you."
"Another social call? At this time of night?" Lina said archly. "There are other people you treat as rudely as you do me?"
"Would you have preferred I wait until morning. Lady Whitmore?" he asked in his steady voice.
She glared at him. "Point taken. We'll be ready within the hour. If you're not here we'll go ahead without you." She swept from the room without another word, not even looking at Charlotte.
Simon Pagett met her curious gaze wilh a wry smile. "She doesn't like me, I'm afraid."
"Perhaps you might get along better if you didn't criticize her."
"I'm not sure if that's a good idea," he said, half to himself. "By your leave, Miss Spenser."
After he left, Charlotte found Lina rushing around her rooms, flinging clothes around as Meggie and one of the upstairs maids tried to keep up with her. "Do you need help, dearest?" she called out to Charlotte as she paused in the doorway.
"It won't take me that long," she said. "You didn't tell me that Mr. Pagett was so young."
"Didn't I? Well, I suppose he is. Younger than he looks, apparently. But he's got the soul of a crabby, Charlotte remembered his wry, charming smile and the odd expression in his eyes when they rested on Lina. "If you say so," she said doubtfully.
Lina already had a trunk mostly filled, with enough on her bed to fill another.
"How long are we planning to stay?" Charlotte asked. "You're packing enough for the entire
"Well, one never knows what might come up. I need to bring my new dresses, but I wouldn't want to be without some of my other clothes. I wouldn't want Mr. Pagett to think my new colors and necklines have anything to do with him."
"Why should they?" Charlotte asked, momentarily mystified.
Lina's laugh was brittle. "Indeed, why should they? Are you packed, dearest?"
"It won't take but a moment. No, Meggie, you stay and help Lina. You know it won’t take me more than a minute or two to get what we'll need, and Sussex is not at the end of the world. We can always send back to London if we've left too much behind."
"Of course we can," Lina declared feverishly. She came over and gave Charlotte an exuberant hug.
"I'm glad we're leaving, aren't you? You don't want to risk running into Adrian again, and I'm dreadfully, dreadfully tired of town right now. The countryside will be perfect."
Charlotte looked at her askance. "But Lord Montague..." she said doubtfully.
"He's not going to die, Charlotte. I refuse to let such a dreadful thing happen. He's got years left, I've been assured of that."
"Who assured you?" she asked, remembering Lord Montague's pale, frail appearance. "A doctor?"
"Well, in fact I believe it was Adrian Rohan," Lina admitted. "But his cousin, thai awful Frenchman, used to be a doctor, so I imagine that's the next best thing. Adrian says that in another month or so Monty will be out doing something absurd like rowing on the Thames or dancing half clad and well to the boughs in Hyde Park after midnight."
Charlotte said nothing. Clearly Lina had no desire to believe anything else. If Lord Montague lasted another month Charlotte would be much surprised. There would be no reason for Pagett to summon them if the end wasn't near. But they would take things as they came. At least she was getting far enough away that she wouldn't be tempted by Adrian Rohan ever again Adrian was in a thoroughly foul mood. His insouciance had only carried him so far. Once Charlotte Spenser walked into the house, his lazy smile vanished. He dismissed his carriage—the walk back to Curzon Street was short and he needed to work off his bad temper.
He'd certainly handled that well, he thought savagely. He'd thought to make her so mad at him that she wouldn't ever countenance touching him again. Then, when he'd decided to have her after all, he'd worked her into such a state of excitement that his own arousal had been painful. And then she hadn't given in.
He cursed at the thought. What kind of games was he playing? He wasn't sure if he wanted to win or to lose. And what the hell was wrong with him? Charlotte Spenser? She was older than he was, for God's sake. She was an antidote—no one wanted her. She'd had at least one season, he supposed, since he remembered dancing with her, but clearly no one had offered for her, and by now she was a complete spinster,