Chapter Twelve #2
Nothing like when she touched Adam and her veins heated with longing.
Charlene rose, her movements faltering as her brother’s friend’s attention shifted to the book she carried.
His gaze, unpressed but curious, lingered on the faded brown leather cover.
Maddie, seemingly unfazed, cleared her throat, retrieved the book, and extended the volume toward the table, but Mr. Grafton tilted his head slightly and read aloud the embossed title as if it were merely an afterthought.
“Handbook on Matters of Seduction and the Heart,” he said, his voice even, polished, yet far from mocking. A faint smile played at his mouth. “Odd title for a reference book. And yet,” he paused meaningfully, glancing at Charlene, “full of promise, I should think.”
Charlene flushed when her brother turned his sharp eyes to her, before he said to his friend, clapping him on the shoulder, “Henry, make yourself at home as my guest. I have an engagement I must attend to. I’ll return before dinner.”
Hah!
“Of course,” Mr. Grafton replied, inclining his head.
“Your hospitality is already most evident.” His eyes flicked back to Charlene, the corner of his mouth curving into something that felt both kind and, dare she say, teasing?
“I can see that tea with the ladies will be exceedingly entertaining. Particularly if they’re inclined to share such interesting reference materials.
” He nodded slightly toward the book still clutched in Maddie’s hands, who promptly shuffled the book beneath her bottom with an air of forced nonchalance.
Despite her outward composure, her cheeks flushed a terrible shade of scarlet, nearly as brilliant as Charlene’s own.
“No such materials will be shared, I assure you, Mr. Grafton,” Maddie declared, her voice unshakable despite the ludicrous picture she made perched above the incriminating book.
Charlene could barely breathe, her mortification swelling to unbearable heights. Could there possibly be a more laughable moment? Her brother’s arms folded across his chest, looking just slightly amused now that he seemed to catch the tail-end of whatever chaos Mr. Grafton’s comment had stirred.
“Well, Charlene,” Waylon said lightly, “as the lady of the house, I trust you’ll continue to extend our hospitality. See that Henry has everything he needs, won’t you?” Without waiting for confirmation, he gave a slight bow to the group and left the room.
Waylon!
Heat surged across her face, reaching her temples, and surely it made her appear as crimson as the poppies embroidered on her tea towel. Could anything be worse than this? Not only were her feelings already in a hopeless mess, but now she was to entertain Mr. Grafton, of all people.
Her hands darted to her empty teacup, fingers fumbling at the saucer’s edge. She wished desperately for access to a magician’s trickery, to dissolve into thin air and retreat unnoticed. Yet here she was, clumsy and exposed in a way she never seemed to be around Adam.
Why was that?
With Adam, somehow, her guard lowered. For some reason, she never felt scrutinized around him, never felt less than herself.
The thought of Adam made her cheeks flush.
While Henry held charm in spades and everyone else in the room seemed enraptured by him, her heart still turned, unbidden, toward the man who truly left her breathless for reasons beyond mere appearances. Adam made her feel steady when all else wavered. How maddening, how utterly maddening…
“Ah, Charlene,” Ashley’s voice broke in, laced with teasing amusement.
“I’m afraid I must depart.” She flattened an imaginary wrinkle of her gown.
“Maddie, come and I shall escort you home in my carriage.” Then she nodded in Charlene’s direction with an arched brow.
“I suppose it only makes sense. You’ve a particular flair for hospitality? ”
“The book is completely irrelevant,” Charlene blurted out, but her words did nothing to abate the laughter that rippled through her small audience. “I’ll show you to the dining room; lunch should be served by now.”
Maddie, for her part, remained planted firmly on the scandalous tome, her posture so stiff one might mistake her for an immovable statue.
Charlene glanced toward the door, deciding whether to run away or not.
“Shall we go, Mr. Grafton?” she asked, her tone clipped and brisk in hopes of ending this agony swiftly. Ashley and Maddie rose to follow them.
“The honor is mine, Lady Charlene,” he said with such unassailable politeness.
And as Charlene led him to the dining room, her face aflame, her thoughts betrayed her once again, circling back to Adam.
How was it possible to miss someone so acutely?
How was it possible that a simple memory of him could outshine all else?
Whatever charm Mr. Grafton held, Adam had already captured her attention in his quiet, unassuming way.
There was no uncapturing it. For the moment, at least.
But then Ashley tugged Maddie’s arm and they stayed back.
“Charlene, we must take the carriage.” Ashley gave a meaningful nod. “Maddie just reminded me that we need to purchase more ribbon for the invitations.”
Maddie nodded vigorously.
Oh, please!
“You really ought to stay,” Maddie added primly, though her lips twitched as if fighting a smile. “It’s only proper that you do as hostess. We, however, must take our leave.”
“I hardly think he requires more than my hospitality,” Charlene muttered weakly, wishing with every fiber of her being for the earth to simply swallow her whole. Yet the others, evidently delighted by the notion, paid her protests no mind.
“Nonsense,” Ashley chimed in. “You must stay.” Her laughter, light and musical, draped easily across the room, only deepening Charlene’s humiliation.
“I would be honored to have luncheon with just you,” Mr. Grafton interjected smoothly, his tone so perfectly genteel it only worsened Charlene’s plight.
His gaze, steady and warm, met hers briefly.
“Lady Charlene, if you’ll be so kind.” As expected of any well-mannered guest, he offered a slight bow, though the twinkle in his eye suggested he hadn’t missed the chaos of implication surrounding them.
But all she could think of was how she wished she could see Adam again.
*
For better or worse, Charlene Fielding had claimed his thoughts. No amount of duty, however pressing, could distract him from that truth.
Adam swung open the broad, iron-bound door of the family estate, his every step echoing with restraint as he sought to keep his balance—not physically, but emotionally.
The memory of Charlene, warm and vivid, tangled with the calm that had momentarily settled over him after kissing her.
Her startled eyes, the soft press of her lips…
Such thoughts could undo a man. He was certain it already had.
“?Adam! Por fin!”
His musings were jolted by his mother’s voice. She moved toward him, her jewel-toned skirts swishing unhurriedly but purposefully. Her arms opened wide, as if he were still a small boy returning from a romp in the fields instead of a grown man wishing to escape further chaos.
“Mother,” he greeted evenly, stepping forward to drop a kiss on her offered cheek, braced for the way she would firmly grasp his shoulders and beam up at him with both pride and impatience.
Carmen Cross, formidable in stature despite her shorter height, held him in place for a beat too long, her dark eyes narrowing as though seeking something unspoken.
“Hijo,” she said dramatically, as was her way, “you look too thin. You’ve been working yourself to stone. No one will marry a statue, Adam! Have you even eaten today? You must sit and take chocolate with us.”
Before he could muster a reply, she turned and clapped her hands sharply, startling a footman who had frozen mid-bow.
“You! Go and see that our excellent cook prepares something for Adam. Now.” She turned to a lady in a burgundy gown and gave an indulgent smile.
“We’ve had the same cook for over twenty years, and she truly knows our ways. ”
“I assure you, Mother, I’m well,” Adam managed, even as a kitchen maid rushed past with a tray clearly pilfered from the tea table.
“Well?” she repeated, tossing her hands in exasperation.
“This is British modesty nonsense. Bah! Look at him.” She gestured to no one in particular, as though seeking confirmation from the walls themselves.
“Fine. Fine! He doesn’t see what a sorry sight he is.
Good thing Miss Martin has arrived to visit you.
She will see to your entertainment, I’m sure. ”
“Miss Martin?” Adam repeated with a frown, just as an unmistakable whirlwind of lilac and lace stepped into view.
“Oh, Adam!” a girl chirped after she rounded the corner, clearly summoned on cue. Her blonde hair was impossibly coiffed, bouncing as though even her curls sought attention. She made her approach as if on a carefully choreographed stage, hands clutching skirts that barely needed adjustment.
Adam stiffened, his patience fraying even before she spoke.
Oh. Lorena Martínez was Miss Martin in England.
How very flexible her name was, Adam thought.
Judging by her looks, she was flexible in other ways, too.
And in the ways David would enjoy but the ways Adam would fear—flexible morals usually meant trouble.
And when it was his brother… that was particularly disastrous.
A distant, supremely distant cousin of his. He’d almost forgotten about this branch of the family. His late father certainly had tried to forget them, and Adam began to understand why.
“How you’ve changed since I last saw you.
We were what… fourteen? Your mother has been so gracious to invite me to stay,” Miss Martin said, sweeping toward him with a kind of feigned demureness that grated on every nerve he owned.
“But, Adam, don’t you think it’s about time you considered settling down? ”