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“You must leave at once. If someone sees us, your reputation will be ruined.” He stood up from his seat, urging her to leave, but all she did was shrug and sit beside him. She placed her palm flat on the bench, pulling her white gloves back up over her elbows.

She glanced over at him, raising her eyebrows slightly. “That is not an issue. Your implied ruination of me will only serve to hinder a wedding I do not want.”

He paused, taking a deep breath and sitting beside her. For a moment, she thought he might tell her what was wrong. “How can I have only known you for shy of two hours and I can already feel you grating on my nerves?”

“I have been known to have that effect,” Charlotte shrugged. “What made you leave?”

He shook his head. “If I say that I saw my former betrothed, would that be enough for you?” he asked. “It was the first time since she ended our engagement and as you have already figured out, it is all still very raw.”

Charlotte nodded her head and smoothed out the wrinkles on her seafoam green dress. The satin shimmered, catching what little light illuminated them in the gardens. His face was nearly a shadow, but he still drew her in, his lips soft and lonely. “And you still love her?”

William started from the question, shifting in his seat, he turned towards her more, his knee pressing against hers. “What kind of business do you have asking me such things?”

“We are courting,” she reminded him.

He scoffed. “Not until tomorrow morning. Tonight, we are nothing but strangers.”

She shrugged. “Hm.” She paused. “That does not dissuade me from asking.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and relaxed, his knee pressing more against hers. “Yes,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, I am still in love with her. Are you happy?”

“Delighted,” she said, biting her lip hard to stop it from stinging as she’d already shredded it throughout the course of the conversation. “It makes me feel better to know that you are too occupied to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” He nearly fell out of his seat.

She nodded, eyes widening to assure him that he was the daftest man she’d had the pleasure of meeting in quite some time.

“How insulting,” he said. “With you? No. I have better things to do.”

“Then may I ask why you look at me the way you do?”

“The way I do?”

“So…” she laughed. “It is strange. I have never noticed a man look at my mouth so much. I am hoping to learn that you hear by manner of reading lips because I do not…well I think it would be complicated if you sought anything from it.”

William released a breathy laugh, his mouth hanging open at her forwardness. He frowned. “Are you insinuating that I am physically attracted to you?”

“How rude!” She swatted his shoulder with her hand. “But yes, that is precisely what I am saying.”

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “And if I were, would that be unwelcome?”

“Um,” she paused. She knew what she wanted to say, but wording it elegantly was not so easy. “This is an interesting turn of events. If I admit to such feelings, then I would not be surprised to hear that you duped me into a confession when you yourself are against the very feeling. You are precisely the kind of man to trick me, but I am no fool.”

“I am doing no such thing.” William paused. “It seems ignoble to tell a woman that you find her physically pleasing and nothing else. I am not a rake.”

“Oh,” she said. “Never have been? Never? Not even once?”

“Not even once, what?” he asked.

“I can only hold my suspension of disbelief for so long, my lord. I am sure you are as much a sinner as the next man.”

He frowned. “I am not a rake,” he repeated.

“But if you were,” she suggested.


Tags: Maybel Bardot Historical