Chapter 16 #2
The man flirted as naturally as breathing and possessed absolutely no sense of restraint when something amused him.
Worse still, Victor knew exactly the sort of charming nonsense Morgan likely whispered into Charlotte’s ear at this very moment.
His friend had probably already composed three terrible poems about her eyes and invited her somewhere scandalous before the second turn of the dance.
A dangerous heat spread through Victor’s chest.
Morgan is a rake. A notorious one. And Charlotte, God help her, looks entirely entertained by him.
She was not truly his fiancée, merely a woman participating in a necessary arrangement for his grandmother’s comfort.
Victor had no claim upon her beyond that agreement, and yet every smile she gave another gentleman scraped against his nerves like sandpaper.
He despised the sensation instantly because it felt far too close to jealousy.
Victor began crossing the ballroom before he fully realized he had decided to move.
Couples parted instinctively at the sight of the Duke of Mulford striding across the floor with murder practically written upon his face.
He barely noticed the curious glances surrounding him as he reached Morgan and Charlotte mid-dance.
Without hesitation, Victor stepped directly between them.
“May I have my fiancée back, Morgan?”
Charlotte blinked up at him in surprise while Morgan merely raised a brow lazily.
“Oh,” Morgan drawled, “now she is your fiancée, is she?” He looked positively delighted by the situation. “Interesting development.”
Victor’s expression hardened. “Do not test my patience.”
Morgan looked toward Charlotte innocently. “We were enjoying ourselves, were we not, Charlotte?”
Victor did not allow her time to answer. He took Charlotte’s hand firmly into his own and pulled her smoothly toward himself. “That will be all, Morgan.”
His friend’s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. “Should I feel threatened?”
“I suggest you walk away before you suffer humiliation.”
Charlotte stared between them in disbelief. “Good heavens, are the two of you about to duel over a dance?”
Morgan burst into laughter. “I like her more every minute.”
Victor shot him a cold look that only seemed to amuse Morgan further.
With exaggerated elegance, Morgan bowed deeply before them both. “Very well then. I surrender Miss Brown back into your terrifying custody.”
“You are intolerable,” Victor muttered.
“Yes, but charmingly so,” he said.
Then Morgan finally retreated into the crowd, still grinning like a man who had just set fire to something for entertainment.
Victor immediately drew Charlotte back into the dance before society could openly gawp at the interruption any longer. His hand settled firmly at her waist while her gloved fingers rested against his shoulder. Even through layers of fabric, he felt painfully aware of her warmth.
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him. “What was that about, Your Grace?”
He matched her look coolly. “I should ask you the same question.”
“What does that mean?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Victor guided her sharply through a turn. “I saw the way you smiled at him.”
Charlotte blinked. “What a horrifying crime.”
“You blushed,” he said, which came out more as an accusation than an observation.
“He made me laugh,” she said. “He is amusing.”
Victor’s jaw clenched further. “You encouraged him, then?”
Charlotte gasped softly. “I did no such thing and…”
“You practically glowed every time he spoke,” he spat the words out as if they were poison.
Her eyes widened with outrage. “You cannot accuse a woman of glowing.”
“I just did,” he said as he turned her in his arms.
“Well then you are ridiculous,” she said with a huff and moved into the next steps that took her away from him before returning to him.
Victor pulled her slightly closer during the next step of the dance than strictly necessary. “Morgan enjoys seducing women.”
Charlotte arched a brow. “Unlike you, naturally.”
“That is not the point,” he said is sternly feeling embarrassed that he knew exactly that her words accused him of being no better than Morgan.
“It appears precisely the point,” she said.
Victor exhaled slowly through his nose as several nearby couples began pretending very badly not to overhear them. He should stop speaking immediately before he revealed exactly how irrationally furious he felt. Unfortunately, Charlotte’s stubborn expression only aggravated him further.
“You ought to be more careful around men like him,” Victor muttered.
Her eyes flashed. “Men like him?”
“And me,” he muttered.
Charlotte looked momentarily startled by the bluntness of that answer.
Victor instantly regretted saying it aloud.
The orchestra swelled around them while they moved together across the crowded ballroom in dangerous silence for several moments.
Victor remained acutely aware of every inch separating their bodies.
Her waist beneath his hand felt soft and warm, and the faint scent of roses clung to her skin distractingly.
He hated himself for noticing.
“You behaved abominably,” Charlotte finally informed him.
“I am aware.”
“You interrupted a dance.”
“Yes,” he said.
“You threatened your friend, why?” she asked.
“He will survive,” he replied.
Charlotte looked scandalized. “Victor.”
“Do not say my name in that tone,” he said. His eyes darkened with lust.
“What tone?”
“The one that makes me sound like a misbehaving schoolboy.”
“You are misbehaving,” she whispered.
Victor leaned slightly closer. “And you like it.”
Her breath caught faintly. That tiny reaction shot straight through him like fire.
Victor immediately cursed himself internally.
This was exactly the sort of reckless behaviour he had spent years avoiding.
Women were supposed to be entertaining distractions, nothing more.
They were not supposed to unsettle him simply by breathing too closely.
Charlotte looked away first, which satisfied him far more than it should have.
“You are impossible,” she murmured.
“And you are far too trusting.”
She frowned up at him. “You truly think so poorly of your friend?”
“No.” Victor hesitated briefly. “I simply know him well.”
Charlotte studied him curiously for a moment before speaking softer this time. “Morgan was perfectly gentlemanly with me.”
Victor disliked hearing that enormously. “He flirted with you.”
Charlotte stared at him in disbelief before a sudden understanding crossed her face. “Are you jealous?”
Victor nearly stumbled mid-step. “Do not be absurd.”
Her lips twitched. “You are. You dragged me away from him like an angry husband.”
Victor’s grip at her waist tightened instinctively. “You forget yourself.”
“And you avoid the question.”
Victor lowered his voice dangerously. “Charlotte.”
That should have warned her to stop. Instead, infuriating woman that she was, amusement danced openly across her features.
“Oh dear,” she said softly. “You are jealous.”
“I am protective,” he said.
“Of your grandmother’s companion?”
“Of my pretend fiancée causing gossip,” he said. He knew that he was mixing words to try to come up with any excuse. Anything but jealousy.
Charlotte laughed quietly, and the sound curled strangely through Victor’s chest. Victor stared down at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes beneath the ballroom candles.
For one reckless moment, he forgot entirely where they were.
He only noticed the curve of her mouth and the warmth of her body pressed near his own.
Then Charlotte looked up at him fully. The teasing faded from her expression first. Victor’s pulse thudded once, hard.
Damn it all.
He was grateful the dance ended before he could do something catastrophically foolish in front of half the ton.
“You should avoid Morgan for the remainder of the evening, I demand it,” he muttered.
Charlotte blinked in surprise before laughter burst from her again. “Demand it? You truly are impossible.”
Victor offered her a cool look while privately acknowledging something deeply unpleasant.
If Morgan Harding, or any other man in this ballroom, kisses Charlotte Brown tonight, I might genuinely commit murder.