Page 50 of An Unwilling Earl
She mentally shrugged. What did it matter now?
“My father was one of the kindest, most loving men I knew,” Charlotte said. “When Aunt Martha ranted about the evils of the opposite sex I purposely thought of him. She was wrong. About men. They’re not all bad. My father was a good man.Youare a good man.” She looked down into her nearly empty glass. Where had all the brandy gone? Surely she hadn’t drunk it all, had she?
No. The glass hadn’t been that full when he’d handed it to her.
“Do you think…” Jacob paused. “I find it odd that your aunt hated men so much and your uncle died so suddenly.”
The thought that had slithered away came racing back, and she desperately tried to let it go.
“Do you think she did something to him?” She suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“I don’t know. I just think it’s odd.”
Their gazes locked. Firelight flickered across his dark eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips.
She wanted to kiss him again but he’d said they couldn’t do that. He said he wouldn’t do that to her. But what if she wanted him to? Did she not have a say in any of this?
Then she thought of America and the bright future that lay before her if only she could get there.
He stood abruptly and took the almost empty glass of brandy from her. She wanted to cry out at the loss—of a kiss that did not happen, of the intimate atmosphere of their conversation and, yes, at the loss of the brandy. It made all of her problems seem not so problematic anymore. She wanted the release that the brandy provided and that a good, long kiss afforded.
“I think we should return to our respective bedchambers,” he said.
Was there reluctance in his tone? Regret in his eyes?
She stood and faced him, and with a what-the-hell attitude that was more brandy than courage, she kissed him. And then like the untried, naive girl that she was, she fled from the room and down the hall to her bedchamber where she crawled into a cold bed and curled into a tight ball.
…
Armbruster’s butler let Jacob in the next morning, but Jacob’s mind wasn’t really on the task ahead, which was meeting with Armbruster’s man-of-business to discuss the earldom’s finances.
After his kiss with Charlotte last night he’d gone back to bed only to toss and turn and think endlessly about her. She’d been vulnerable, he told himself. She didn’t know what she was doing because her aunt had kept her from any suitors, since all men were evil.
He couldn’t take advantage of her in the frightened state she was in.
Marry Miss Morris.
Damn Armbruster for even mentioning such a preposterous thing.
And when he had not been thinking of Charlotte he’d been thinking of her uncle. Dead rather quickly, she’d told him. It matched what he’d learned of the Morrises. But what had he died of?
He didn’t know why he couldn’t shake the thought that Lord Morris had met a foul end. But why? Because Lady Morris despised men so much?
“He sent word that he was going to be a few minutes late,” Armbruster said of his man-of-business as he walked into the room. “Which will give us time to catch up on things.”
Jacob pulled his mind from his morbid thoughts to the task at hand. Numbers never interested him. He’d never done well in mathematics and had determined that today would be a rather dull day, but it had to be done.
“Catch up?” Jacob seated himself in the chair that Armbruster had offered.
“What is happening with Miss Morris?” Armbruster asked.
I kissed her, and it was magnificent.
“She’s going to America.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Still? So you haven’t given any thought to my suggestion?”
Oh, he’d given it a lot of thought. Mainly thinking that the idea was completely ludicrous.
