Page 62 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Frampton puffed out his chest. “No need to worry, Mr. Beckham. We will all do our best to ensure His Grace gets rest and is not troubled with unnecessary details in your absence.”

With that task complete, he watched the clock in the drawing room for a solid twenty-three minutes while Charlotte read her book. The prospect of being confined in a carriage for long hours pressed down like a great weight. He needed todosomething. He pulled back the curtain and peeked out the window.

Twilight approached, and the air would soon chill. “Would you care to go for a short stroll?”

“No.” She waved a hand at him as if shooing away a pesky insect. “You go.”

And she calledhimincorrigible. “And risk your ire if I leave you again? No, thank you.” He plopped back down in the chair, exhaling an exaggerated, “Oomph.”

She slammed the book on the table next to her. “If you’regoing to behave like a spoiled child and make irritating noises, I capitulate.”

He wanted to kiss her in gratitude, but he feared a repeat of the night before. He must take things slowly.

At the front door,Frampton held out Charlotte’s pelisse, but Simon snatched it from the butler’s hands and held it open to her. “Allow me.” He had the audacity to flash that ridiculous grin at her.

Her knees might have weakened—if she believed he could evoke such a response. More likely, it was simply her joints adjusting. She slipped her arms through, and the heat of his hands pressed against her shoulders as he smoothed the material over them.

“Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill before our trip.” Wisps of his breath, hot and soft, brushed against her cheek as he leaned in.

When he held out his arm to lead her through the door, she ignored him, stepping outside into the dimming light and hoping to complete the walk quickly. Until Honoria’s request demanded her attention.

Give him a chance.

Gah!

Simon stepped outside beside her.

“Very well,” she said with as much annoyance as she could muster.

He blinked. “Very well, what?”

Damn the man. Did he have to draw her attention to his incredible blue eyes?

“I’ll take your stupid arm.”

He laughed—the fool. “I’ll have you know my arm has been known to make very wise decisions.” With the ridiculous smileplastered on his face, he stared straight ahead, yet he held out his arm.

When she slid her gloved hand over it, it felt—right, as if it had been waiting specifically for her.

Absurd. How could an arm be waiting for a hand? The recent weeks spent in his presence had turned her mind into mush. Yet, she couldn’t help but notice the firm muscle beneath the material of his superfine coat. Muscle she had observed first-hand. And more than just his arms. Her face burned at the memory of his naked form.

He slid a sideways glance toward her. “Perhaps the pelisse is too much. It is still rather warm for this time of day.”

“I’m fine.”

They strolled in silence the short distance to the park. Other than the modiste and their meeting with the vicar, Charlotte had not dealt with the aftermath of the scandal inThe Muckraker. But as people passed, she couldn’t help but notice how many gave them the cut—indirect, granted, acting as if they had not seen her, but a cut nonetheless.

Oblivious to the insult, Simon tipped his hat to each one of the judgmental churls, greeting them with a cheery, “Good evening!” Or, “Fine evening for a stroll, wouldn’t you say?”

“How can you be so pleasant to these . . . these . . .” Even through gritted teeth, she couldn’t say the word.

“Arses? You can say it to me. I won’t be offended, especially when it’s the truth.”

Her mouth fell open.

“Close your mouth, darling, here comes another group of them. As to your question. Let them think their rudeness doesn’t bother us in the least. Don’t give them the satisfaction. ‘Kill them with kindness’ has worked well for me.” He lay his free hand on top of hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Go ahead, try it.”

As Lord and Lady Cheswick approached, Charlotte forced a smile to her lips.

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