Chapter 40
Charlotte was much too overwhelmed to do anything but keep herself busy for the next few days.
She’d already written up her proposal for a loan against the silk mill and couriered it off to Mr. Curlew, Julian’s man of business in London, along with copies of her ledgers and pending orders.
She’d also written to her mother to tell her that their nightmare might soon be over, so Charlotte tried to fill her time by dreaming up new damask patterns for the Jacquard loom.
Unfortunately, there was no pattern in the world that could drag her mind away from the memory of the hot press of Wolfgang’s mouth.
It came to her late at night as she tossed and turned, whispering wonderfully filthy things into her ear, skimming down her neck, her collarbones, and over the swell of her chest to lick—
“What’s that, Lady Charlotte?” asked Lady Skeffington. “It almost sounded as if you squeaked.”
Charlotte’s face flooded with color. “Nothing!”
It was the afternoon of Vyse’s departure, and the ladies of the house were assembled for what the dowager had billed to the gentlemen as a meeting of her newly minted garden club, but it was really only an excuse for the women to take tea undisturbed.
“As I was saying, one doesn’t want to breakfast with a rake,” said Lady Skeffington.
“A rake ought to be seen by moonlight or not at all. Otherwise, one realizes how ridiculous he is.” Something occurred to Lady Skeffington and she deflated.
“I suppose one could say the same for me. Moonlight’s so wonderfully flattering. ”
“You always look marvelous, Mother,” said Alexandra, who herself was in exceptional good looks.
She’d been running around without a hat for half the summer, and her hair was shockingly bright in the light that streamed in through the windows.
“The problem with Vyse is that he may be a rake, but I’m not convinced he likes women.
Or at least, perhaps he likes select parts of us, but he has very little interest in our minds.
” She cast a glance at her mother and dropped her voice.
“Although, I may as well confess—Charlotte, did you mean it when you said we should all take a crack at your suitors?”
“Of course I did.” Charlotte paused with a strawberry halfway to her mouth. “Surely not Vyse?”
Alexandra took a sip of tea and placed the cup carefully in its saucer, waiting until she had the room’s full attention.
“Well, I know he’s frightful, but I’ve heard such stories about him.
I thought perhaps a rake might stir—” She stopped and colored.
“Let’s just say I was curious to indulge in a kiss. ”
“Alexandra!” cried Lady Skeffington.
“Leave her be, Lucretia,” said the dowager. “You forget how it is to be young.”
“Well?” said Elizabeth, leaning forward. “How was it?”
“Unsatisfactory! I doubt anything excites that man, except perhaps a whole gaggle of young ladies and a length of rope. I’ve formed a theory that rakes always disappoint—how can they bring any magic to the proceedings when they’re so jaded?”
Charlotte let out a peal of laughter. “I hope you told your theory to Vyse?”
“I tried to, but it was hard to get a word in edgewise. He was going on and on about birds, you see.”
“Birds?” asked Helena.
“Endlessly! How songbirds mate for life but he’s a soaring eagle. Of course, he’s dead wrong, as Georgie could have told him—songbirds are quite the little jezebels, while eagles are strictly monogamous.”
“I hope you corrected him on that, at least?” asked Charlotte. “I get such pleasure from telling a certain type of man that he’s wrong and trying to guess what shade of red he’ll turn.”
“I couldn’t be bothered, to be honest.”
Charlotte nibbled on her berry, which made her think of the Grand Salon and Wolfgang’s mouth on her—
“Well!” she squeaked. “I say good riddance to Lord Vyse.”
Elizabeth frowned. “If you’ve so little liking for him, why’d you invite him down?”
“I didn’t.” Charlotte cocked an eyebrow at the dowager.
Lady Alice picked up her teacup with a sniff. “Lord Vyse is the grandson of my dear friend Serena Ellingwood, who moved away to the deepest wilds of Cumberland after her marriage and whom I see so rarely. She’s aching for Vyse to settle down, so what could I do but invite him to Clare?”
“You might have said no, or at least suggested that he not arrive drunk?” offered Charlotte.
“Poor Serena. Well, you can see why she asked for help.” Lady Alice’s shoulders began to shake. “Imagine having such a grandson.”
“Speaking of prowling,” said Alexandra, “I regret to inform you that Vyse mentioned lions to me. How the strongest men need a pride.”
Helena frowned. “Why bring so many animals into it?”
“Well,” said Alexandra, “I heard rumor that once he—”
The door cracked open and Wolfgang thrust his head in.
Charlotte sucked in a shaky breath, but Lady Skeffington sat up straight and shouted, “HOW FASCINATING, LADY ALICE! DO TELL US MORE ABOUT THE FERTILIZATION REQUIREMENTS OF THE DOUBLE MUSK ROSE?”
Wolfgang took in Lady Skeffington’s dismay and Alexandra’s glow of mischief. He glanced briefly at Charlotte, too, and her cheeks caught fire. “Ah, yes, the garden club. With all the cackling, I forgot you were engaged in scholarly pursuits.”
Charlotte rallied enough to tilt her head. “I’m not sure we’ve been scholarly, precisely, but we had the most fascinating discussion about rakes and other garden tools.”
Lady Skeffington began to choke.
“Lady Alice,” Wolfgang said, “you requested that I meet you here at four?”
The dowager blinked innocently. “Why, yes. Charlotte, the duke was asking about our cherry orchard the other day—”
No, I wasn’t, Wolfgang mouthed at Charlotte.
“—and it occurred to me that you have an appointment with Mr. Milstead this very afternoon to inspect the trees. Would you bring Warrick along with you, dear?”
This wasn’t my idea, Wolfgang mouthed again. I know you’ve been avoiding me. His face was screwed up half with laughter and half as if he thought Charlotte might toss a cushion at him.
But Charlotte smiled, wide and wicked. “Oh yes, Your Grace, you must see our orchard. You’ll find it most informative.”