Page 66 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Charlotte glared. “I know what you want to say. That she’s like me.”

“Actually, I think you sound more like the man. What’s his name?”

“Darcy. And if you think that comparison bothers me, you’re wrong.”

He chewed his beef, contemplating how best to say the next thing. “So Darcy and Elizabeth are fighting their attraction for one another. What, in your estimation, would encourage him to give in?”

From the expression on her face, she truly appeared confounded.

“Would sending him flowers and little notes do the trick?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would a woman send a man flow—” Her fork clattered to her plate. “You’re not talking about Darcy and Elizabeth.”

He shrugged. “I was thinking in generalities. Just for example, mind you, what gesture could a man make to win you over?”

Her glower was lethal. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t you promise Honoria to give me a chance? I’m trying here, Charlotte, but I seem to be the only one. If our marriage isn’t based on love, could it at least be based on honesty?”

“You won’t like what I have to say.”

He pulled in a breath.Probably not. “Tell me anyway.”

“I don’t know.” She held up her hand when he opened hismouth. “I honestly don’t know. No one has ever considered what I want before. What I needed. I don’t think it’s things most women want. It’s more . . .”

He leaned forward.

Tears glistened in the rims of her eyes, but she blinked them back. Her rich alto voice dropped to a whisper. “I get so tired sometimes. Of being strong, from fighting for control, from protecting myself.”

“Protecting yourself from whom? Davies?” He swallowed, dread constricting his throat. “Me?”

As if she’d been shaken from a dream, the faraway look in her eyes vanished. “No one. I don’t know why I said that.” She wiped her lips and rose. “If you would excuse me.”

He bolted from his seat, more from concern than etiquette. “Charlotte, wait.”

She turned, and the vulnerable woman seated before him moments ago disappeared. “What I want is to be left alone.”

She marched from the room, head held high, shoulders straightened as if she were marching to the front lines of battle.

“But you haven’t had dessert,” Simon said, his words wasted on the footman, who shifted his eyes toward Simon before returning his attention to the empty space before him.

Charlotte had been on the cusp of sharing something with him. Something painful.

And Simon was unsure he wanted to hear it. He plopped back into his seat and pushed his beef and carrots around the plate, his own appetite diminishing.

Finally giving up, he motioned the footman over. “Put the dessert on a tray—two servings.” Tray in hand, Simon checked the drawing room, the library, and the other common rooms, all devoid of Charlotte.

Upstairs, Rose, Charlotte’s maid, approached from the servant’s staircase. “Is Lady Charlotte in her room?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” She eyed the tray and held out her hands. “If that is for my lady, I can take it to her.”

“Thank you, Rose, but I would like to deliver it myself and take care of whatever she needs.”

Rose eyed him suspiciously. “I suspect she called me to ready her for bed, sir.”

“I’ll have her ring again if she needs you. But if you would be so kind as to knock and open the door. As you see, my hands are occupied.”

Rose gave two raps on Charlotte’s door, and Charlotte answered, “Enter.”

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