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She’d wished for a distraction. Who might this be?
Another handsome lord?
Then she shook her head. So foolish. It was likely nothing more than a merchant. Or a farmer from the village.
But as the door swung open, a massive man entered the foyer.
Her gaze started at the tall black hessians that were polished to a shine and encased massive calves. Her eyes continue
d higher, noting the tightness of his breeches, his muscular thighs.
Charlie let her gaze trail higher to his broad chest, strong shoulders, and thick neck. Her gaze finally settled on his jet-black hair, glinting in the candlelight. His stern features were set in serious lines that she’d recognize anywhere.
In front of her stood the Baron of Balstead.
She barely managed to hold in her gasp. She knew the man. She’d even danced with him once. He’d held her waist with a possessive power that had left her breathless. Where other men showered attention on her, he’d captured all hers with a single glance.
But their dance had never been repeated.
He’d never so much as looked at her again.
“Good evening,” the butler gave a stiff bow.
“Good evening,” he replied, handing the man a card. “I apologize for the lateness of my arrival, but I am hoping you might deliver this to the man of the house.”
With a curt nod, the butler turned and headed back up the stairs. Charlie ducked deeper into the shadows until he’d passed and then she hurried into the light, stopping at the top of the stairs.
Looking down, her gaze clashed with Balstead’s. “It’s you,” she uttered, quite without meaning to.
His eyes dark and unreadable, his lips turned down into a marked frown. “It’s me.”
* * *
“Damn it all to bloody hell,” Raithe muttered under his breath as he looked at none other than Lady Charlotte Summerset. The little brunette minx had played a starring role in more than one of his dreams of late, not that he was happy to see her.
There was no place in his life for such a woman. Not anymore.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, standing on the last step of the grand stair, a glass of bubbling champagne resting delicately in her tapered fingers.
He took in the silky mass of hair piled on top of her head, her grey-green hazel eyes, large and fringed with long dark lashes. Her pert little nose accentuated by a flush of pink cheeks and those lips so…lush and full they made a man ache.
His dreams hadn’t done her justice.
Charlie, as her brother called her, was the sort of woman who shined wherever she went. Droves of people seemed to follow her about just to bask in her glow. He wasn’t one of them.
“I came,” he drawled, “because I was hosting a party and the majority of my guest list failed to attend.”
Her brows arched as she cocked her head to the side, stepping down off the final step. Which brought his gaze sliding down her body. Petite, certainly, but still lush. Her hips swayed as she walked, practically hypnotizing him.
“A party? And I wasn’t invited?” She stuck out her bottom lip even as a teasing smile played about her lips.
She slid closer and he straightened, preparing for the onslaught of her nearness. He’d been this close to her once before as he’d held her tiny waist in his hand.
She’d made him feel…well, the sort of feelings he’d thought long dead. “It’s not a party for the likes of you.”
She stopped, one of her shoulders rising. “Not a party for me? I like all sorts of parties.”
Raithe narrowed his gaze. He should have known that Charlie might be here. He’d attempted to lure several lords out to his country estate with the promise of delightful debauchery.
