“Oh, there you are,” Kat said. “Auntie had tea service prepared. She asks if you will join us.”
Char smiled. “We’ll be right along, Kat. Thank you.” She looked down, her fingers entwined, waiting for her sister to depart. When the door shut, she faced him again. “Mr. Forrester. Joshua. I am certain you mean well, but I can assure you, what happens in my life happens because I wish it. Know that I appreciate your concern, but I have family to help bear any burdens I have—real or imagined.”
At some point in their discussion, they’d drawn together and were standing very near each other, face-to-face.
Could she not see he was only trying to help?
Or was he seeing only the naked woman who adorned DuChamp’s couch? The woman who required his help.
“Does your family know how you spend your afternoons?”
“Sir. You intrude.”
He gripped her elbow. It wasn’t like him to mishandle a woman. “Did Arthur leave you in bad circumstances?”
Char extended her hand, intending to slap him, as he deserved. But she caught herself. What was meant to be a stinging reproof ended up a light tap on his face. The kind that could make one laugh at its absurdity.
He did something worse than laugh.
He placed his hands upon her shoulders, gently, and drew her close. It happened so quickly. Yes, he had been thinking about her since their dance, and in a loose, dreamy way about the naked display of her body upon DuChamp’s couch.
He bent toward Char, pressing his lips to hers.
Several things happened at once. His hand had curled around the back of her neck, she responded with sweet urgency and then some abrupt noise from outside the room startled them and broke them apart, panting and wide-eyed.
There was a fleeting expression, first of longing and then disgust.
He was no better, feeling a strong pull of desire in his groin. Taking her in his arms again would have solved several of his immediate needs.
She licked at her lips and stepped away. How had he missed the beauty she was—rosy-cheeked with somnolent, blue eyes that had set him on fire.
“I must apologize. I did not intend to… How may I make amends?”
Char Dunlevee drew back her hand and slapped him in earnest before she departed the room.
This time his cheek stung as if he’d been slapped by a bossy governess.
When she was gone, he let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, shit.”
So this was how men got caught in the marriage trap—a little dab of honey and a hungry bear.
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAR HELD THE POSIES and the missive from Mr. Forrester. A servant had delivered them to her as she was coming from the breakfast room to join her sisters and aunt in the front sitting room.
J Forrester was written with perfect penmanship as the sender. And her name, a lovely scroll, the C large and with curlicues at the tips of the letter.
Was Joshua pacing the floor of his home, wondering what he had done wrong? She had returned his kiss after all. What did he mean to say to her? An apology, surely. How utterly embarrassing and double-minded!
Kat tried to examine the note over Char’s shoulder. “Is it for me? Or Prim? Oh, I knew he was interested in one of us. Was that why he talked to you privately?”
“You’ll notice it is addressed to me.”
“To you?”
“No, it is nothing.”
It was everything. What was he thinking?
Kissing her? Making her feel wonderful and terrible?
“Read it!”
Oh bother, Kat wouldn’t let it go unless she knew the contents. “We had an argument yesterday. It is an apology.”
At least she hoped that it was. In a very short amount of time, they’d talked about very intimate matters.
After Arthur’s death, probably within a month, she’d no longer bothered to explain herself. She’d been in the room when he’d died and she’d stared with open-mouthed helplessness as his body crumpled and landed on the hardwood floor. Blood covered her hands and skirt as she’d tried to help him. It was such a private matter, and having Joshua pry set her teeth on edge.
“You’re pale. What’s the matter?” Kat asked.
With Kat’s concerned words, Prim and Jenny glanced at her. Lady Beckham raised her brows. “What is it? Has something happened?”
“No. No. I was just thinking about Arthur.” She pressed the posies to her nose and inhaled the subtle fragrance. She tried to remember Joshua instead of her deceased husband, or rather the Joshua she’d known as a girl.
“Hmpf. He might have died a peaceful death and allowed you to sleep at night,” her aunt said.
“I know it was awful for you,” Jenny said. Sweet Jenny.
“Let’s not speak of it,” Char said.