Page 8 of The Vixen in Red
He lifted a brow. “You’re quite right, my lady,” he agreed, and then slid off his horse. He tied the reins to a low branch on a nearby tree. Once that task was completed, he strolled to her side and gestured toward the blue and white checkered blanket she lounged on. “May I join you?”
She couldn’t very well tell him no. It would be quite rude, and she suspected the pond was on his property. She could not be certain, but either way, she wanted to have his company. Writing was not going well, and she needed a distraction. “I’d be delighted to have you entertain me.”
“I never promised I’d be diverting,” he said disagreeably, but sat on the blanket anyway.
He had seemed disturbed from the moment she met him. Oh, he’d been affable, even helpful; however, he had a sadness that covered him like a blanket he could not shake off. Sometimes Charlotte wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug the sorrow away. She doubted he’d be grateful though, so she refrained. “I’d like the companionship either way.” She gestured toward the picnic basket. “Have you eaten an afternoon meal? There’s plenty of food. I think Cook believed she was packing for a party of four or more.” Lord Frossly stared at the basket for several moments. What did he think was inside, something poisonous? “I promise it is all edible.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “I, unfortunately, am in a terrible mood. I’ll try to be more sociable.”
“It might help to discuss it.” She nearly groaned. Why did she have to go ahead and offer to listen again? He’d reacted badly the last time she’d suggested it. She hoped he wouldn’t turn into a bigger grouch.
He met her gaze. “I should start with apologizing for my behavior in the bookstore,” he began. “I’ve had nothing but horrid news since my arrival, and it keeps getting worse with each passing day. I took my frustration out on you and should not have done so.”
“You’re forgiven.” She could be congenial, and it helped that his grumpiness had nothing to do with her. It wasn’t as if she had been innocent. “I’ve had bad days myself. I believe that means we’re…normal.” She flashed him a bright smile. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my lord. We all have days we wish we could go back and change. In time, your woes will become easier. At least that is what I keep telling myself. We have to find joy where we can.”
“You are right.” He smiled softly. “Thank you for understanding. I must admit something to you.”
“Oh?” She furrowed her brows. “From your tone, I probably will not like it.”
“You may not,” he agreed. “It is a confession, after all. Nothing good usually comes of them.”
“Very well.” She motioned toward him with a flick of her hand. “Spill your secrets and unburden yourself.”
Charlotte probably should be concerned about his admission. If it was about her, it would unlikely be anything good. If it helped him to open up to her though, she’d encourage it.
“The day your carriage wheel broke…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. “It was not the first time I’ve come across you.”
“I don’t recall ever being introduced.” She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes a moment. Charlotte thought long and hard but could not place him at any social gathering. She was quite active in society and thought she’d been introduced to almost any marriageable gentleman. “No. I am certain we’ve never met.”
“You are correct,” he said casually. “When you first came to my notice, we were not even that close to each other.”
A sickening feeling settled into her stomach. She feared she knew exactly where Lord Frossly had seen her. A part of her wanted to stop him from explaining, but she held back the urge. It was best to have it all out right away. “Hyde Park,” she said softly, almost horrified.
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Charlotte groaned and lifted her hands to bury her face in them. She was mortified. That stunt had seemed like such a wonderful idea at the time… “I’ll never live that down.”
“It was brave,” he told her. “Not many ladies would dare.”
“Rightfully so,” she said as she lifted her head again. “It’s quite scandalous.” She was a little embarrassed he’d witnessed her reckless behavior.
“I suspect that is why you did it.” He flashed her a wicked grin. Charlotte suspected under normal circumstances he’d be charming, almost roguish. Maybe she’d witness more of that side of him as they became further acquainted. “Would you care to tell me your reasons?”
She shook her head. “Not today. A lady has to have some secrets.” Charlotte opened the picnic basket. “How about we share a meal and learn some innocent aspects about each other first. We can dive into the more complicated parts of our personal lives later after we peel back some of the trivial layers.”
“All right,” he agreed. She handed him some cheese and bread, then poured some wine into a goblet. The cook had packed two… She really had thought Charlotte would be meeting someone. Perhaps she should be grateful for her forethought.
She handed Lord Frossly the glass and poured herself some. The day hadn’t gone as she planned; however, she had to believe this was meant to happen exactly as it had. She wanted to become more acquainted with Lord Frossly, and this was her opportunity to do so. She wouldn’t waste a single moment…
Chapter 6
It had been three weeks since her arrival in Peacehaven, and nothing there suggested her parents would relent on their banishment. She had managed to write and actually liked a little of what she’d created. It might not be a masterpiece, but it was her labor of love. Maybe one day she’d be able to publish her novel. It wasn’t unheard-of for a woman to be an author though some stigma was still involved. Jane Austen published anonymously, and her books only stated they were by a lady. At her death in 1817 her brother had published a eulogy letting the world of her published works, and her accomplishments as an author. Charlotte respected Jane Austen and was fascinated with her books.
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. It would hurt not to claim the book as her own, but she supposed it might be better if she didn’t publish under her own name. She’d already been quite scandalous, and her parents would only tolerate so much misbehavior. Maybe she could do part of her name…Charlie Ross might work. It was close enough to her own name to satisfy her vanity and society wouldn’t realize a woman had written it.
She wandered down the stairs and entered the sitting room. Aunt Seraphina had her weekly sewing circle gathered. They had a tea service set up with cakes, biscuits, and scones. They made quilts and other small items for the community. The quilts were usually made as gifts to expectant mothers or for new brides. It was the matrons of the community’s way of helping. Charlotte had to admit it was a nice gesture and loved how welcoming the town of Peacehaven had been to her.
“Hello,” she greeted the ladies. “What are you working on today?”
