Chapter 6
Charlotte stood before the looking glass, tilting her head one way, then the other, appraising the glossy curls pinned neatly into place.
Her maid had outdone herself, though Charlotte would never admit aloud that she cared.
Certainly not because Lord Luca was to join them for dinner.
Good heavens, no. The very notion was absurd.
The last thing she desired was to sit across the table from the most vexing man in London.
How he contrived to unsettle her with every glance, every word, was a puzzle she had yet to solve.
A knock sounded, and before Charlotte could answer, Jane slipped inside.
“You look lovely,” Jane said.
Charlotte smoothed the sleeves of her pale blue gown. “This is one of my older dresses. I would not want Lord Luca to think I spent extra time on my person on his account.”
Jane arched a brow. “You spend a great deal of time speaking of Lord Luca for someone who claims to think nothing of him.”
“I do not,” Charlotte protested. “I hardly give him a thought.”
Jane’s silence said more than words. With a soft smile, she raised her brow as if to say she believed none of it. “If you say so.”
“I do,” Charlotte muttered, grateful at least that Jane let the matter rest.
Jane gestured towards the door. “Shall we go down? The dinner bell will sound any moment.”
As they stepped into the corridor, Charlotte asked, “Where is Alistair?”
“In his study. Where else?” Jane replied with fond resignation. “I often sit with him there, reading or embroidering while he works. Oh—” she added, “I invited Lord Luca’s brother, Lord Pendryn, to dine with us as well.”
Charlotte frowned. “I am not acquainted with Lord Pendryn.”
“Neither am I, but under the circumstances, it seemed only right to meet him.”
Her brows knit tighter. “And what circumstances are those?”
Jane gave her a knowing look. “Surely you have noticed how much time you and Lord Luca have spent together. I thought, as your suitor—”
Charlotte halted mid-step. “Lord Luca is not my suitor.”
“Your protests grow louder each time I mention him,” Jane remarked.
“He is the last man on earth I would ever consider to be my suitor,” Charlotte declared.
“Then I must have misspoken.”
“Yes, you did.”
But Jane’s smile only deepened. “At least we shall have an enjoyable evening with two eligible lords.”
Charlotte exhaled an impatient sigh. “I daresay Lord Pendryn will be just as insufferable as his brother.”
A firm knock resounded from the floor below, sparing her further reply.
Jane linked arms with her. “We shall see soon enough.” Together they descended the staircase, their slippers whispering against the marble.
At the bottom, the butler opened the door, and there stood Lord Luca—irritatingly handsome, of course—beside a taller, sterner man Charlotte assumed must be Lord Pendryn.
Charlotte summoned a polite smile, though inwardly she wanted to roll her eyes. She must remember her role. But it was growing increasingly harder to act as the gracious diamond whenever she was in Lord Luca’s presence.
Luca inclined his head. “Miss Winslow, you are looking particularly beautiful this evening.”
“That is kind of you to say,” she responded, biting back the tart remark that hovered on her tongue.
“Lady Alcott, Miss Winslow,” he continued, gesturing towards his brother. “May I present Lord Pendryn.”
Charlotte dipped into a graceful curtsy. “My lord.”
Lord Pendryn bowed, his lips quirking into a smile. “I see now the rumors of your beauty did not do you justice.”
Oh, bother, Charlotte thought. These two clearly thrived on flattery. Did they rehearse such lines together?
Remembering her role as hostess, Charlotte gestured smoothly towards the drawing room. “Would you care to wait in there with me until the dinner bell rings?”
As if on cue, the bell rang.
Before she could move, Lord Luca offered his arm. “May I escort you to dinner?”
Refusal hovered at her lips, but her years of gentle breeding forbade it. With reluctant grace, she set her hand upon his sleeve. “Thank you, my lord.”
They walked in silence to the dining room. He pulled out her chair, and she murmured a stiff word of thanks.
When he pointed to the empty chair beside her, his eyes gleamed with mirth. “May I sit here, or do you require this seat for your napkin?”
Her jaw tightened. “You may sit there.”
Of all the torments.
Just then, Alistair entered, moving to place a tender kiss upon Jane’s cheek.
Charlotte looked away and studied Lord Pendryn discreetly.
Though cut from the same cloth as his brother—tall, broad-shouldered, undeniably striking—his brown eyes held a somber cast, as though he bore burdens unspoken.
But he was an heir to a dukedom. What true hardship could he know?
Her musing was cut short when Lord Luca leaned nearer, his breath brushing her ear. “I am much more handsome than my brother. Do you not agree?”
Charlotte turned a cool gaze upon him. “I already find Lord Pendryn far more tolerable than you.”
“That is because he has said almost nothing. Just wait.”
“Perhaps you should take his example and think before you speak,” Charlotte countered.
Luca reached for his glass, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Where is the fun in that?”
Charlotte opened her mouth to retort, but Alistair interjected. “Pendryn. Lord Luca. You are most welcome in our home.”
Lord Pendryn inclined his head. “Thank you, Alcott. That is kind of you to say.”
Alistair leaned forward. “And what has occupied your time as of late?”
“The usual pursuits,” Lord Pendryn replied. His tone was measured, but Charlotte noticed the faint tightening at the corners of his mouth, as though he disliked such inquiries. “I have been learning far too much about farm equipment.”
Alistair bobbed his head in sympathy. “Ah, a necessary evil.” He paused. “I heard that you were labeled the most eligible bachelor this Season.”
Lord Pendryn visibly stiffened. “I do not pay heed to such titles. I am much more focused on increasing our land holdings.”
Charlotte could not help but admire that—if it was true. A man uninterested in Society’s games was rare indeed.
Raising his glass in salute, Alistair said, “Wise words from a wise man.” He turned to Jane, warmth softening his voice. “Although, marrying Jane was the smartest thing I ever did.”
“Good answer,” Jane teased.
Alistair smiled and set down his glass. “I only hope Charlotte will find someone who makes her as happy as Jane has made me.”
Heat pricked Charlotte’s cheeks. Why must her brother always thrust her into the center of conversation?
Lord Pendryn’s gaze slid towards her, assessing. “As the diamond, I would imagine you have your choice of suitors.”
“I do,” Charlotte admitted. “But none of them have piqued my interest.”
“It only takes one,” Lord Pendryn said graciously.
Before Charlotte could reply, Luca leaned back in his chair, his smirk firmly in place. “I’ll do it.”
Her head snapped towards him. “Do what, my lord?”
“I’ll marry you,” he said with an exasperated sigh, “under protest, of course.”
Charlotte’s brows drew together in disbelief. “And what makes you think I would want to marry you?”
“I am devilishly handsome, rich, and you could not possibly do better than me,” he replied as though the matter were already settled.
Suppressing the urge to laugh outright, Charlotte replied, “Thank you for the kind offer, but I must refuse.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “But if you change your mind…”
Ah, he thought he had bested her. Well, two could play at this game. Charlotte pressed her lips together as if considering. Then adopting a thoughtful air, she said, “I changed my mind. I will marry you.”
Luca choked on his drink, sputtering. “Pardon?”
“Yes,” Charlotte continued brightly. “I do not believe I shall get a better offer than the son of a duke. We ought to marry at once. Do you wish to acquire a special license?” She batted her lashes for good measure. “We could be wed tomorrow.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin, panic flickering across his handsome features. “Are you in earnest?”
Unable to keep the laughter bottled any longer, Charlotte laughed. “No, my lord. I am merely teasing you. I have no desire to marry you—not even if you were the last man on earth.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “That wounds me here. In my heart.”
“You will live,” she retorted.
Lord Pendryn’s lips curved in what might have been his first true smile of the evening. “Well played, Miss Winslow. I do not believe I have ever seen my brother so unsettled.”
“It is the least I could do, since he insists on teasing me relentlessly,” Charlotte replied.
Lord Luca leaned closer to her and whispered, “It is refreshing to know that you do have a sense of humor, after all.”
Charlotte narrowed her gaze. “I have a delightful sense of humor. I simply choose not to waste it on you.”
“Pity,” he murmured.
Ignoring him, she turned to Lord Pendryn. “Tell me, my lord—how have you not banished your brother to a shed in Scotland?”
Lord Pendryn chuckled. “Tempting though the idea may be, my father is rather fond of him. I cannot fathom why.”
“Because people love me,” Luca declared with a wink. “Especially the ladies.”
“Well, not this lady. And kindly refrain from winking at me,” Charlotte replied.
He adopted an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Did I wink? I must have had something in my eye.”
She nearly groaned aloud. Of course he would twist her rebuke into something absurd. Just as she was about to tell him she had endured quite enough of his antics, Jane’s voice cut in smoothly, rescuing her from saying something unladylike.
“Has anyone read anything of note lately?” Jane asked.
Charlotte seized upon the change of topic like a lifeline. “I finished reading A Vindication of the Rights of Woman by Mary Wollstonecraft,” she said, unable to keep a touch of pride from her voice.
“What a delightful read,” Jane said. “Her book suggests that women could—and should—think for themselves.”