Page 45 of Charlotte's Kisses

“Indeed,” Charlotte said. “If I wear your dress and cloak, everyone will believe I am you, and I can sneak away. Meanwhile, you shall stay in my chamber again tonight. If anyone enters the room, hide beneath the counterpane and pretend to be asleep.”

Unblinking, eyes wide, Lucy nodded her acquiescence. “I do hope Lord Nash proposes soon. I do not want your reputation to be ruined, and mayhap then you will not be so glum.”

Apparently, Lucy had not yet heard that Papa had promised her to Nash. “But I do not wish to marry Lord Nash.” The thought of him made Charlotte itch so severely it was as if insects crawled along her limbs.

“Then why are you sneaking off to be with him?” Lucy asked.

“I am not sneaking off to be with him.”

“I do not understand,” Lucy said. “Then why have you been crying and who are you meeting?”

Moaning, Charlotte rubbed her forehead. “I am afraid I have fallen head over heels for the man staying in the cottage. His name is Hugh Fletcher. I fancy him so.” She had already cried enough, so she swallowed hard to ward off her impending tears. “I believe Lady Chesterhill started the salacious rumors about him.”

Lucy gasped. “But why would she do such a thing? What will Lord Chesterhill say?”

Charlotte had been asking those same questions all afternoon. “I do not know why, other than she despises me so much that she aims to crush my heart. And my father is too preoccupied with something else to notice her nefarious deeds.”

“Oh, my lady, my heart does hurt for you.” Lucy stood. “I will return in a few moments.”

“Where are you going?” Charlotte asked.

“To retrieve my cloak,” Lucy declared as she clasped Charlotte in a warm hug.

Charlotte’s disguise worked. She marched out the servant’s entrance with nary a nod in her direction. Then, she trekked to the cottage without incident. Despite the wavering emotions she had felt most of the day, she confidently knocked on Hugh’s door.

There was no answer.

Since the cottage was dark, he was probably asleep. She nudged the door open and stepped inside, aiming the lantern into the corners.

No Hugh. How utterly disappointing. Although someone had left a large stack of newspapers.

She set the basket and lantern on the table and rummaged through the supplies she had left earlier. It seemed Hugh had eaten the bacon and the rest of the pie. She arranged thick slices of ham, a wedge of cheese, and a loaf of fresh bread onthe table. Once Hugh returned, they could enjoy a light repast and then make love for hours.

Her overpowering desire knocked the breath from her lungs and left an ache between her thighs. Oh, the things he had done to her quivering lady parts with his tongue. Her cheeks burned from the memory and then heated even more as she considered asking him to do it again. She might even take his manhood in her mouth and taste it. If it was as delectable as the rest of him, she was in for a scrumptious feast. Her mouth watered.

She knew exactly how to pass the time. She would recall all of the pictures inThe Secret Life of Gentlemenand imagine imitating the various positions with Hugh. “Oh,” she gasped at the memory of the illustration of the man kneeling before the woman who had taken his length into her mouth. She moaned as her body tingled.

The memory of her discarded stays sidetracked Charlotte from her fantasies. She should place them in the basket, so she did not forget them in the morning.

Lantern in hand, she crawled beneath the bed to search for them. Unfortunately, one edge of the fabric was lodged beneath a massive wooden trunk that had been pushed into the corner. It took all her strength to move the monstrous box a fraction of an inch. There was no way she would be able to free her stays. Hugh would have to help her.

While preparing to stand, a slip of paper caught her eye. She scooped it up, held it close to the light, and read,Mistresses.At the top of the list was the nameLady Mary Ravenforde.

She scanned the note, her gaze landing on Suzannah Devlin. What the dickens? Suzannah Devlin was her stepmother’s name before she married her father.

“Please, no,” Charlotte murmured as every accusation against Hugh came back to her.

Nay, this could not be a list of Hugh’s lovers. She believed in him. She trusted him. She might even love him.

And then her heart split in two.

“You are a fool, Charlotte Beckett,” she whispered. Just because she was falling in love with him did not mean he reciprocated the feeling.

The halves of her heart split into shards. She plopped onto the chair and sat in stunned silence.

She remained catatonic, bewildered, and heartbroken for a very long while. Eventually, she found the resolve to stand. She could not stay there awaiting Hugh’s return. In fact, she could not face him ever again. He was probably at this very minute with one of his lovers—maybe even her stepmother. “Bluck.” She choked down her sob.

As betrayed as she felt, she did not want Hugh to go hungry, so she left him the food and retrieved her lantern. Moving at a snail’s pace, she mindlessly wandered home.