Page 31 of Falling for a Footman

“I suppose I’m adequate at playing the piano but nothing more. I enjoy music though both playing it and hearing it. I went to several concerts while I was in London and to the opera. It was my favorite form of entertainment in London, beside the lending libraries obviously.”

She bit her lips as she realized that she had revealed too much. Even if he had had a more privileged upbringing, he would certainly not be able to attend a private concert or the opera in his current situation.

“I think you are more than adequate at playing,” James stated. His compliment threw her off and she did not know what to say. She had been meaning to ask him questions about himself, but right now they had all disappeared from her mind.

“I thought all young ladies were eager to go to the balls in London and did not go for the concerts and the lending libraries,” James asked when she did not speak. His voice held traces of both mirth and genuine curiosity.

Charlotte shrugged. She had been entertained by the balls at first: the more splendid the better. But after a couple of months, they had started to blend together, and she had felt how being constantly surrounded by people night after night would drain her.

“At the end of the season it did not seem to matter whose ball we were at; all the same people were there.”

God, she felt spoiled for saying that. For someone like James it would be unachievable to ever participate in a ball among the ton. Unless he was serving the drinks.

“Will you go back next year?”

Charlotte glanced up at James. He had clearly taken charge of asking the questions now. It did not escape her notice that he would rather talk about her than him.

“I must go back,” she stated with all the regret of it.

She had to find a husband somehow and being in town for the season and being presented to all the eligible bachelors was the easiest and fastest way. The reluctance had to have been evident in her voice because he gently took her hand in his and she could not help but draw in an audible breath at his touch. His ungloved hands were warm, and she had the strangest sense of being anchored as his hand closed around hers. This was not why she had come, however. Was it his turn to try to distract her with a touch? She took a step away from him and reluctantly withdrew her hand from his warm grasp.

“We can’t,” she breathed.

“No,” James simply said.

He sounded calm, composed. If he was disappointed, there was not a muscle in his body, that betrayed it. Charlotte stepped further away from him. She had come tonight because she felt it important to know more about him. She had come because she wanted answers and to have them, she needed to be the one asking the questions.

“What is your relationship with the Marquis of Riplingham?” she asked and stared at him to gauge his reaction.

James shrugged and twitched at the same time as looking intently at her.

“As I told you I used to work at his estate in Suffolk,” he answered and shrugged again.

Charlotte contemplated how much to tell him. On the one hand if she told him that she knew his mother worked for the marquis, despite him stating that his sister was all the only family that he had, and that the Marquis of Riplingham franked the letters his mother sent him she would expose that she had gone through his belongings, but if she didn't disclose that fact, she would have no leverage against him and not be able to have her answers tonight.

“And is that all he is to you?” she prodded, thinking it would be better not to disclose her knowledge at the moment.

James walked towards her. There was a purpose in his steps that Charlotte did not like. The gleam in his eyes was not actually threatening but also not the friendly gaze she had seen there before. Involuntarily she took a step back as he reached out to place his hands on her shoulders. He seemed to catch himself at her movement and took a deep breath, before lowering his arms.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” James declared as he kept his arms by his side. Charlotte could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“I know. I’m sorry...” Charlotte whispered and ran her hand over her mouth.

She had been looking at one of the dark horn buttons on his jacket but forced herself to raise her gaze and look into his eyes. They still seemed completely dark but the look that she had thought threatening before was gone. They were back to the friendly hue with a depth and a promise of something more under the surface. Just like the ocean. It was what had first captivated her. Charlotte could feel herself relax again. Whatever had agitated him previously was gone.

Another step brought James into her private sphere and once again he reached his hands out. This time Charlotte did not retreat, and his hands landed on her upper arms as he took the last minuscule step towards her. It was not an embrace and yet it was so awfully intimate at the same time. She could feel his hot breath on her face and the heat from his hands through her dress.

Unsure where to place her own hands, she ended up holding on to the pockets of his jacket. It would prevent him from stepping away, but it was not exactly touching him. Not yet. Not in the way she ached to do. They were still looking intently into each other’s eyes and even though Charlotte knew that James was not telling the truth about his relationship with the Marquis of Riplingham, the more prevalent fact that he was so close and that it felt so natural dominated all of her senses.

“Charlotte,” James whispered and ran his thumb over her cheek.

She nodded but the lump in her throat of equal parts excitement and nervousness prevented her from uttering a word.

“Charlotte,” he whispered again, his voice hoarse, his lips just an inch from hers. Charlotte simply nodded again. Her breath seemed caught in her throat.

He leaned forward but his lips were still not on hers. They simply hovered there, just above hers. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, smell the scent of his skin, a mixture of soap and something musky. Him. She wanted to bury her nose at his neck and breath in deeply. She wanted him to kiss her and never stop. Why did he not? Why was he simply standing there? She wanted to scream with frustration. She could not understand what he was waiting for until she looked into his eyes and saw the expectant look and she realized that he was waiting for her. He was waiting for her to close the distance between them and show him that she wanted to kiss him as well. Without hesitation Charlotte leaned forward and closed the gap between them.

Soft, wet, yet with a certain greedy note to it, the kiss felt even better than their first kiss in his room and their second one yesterday. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she felt surer now. James hugged her tightly to him, his hands roaming her back, running into the hair at her neck that was not braided, then back down the length of her stopping right before he reached her bottom.