Page 69 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Nash had been so kind and attentive of late, Charlotte had become hard pressed to summon reasons why she should not give in and simply agree to marry him. Her father’s involvement, of course, galled her, and she’d love to refuse all thoughts of marriage with Nash solely to set up her father’s bristles. She couldn’t quite convince herself to do that, however. Nash had managed to become rather dear to her.

Just then, Lord Brack and another handsome young man, with deep brown hair and stormy-gray eyes that danced with merriment, appeared in the doorway.

“Lord Brack and Lord St. Just.” Fisk turned and gave way to the two striking gentlemen.

Brack smiled immediately and strode over to Charlotte near the window. “My lady, I am delighted to see you again.” He bowed and his smile broadened. “I am also very pleased to present Lord St. Just. He was at Eton with me and we made a tour of Italy together. Lord St. Just, Lady Cavendish. Our most amiable hostess.”

The young man with the unusual eyes laughed and bowed. “I am delighted to meet you, my lady. And very grateful for your kind invitation.” He glanced at his companion, then back to her, mischief lighting up his face. “I am to meet the fairest of the fair here, according to Brack. And I see he has told the truth for once.” St. Just took her hand and pressed a not-so-brief kiss onto it.

Charlotte bit back a laugh and reclaimed her hand. St. Just would make the weekend quite lively, she had no doubt. “You are most welcome here, my lord. I was only too happy to include you in our party.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him boldly. “Even more so now that we have met. I do hope you will enjoy yourself and the company.”

St. Just’s eyes widened and she chuckled to herself. She’d never have done such a thing, even before her marriage. Independence had given her a new perspective, a new confidence in herself. She had no more interest in this young man than she had had in Fernley, although this one promised to be more fun to flirt with because he knew a game when he saw one. Definitely a welcome addition to the weekend’s festivities. The man was a charmer, through and through.

“Is Mrs. Easton here this weekend, my lady?” Brack could not disguise the eagerness in his voice.

Charlotte smiled and gestured toward the sofa. “She is indeed, my lord. Will you introduce your friend or shall I?”

“That will be my pleasure.” His gaze darted toward Elizabeth and his eyes sparkled. “Come on, Rob. You must meet this most enchanting creature . . .” Brack bowed and turned to shepherd his friend over to the sofa.

She chuckled softly. Brack certainly seemed smitten. Pray God Elizabeth returned his feelings in some measure. It would be such a brilliant match for her.

As Brack and St. Just moved off, another arrival took their place.

“Lord Kersey,” Fisk intoned.

Charlotte’s heart stuttered, then beat so quickly blood rushed to her face. She glanced up to find the earl, elegantly attired in black, towering over her. My, had he always been so tall? Almost menacing. Why did she not remember that? Nash stood at a comfortable six feet. Had she gotten used to that height? She shook her head and smiled as she extended her hand to him.

“How lovely to see you again, my dear Charlotte,” he said, bending over her hand and pressing warm lips to her flesh.

“Y . . . yes, it is wonderful to have you here again, my lord.” She quietly removed her hand from his. It would not do to be rude to a guest, even one she hadn’t wanted to invite.

The look in his eyes helped not at all. They had fastened on her the moment Brack had moved away, devouring her with the hungry expression of a wolf eyeing a rabbit. Did he think to make her his prey tonight? The thought set her to trembling. His presence had never sent such trepidation through her before, but something in his manner now bespoke purpose.

“Am I the last to arrive?” He scanned the full room until his gaze rested again on her.

“Why, yes, I believe you are, although Lord Wrotham will be joining us for dinner.” Charlotte hurried on now that his predatory gaze had softened. “You are, however, in good time. Dinner is at six, as usual.”

Alan glanced to the clock on the mantelpiece. “Ah. It is but four o’clock. We have time at hand.”

The innocuous words sent a shiver through Charlotte. Time at hand for what?

“Might I claim you for a short tour of the house?” His eyes deepened to darkest blue.

Oh, no. Her stomach twisted. She could not be alone with this man.

“I fear I was unable to properly appreciate your beautiful appointments the last time I was here.” A flicker of amusement lit his face. “Would you care to show me what I missed?”

Charlotte doubted the house held any charms for this rakehell. “I would be happy to accommodate you. Let me see if Lord St. Just would like to accompany us. He has never—”

“I believe he is otherwise engaged with Lady Georgina.” He indicated the group before the fireplace. Georgie was indeed chatting animatedly with St. Just, whose attention seemed fixed on her with a decided intensity. It would be a shame to interrupt such a promising match.

Charlotte turned back to Alan, who grinned wickedly.

“I would love to steal you away all to myself for just a few minutes. I’m sure your guests won’t mind.”

But she would. Her gaze strayed to the grouping of miniatures on the wall beside the fireplace, three in total now. The third one Nash had delivered earlier this week on his way to London, a beautiful view from the clock tower. Although she hadn’t decided what to do about her feelings for him, she knew she felt nothing for the man before her. Still, she was his hostess, like it or not. She would spare a few moments to show him the house, and perhaps find a way to indicate her lack of interest.

“I’m sure they will not,” Charlotte said, taking his arm and allowing him to lead her from the room. They headed toward the back of the house, stopping to peep into the formal receiving room, the study, her office. Arriving at the library, Charlotte simply waved her hand toward the open door. That was one memory she wanted to avoid.