“I think we should…” What, Alec wondered? What should they do? When she gazed at him that way, his brain ground to a halt, and there was only one thing he could think of. “We should… ah… ah… have an expert in to value the collection. We should have done it before this. Yes, that’s it.”
“But what would that tell us about robbery or murder?”
“Who knows?” Alec hurried on before she could argue. “What I mean is, money is a powerful draw for many people. I’ll arrange for the valuation, shall I?”
Charlotte hesitated, then nodded. He wanted to ask if she had forgiven him but didn’t dare. He became aware of the fact that he was creating an excuse to see her again, and again. He should go now—leave the table while he was ahead—but he couldn’t quite make himself walk out the door. “Trask is a good man.” It sounded inane.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you have him here.”
She nodded, and waited.
“Well, I… Oh! That wretched cat. I’ll take it back, if you wish.” It came out reluctant, because it was.
At last, Charlotte smiled. “Mrs. Trask loves cats. And Callie actually seems to listen to her, mostly. Mr. Trask is going to cut a little door into the back garden. Having a place outside seems to calm Callie.”
“Perhaps she’ll run away,” suggested Alec hopefully.
“Lizzy would never forgive me. I don’t think she will, though. I think she just likes a bit of freedom.” She stood straighter and added, “I hope Lizzy may visit her now and then.”
Alec started to tell her that Lizzy was in disgrace and would not be allowed to visit anyone for a very long time, but something in the way she carefully did not look at him changed his mind. Clearly, Charlotte wished for this, and feared it would be refused. “Of course.” He won another smile with this and at last felt the atmosphere lighten.
He had to be satisfied with that small victory, however. After thanking him, Charlotte mentioned that the whole household was very busy, and he could do nothing but take his leave.
Fourteen
A few days later, Charlotte awaited her second caller in much better trim. The drawing room was now established in the larger front chamber, furnished with only those things she had chosen. She wore one of her new gowns, and her hair was carefully dressed. There was no sign of an apron, still less a dust cloth. There would be no repeat of that humiliation. Whenever she thought of the way Sir Alexander had caught her—in a horrid old gown with inches of dust around the hem, her hair all anyway, a smudge on her cheek—she cringed. It was his own fault for forcing his way in, but still…
When he’d appeared, his height and broad shoulders making the room feel much smaller, she’d been so glad to see him—which made her even more furious. She did not wish to care what he thought of her. That moment when he’d looked at her with alien eyes, wondering if she were a danger to his family, had hurt more than any other slight she could remember. She’d seen then how much she wanted him to find her beautiful and accomplished and desirable. That might be a vain dream, but dust and aprons certainly didn’t help.
He had come to her, however. The man who could annihilate Holcombe with a slashing word had taken the trouble to call on her and apologize. Apologize! It had been so long since any man showed concern for her feelings. Henry would have sooner—she couldn’t even think of what would have made him apologize to her.
Sir Alexander would be visiting again when the collection was valued, and again as they “investigated” together. Charlotte’s pulse accelerated at the thought.
There’d been no mention of the kiss, of course. Yet something in his eyes had told her it was as vivid in his memory as in hers. Her recollection of the astonishing sensations that kiss had evoked had made it hard to speak. She’d been inundated by a desire to do it again. She couldn’t, naturally. One kiss could be put down to overindulgence in champagne and overlooked. More would… would what? Ruin her? She had no prospects, a meager income, a marginal toehold in society. As soon as Lady Isabella Danforth tired of squiring her about—as she surely would—Charlotte would be isolated and forgotten once more.
She’d vowed to do as she liked from now on. Could she have a taste of