Chapter 6 #2
“So am I,” he replied. “You need not seek my permission for every expense.” He shrugged lightly.
“Order whatever is necessary. Dresses, slippers, ribbons, whatever ladies require to survive these dreadful social rituals. Tell whichever tailors you attend to place it on my credit. I shall have my solicitors deal with the matter.”
Confusion crossed her face almost instantly, and Victor found himself absurdly entertained by it.
“Oh?” he said lazily. “Did you imagine I would suddenly become ungenerous?”
Charlotte opened her mouth, likely to deliver something sharp in return, but before she could answer, another voice interrupted them.
“Oh, there you are, my dears.”
Elizabeth entered the foyer smiling warmly, and Charlotte transformed so quickly Victor almost admired the skill of it. A bright smile appeared upon her face as she moved immediately to his side, slipping her hand through his arm with smooth confidence.
“There you are, Your Grace,” she said sweetly.
Victor looked down at her sharply.
The little minx. She is far more skilled in deceit than she lets on.
Elizabeth positively beamed at the sight of them together. “How lovely you both look,” she declared.
Charlotte tilted her head slightly toward him, her fingers resting lightly against his sleeve. “You are too kind,” she said demurely.
Victor nearly choked on the sheer performance of it. Worse still, she looked entirely convincing.
The faint blush warming her cheeks only deepened the illusion, and Victor found his thoughts shifting abruptly in directions they absolutely should not.
He became acutely aware of the softness of her touch against his arm, the subtle scent of her perfume, the way she looked up at him beneath lowered lashes.
Dangerous. Very dangerous.
“You seem unusually quiet,” Charlotte murmured under her breath, her tone edged with amusement.
Victor recovered himself at once. “I am admiring your commitment to… me,” he replied smoothly.
Elizabeth clapped her hands happily. “You see?” she said. “Perfect together.”
Charlotte smiled brightly. “Your Grace,” she said to Elizabeth, “perhaps we ought to take a stroll in the garden.”
“A splendid idea,” Elizabeth agreed immediately.
Charlotte withdrew her hand from Victor’s arm, though the warmth of her touch lingered there infuriatingly.
“We shall not be long,” she said politely.
Victor inclined his head. “Enjoy your walk.”
He watched them disappear down the corridor together before exhaling slowly.
The place where she had touched him still burned.
Victor frowned deeply at the thought.
Ridiculous. It was merely proximity, nothing more.
He had always appreciated women, and Charlotte Brown unfortunately happened to be one of them. That did not signify attachment. It certainly did not signify anything more than that.
He hated himself slightly for even needing the reminder.
Turning sharply, he nearly collided with Lionel rounding the corner.
“There you are,” Lionel said, amusement already visible in his expression. “I must commend you.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”
Lionel leaned casually against the wall. “Your performance,” he said lightly. “You played the devoted fiancé remarkably well.”
Victor’s expression cooled instantly. “What precisely do you mean by that?”
Lionel raised both brows. “Good God,” he said. “You truly are in a temper.”
“I asked you a question.”
Lionel studied him for a moment. “I mean,” he said calmly, “that this little arrangement of yours appears increasingly dangerous.”
Victor scoffed. “Do not be dramatic.”
“From where I stood, you looked ready to propose immediately. A real proposal that is,” Lionel replied.
Victor stepped closer, his voice lowering dangerously. “Careful.”
Lionel folded his arms. “That is exactly my point. See how even speaking of it blackens your mood.”
“There is no point,” Victor said sharply. “It is an arrangement. Nothing more.”
Lionel gave him a long, sceptical look. “If you say so.”
Victor’s irritation sharpened immediately. “You presume too much.”
“And you deny too quickly,” Lionel returned.
“You know nothing about the thoughts in my head,” Victor said.
“I know you,” Lionel said simply. “You have been reckless ever since mother and father.”
“Do not speak of it, Lionel,” Victor spat.
“It wasn't your fault, Victor. You were just a child as was I,” Lionel said.
“I will not speak of it,” Victor said. His fists tightened at his side.
“You will not speak of it, but you let it lead your life. How long has it been since you rode in a carriage?” Lionel said.
That irritated Victor more than it should have. Without another word, he brushed past his brother and strode down the corridor. Lionel called something after him, though Victor ignored it entirely.
Because Lionel was wrong. Completely wrong. I do not linger on the thoughts of mother and father, and I do not care for Miss Brown.
Victor Richards would never let any dark memories run his life, and he would not fall for a woman like Charlotte Brown.
Even if her touch still lingers against my skin.
He pushed open the door to his study with more force than necessary and immediately regretted the display. He rarely lost control of his temper, particularly over something as ridiculous as Lionel’s teasing. Yet his brother’s words lingered unpleasantly, needling at him with irritating accuracy.
“Nonsense,” he muttered, loosening his cravat slightly as though the room had suddenly become too warm.
He crossed toward the decanter near the fireplace and poured himself a drink, though even the sharp burn of whisky failed to settle his thoughts.
Instead, his mind betrayed him once more with the image of Charlotte standing beside him in the foyer, her hand tucked through his arm so naturally that for one reckless moment it had not felt like pretence at all.
That was the dangerous part.
Not desire itself, desire was simple, familiar, easily managed. Victor had spent years surrounded by beautiful women, charming them and bedding them when it suited him and leaving before anything complicated could take root. Charlotte, however, complicated things merely by existing.
She's too sincere. Too self-sacrificing. Too willing to carry burdens that should never have belonged to her in the first place.
Victor frowned into his glass. She looked at the world as though people ought to care for one another without expecting anything in return, and somehow she had managed to look at him the same way when she worried over his grandmother.
It unsettled him.
A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts before they could wander further.
“What?” he called impatiently.
The door opened slightly as Baxter stepped inside. “Pardon me, Your Grace,” the butler said smoothly, “but Miss Brown requested writing materials be brought to her room and asked whether she might send several letters tomorrow morning.”
Victor stared for a brief moment before letting out a quiet breath.
“Of course,” he said. “Ensure she has whatever she requires.”
Baxter inclined his head. “Very good, Your Grace.”
As the door closed once more, Victor leaned back against the desk, rubbing a hand slowly over his jaw.
Whatever she requires.
The words echoed strangely in his mind.
Victor exhaled sharply and drained the rest of his drink. This arrangement would end eventually. Charlotte would help soothe his grandmother, her sisters would be launched properly into society, and then everything would return to normal.
At least, that is the plan and it better work. For I will not allow anything beyond that to happen.