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to bring him comfort on a lonely night in the near future.

Yet a voice inside him declared that wasn’t enough, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Chapter Eleven

Charlotte woke with a glow in her heart, a warm reminder of the fabulous evening. The warmth turned positively steamy as she thought of those moments alone with James. In truth, she’d hoped for more than kisses. Her entire body had ached for his touch. While she appreciated how he’d acted with honor, she also longed for more.

They’d returned to the group before the fireworks had finished. If Mrs. Raybourne noted their absence, she hadn’t questioned it. Lady Barbara had based on the way she’d wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Charlotte soon after they’d returned. Though tempted to ask her not to say anything, Charlotte decided against doing so as it might confirm what Barbara suspected and make her more inclined to remark on it.

With a sigh, Charlotte rolled to her side and reached for her pillow, smiling as she hugged it tightly. Dare she hope his feelings for her were growing, just as hers were for him? Did he see how good they were for each other? The possibility of a future together left her breathless, her heart soaring at the dream.

Time was of the essence given that Lord Samuelson loomed on the horizon. The moment had come to speak plainly with James and share how she felt. It was a bold move, considering the fact that he had yet to express any sort of tendre for her other than physical attraction. If only they had a few more weeks, she was fairly certain their relationship would progress naturally.

But she couldn’t wait.

What she felt—dare she call it love?—was special. It was worth fighting for. However, James had already fought his share of battles. This one rested on her shoulders. She knew he struggled with his memories and the aftereffects of war. But she wanted to help him. To ease his pain. To help him see how happy they could be together.

Somehow, she had to make certain they had that chance. As quickly as possible. This very day, she would find a way to tell him how much she cared and ask that he consider a future with her. Nerves mingled with excitement at the idea of how he might react. But this was a risk worth taking.

She rose as Mary entered the bedchamber, more than ready to begin the day.

But the look on the maid’s face had her faltering.

“What is it?” she asked, clenching her hand until her nails bit into her palm in an effort to brace herself.

“Lord Wynn requests your presence in his study as soon as you’re dressed.” Mary’s pursed lips and worried eyes were enough to suggest it would not be a pleasant meeting.

“Did he mention anything more?”

“No, my lady.”

“Very well.” She lifted her chin. Whatever her father had to say wouldn’t change her course.

Within a half-hour, she was making her way slowly down the stairs toward her father’s study, her stomach tightening with dread. His gout had not improved, and based on Mary’s reaction as she’d delivered the request, Lord Wynn was not in good spirits.

Had he somehow discovered her adventures? Or did this have something to do with Lord Samuelson?

Charlotte drew a deep breath and braced herself as the footman opened the study door. She forced a smile, refusing to act guilty, especially when she didn't regret her actions for a moment.

“Good morning, Father.” But her attempt at good spirits fell considerably at the sight of her mother seated before his desk. “Mother.”

How she detested meetings such as this. Why couldn't they be the sort of family where they spoke of issues easily and honestly at the dining room table?

A pocket of rebellion bloomed inside her as she halted before her father's desk. Her mother didn't look at her, instead gazing out the window as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Charlotte would receive no assistance from that quarter, not that she’d expected any.

“Have a seat, Charlotte.” her father instructed. “We have much to discuss.”

“Oh?” She did as she was bid, the knot of dread gnarling painfully.

His somewhat cheerful tone suggested his disposition was better than she’d expected. Surely that meant he didn't know about her adventures. Then Lord Samuelson must be the topic he wished to “discuss.” The term was ironic as it did not apply to any conversations with her father.

“I wanted to advise you that discussions between Lord Samuelson and myself are coming along well.”

“Lord Samuelson?” Fear restricted her breath, muddling her thoughts. Not on the very day she was prepared to declare her love to James.

“We spoke at our club yesterday at length, and we’ll soon be coming to an agreement.” He nodded as if pleased, though no smile curved his narrow lips.

Why did she feel as if they were discussing the purchase of a horse or a plot of land rather than her hand in marriage? She couldn't help but glance at her mother once again, but she continued to stare out the window.

“May I know the details of this agreement?” Though she doubted he’d share them, she had to ask. This was her future they were speaking about.

“No need to bother yourself with those,” her father waved his hand as he leaned back in his chair. “The good news is that he is quite taken with you.”

“How can that be?” Panic set in. She should’ve been bolder in her attempt to discourage him. “We haven't spoken more than a few words to each other and never about anything of substance.”

“Nonetheless, he admires you.”

“You mean he admires my appearance?” While she appreciated the fact that she didn't have warts on her nose or blotches on her face, beauty was only temporary.

“The reason for his admiration is irrelevant.” Her father frowned at her, a sure sign that her questions were irritating him.

Yet she couldn’t let the topic go. “It makes all the difference. He doesn't

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