How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,59
he knew her. “You – let’s say – inspired the girls?”
Charlaine grinned at him. “I may have,” she admitted slowly, seeing how he fought the smile that inched onto his face. Then she sighed, stepped toward him and gave him an honest smile. “I’m sorry, Nathanial. I suppose I shouldn’t have.”
“Then why did you?”
Charlaine shrugged. “I’m not certain,” she admitted. “Perhaps I simply like to ruffle your feathers, has that never occurred to you? I like the way you roll your eyes at me, the way you try not to laugh, and the way you fight to be so very serious.”
A warm chuckle rumbled in his throat and, for a second, Charlaine thought that she saw a tinge of red creep onto his cheeks. “Do you now?” he asked as the grin upon his face grew wider.
“Are you angry with me?”
Nathanial threw up his hands. “As though I ever could be.” Then he turned and headed up the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at her, a warm smile upon his lips. “I’ll see you at supper.”
Watching him vanish from sight, Charlaine momentarily contemplated changing herself. Still, her dress only had a few wet spots here and there and hardly any green grass stains at all so she shrugged and headed toward the library instead. Perhaps she ought to pick a good book to read tonight to help her mind drift off to sleep after such an eventful and exciting day.
As she walked down the corridor, Pierce’s voice called out to her. “Charlie, do you have a moment?”
Turning toward him, Charlaine stepped past him into his study, her eyes lingering upon his face, noting a slight strain there. “Are you all right? Is Caroline?”
Closing the door behind her, Pierce heaved a deep sigh, then beckoned her forward, urging her to sit down in the armchair opposite his desk. “Do not worry,” he told her as he seated himself. “We are all fine. I simply meant to speak to you.”
Charlaine held his gaze. “What is it then? I must admit, you look quite uncomfortable.”
Pierce chuckled. It was a slightly tense sound. “You may be right about that,” he admitted. Holding her gaze, he inhaled a slow, deep breath, then said, “This is about Nathanial.”
“Nathanial?” Charlaine frowned. “You speak in riddles, Pierce. Would you please explain yourself?”
Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and rested his elbows upon his desk. “Very well,” he began, still looking slightly uncomfortable. “I admit I meant to speak to you even before now, though, I never quite found the right moment.”
Charlaine chuckled. “Or the courage.”
Pierce grinned at her, then nodded. “Quite true.” He cleared his throat. “Well then, to get this over with: what I meant to speak to you about is your reputation and how it might suffer if you continue to spend time alone with Mr. Caswell.”
Charlaine fought to suppress a grin. “Mr. Caswell? What happened to Nathanial?”
Pierce rolled his eyes at her. “Do you have to make this so difficult?”
“It is not difficult for me,” she remarked with a grin, then sighed. “Are you truly intent on having this conversation?”
“I am your guardian,” Pierce pointed out, a new sternness coming to his features. “Peter entrusted your well-being to me, your future, and I intend to take it seriously.” For a moment, he held her gaze, and his features softened. “You’re family, Charlie, and I only want the best for you. I hope you do not hold it against me.”
Leaning back in her chair, Charlaine settled herself more comfortably, now completely at ease knowing that no disaster or tragedy awaited her. “I love you as well,” she told him openly, amused by his way of shifting in his seat and dropping his gaze ever so briefly. “However, I do not believe there is a point in speaking about my reputation.”
Pierce lifted a finger to object. “I disagree. You might not be as familiar with English society as I am, I’m afraid, but I assure you that finding a decent husband will be almost impossible if your reputation is in tatters. People here do not forgive and forget. Not ever. And at some point in your life, you might find yourself at their mercy.”
Charlaine sighed, knowing full well that her life in England would not be as simple as the one she had left behind. “Pretend all you like,” she told Pierce with more bravado than she felt, “but we both know that being who I am, I’ll never have a chance at a so-called decent husband.”