered, gritting her teeth. She lifted her skirts and ran off back into the night in search of the specific bush she foolishly left her shoes in. Her brain was so addled at this point, she’d be lucky to so much as remember her own name.
She shouldn’t have done it, but it sounded so cathartic when William had cursed under his breath earlier, so she took the liberty and indulged herself. It sounded quite crass coming from her lips, but it felt good.
This was bound to be a night she would relive for a very long time, but she wasn’t sure if it was simply because it made her heart race and her skin prickle or if it was because she was already too deep to let go, but too stubborn to forfeit.
