An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 6.2.2. For Propriety's Sake

Benedic crossed his right arm behind his neck, cursing aloud at the agony the casual movement caused. "I'm curious. How did I compare to your lover in the park?"

Charlotte could not miss the catch of pain in his voice. Like it or not, the man needed medical help, and for the life of her she had no idea how to bring a doctor up here in secret.

"I don't know how you compare, " she said. "It's none of your business."

His grin was positively diabolical for a man in so much pain. "It can't have been much of a kiss. I can only assume mine was better."

There wasn't any comparison in Charlotte's mind. Baron Alford's kiss had been uncontrolled and ill timed, nothing that sent sparkling heat through a young woman's body. Nothing that burnished her from inside out like French champagne, even though at the time it had seemed like the most daring risk in the world.

And she'd gotten caught in the act. How would her long-suffering siblings react if they could see her now?

She came to her feet, feeling safer with distance between them. She noticed that he made no attempt to stop her. Was the pain weakening him? Was this entire frivolous conversation designed to distract him from his discomfort? Charlotte had to wonder.

"Your kiss," she said softly, staring down at him as one might a wild animal whose nature was unknown, "was much, much worse. Horrid even."

He had the indignity to laugh at her. "Of course it wasn't. Do you remember his name?"

"Whose name?"

"You've already forgotten."

"When are you going to leave?" She asked, twisting her hands behind her back before strangled him.

"In a day or so."

"A day or so!" she burst out in a half shriek of horror.

He scowled. "Unless you are known to shout in your sleep, I suggest you keep your voice down. Might I borrow a blanket for the night? For propriety's sake I shall sleep in here."

"For propriety's sake," she muttered. As if there was even a shred of propriety in this man's life. Well, it was a good thing she had been brought up with Brumidge boys, or she might have fallen into a swoon and not recovered.

"Do you intend to sleep on the floor?" she asked.

"Unless you're offering to share your bed "

"I wouldn't share a box with you."

"I didn't ask you to."

Charlotte studied his inert form, uncertain what to do. "You ought to put a fresh bandage on your shoulder."

"If you want to be helpful, stop jabbering like a maiden aunt and leave me alone." He felt behind him on the floor with his good arm. Charlotte guessed the headstrong monster did not want her to see him in pain. "I don't suppose that wild brother of yours drank any brandy during his visits?"

"I am not running a coaching inn for uncouth men, sir."

"What the devil is this?" His composure was deteriorating; he scowled as he tugged a brass naval telescope out from beneath his backside. "Is this yours?"

"It belongs to my uncle's cousin. I borrowed it." She hoped he could not see the guilty embarassment in her eyes. The truth was that she and Paulina had smuggled the telescope up here to watch the woods for Damon's arrival.

And to entertain themselves by observing Strathmere's house for his notorious ghost.

"You borrowed a telescope, " he said blankly. "Why?"

"For,er, bird-watching?"

"Bird-watching?"

"That's what I said."

He gritted his teeth. "Just go to bed. Pull the covers over your head. Please. Leave me alone to be miserable. If I'm dead in the morning, you have my permission to start screaming and pretend to faint. If I'm not dead and you tell anyone—well, I think you know what will happen, don't you?"

Charlotte didn't respond to his threat. Somewhere in the last twenty minutes the situation had taken a drastic turn. He was no longer in control. She was. She could stroll out of her room and summon help. She could even tie her captor up in her stockings and humiliate him to her heart's content.

His eyes were sagging shut. He did not look well at all. She backed away from him, her hand lifting to the doorknob. Blustering brute of a man. Poor wretched beast, roaring in misery. Whether he realized it or not, she wasn't his prisoner now. He was hers.

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