Page 37 of Unforeseen Affairs
Still watching her, he set his hat atop an old cane chair with a rickety leg. Then he looked down and began to read.
After a few moments his hands twitched, crumpling the paper slightly as he looked back up. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones.
“This Miss Elspeth Wilson, do you know her?”
“Mrs. Stone’s Christian name is Elsie. I assume it to be her, before she married.”
Sir Colin raised his eyebrows, then looked back at the paper. When he looked up again, his face telegraphed his next question before he could open his mouth.
“No, Mr. Stone died about five years ago. In a fire.” When she saw his face pale, she couldn’t help but flatly add, “Nasty business, I’m told.”
“And Mr. Bass… they once performed together? Before her… marriage and her husband’s…”
“I would not call it that,” Charlotte said, bristling. “Mrs. Stone does notperform.”
“Fine—they worked in tandem, then, in private circles?” He looked down at the piece again, frowning. “What’s to be done with this?”
“I’m not sure just yet,” Charlotte admitted. “It could mean several things, not all of them relevant to our purpose.”
“Should we ask Mrs. Stone? Perhaps she might—”
“Out of the question,” Charlotte interjected.
He shrugged, then resumed reading—more intently now, his wide lips pressed firmly together in thought.
Charlotte tried to imagine Mrs. Stone as a maiden, rather than the solemn, veiled widow she now was. And Mr. Bass as a younger man as well, his face unlined and boyish. What could have possessed Mrs. Stone, then Elspeth Wilson, to accept his help and allow herself to be sponsored by him? Charlotte couldnot fathom it; the only mental pictures she could conjure were hazy and vague.
She studied the issue ofThe Carlisle TransferenceSir Colin held in his hands, which were now obscuring the advertisements she’d just read. They were strong hands, she could tell, capable and well-worked. She imagined that one likely had to lift all manner of heavy things on a ship, even if one were an officer. With her eyes she traced the line of a vein from where it surfaced at the base of his ring finger to where it disappeared just above the wrist.
Suddenly, the image of Mr. Bass embracing her serious and fragile mentor intruded into her thoughts. Without meaning to, Charlotte pictured his hands pressing into the bodice of Mrs. Stone’s gown, wrinkling the fabric. Her heartbeat kicked up. Could Mrs. Stone have possessedfeelingsfor Mr. Bass?
Feelings of a baser nature?
She could not tolerate the thought. Mrs. Stone and Mr. Bass were a study in opposites. He was one for fawning and preening, relishing attention and applause. Mrs. Stone, on the other hand, cared deeply about the nature of souls and the language of spirits, with little interest in gaining notoriety for herself.
Much like Charlotte.
Idly she noticed Sir Colin’s coat, and how tidy and well-tailored it was. How would he appear in his naval uniform? She eyed his shoulders, wide and sturdy. Did he wear golden epaulets, as in the portraits of his forebears?
A heated sensation slid through her, so sly that by the time she marked it, it was too late.
Oh, she realized, now taking in the arresting line of his jaw and, below it, the bit of his throat peeking out above the collar.I believe I understand.
Charlotte shut her eyes.
This was desire.
She realized now that she had always enjoyed looking upon him, even before it had occurred to her that Sir Colin was objectively handsome and before he had matter-of-factly told her she was pretty. And that had taken hold in her, and grown into something that now gnawed low in her middle. A longing for his touch, to nestle into the space between his neck and shoulder and breathe in his scent.
What did he smell like?
He looked up from the paper with a start. His eyes locked on hers, but she did not waver; her gaze remained upon him, steady and heated.
Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought she saw a recognition in Sir Colin’s eyes, an admission that he, too, was aware of these feelings and acknowledged the frisson sparking between them. His face pinkened.
“Miss Sedley?” he finally asked. “What is it? What are you thinking?”
What to say to that?
