Page 7 of One Jewel-tide Scandal (Singular Sensation #10.5)

By the time Charlotte woke the next morning—rather late for her—the carriage-style clock on the mantel softly chimed the ten o’clock hour, but she had a difficult time hearing the tiny bells over the howling wind that continued to drive snow against the windows.

Clearly, the storm that had started yesterday evening was still in effect with wind and snow and chilly temperatures. That meant the roads wouldn’t be passable for some time, and neither would Sir Alexander’s traveling coach be fetched and repaired any time soon.

With a sigh, she slipped out of bed and crossed the room, shivering as she went, to yank on the bell pull that would summon her maid.

While she’d slept, one of the house maids had come in and revived the fire that had died during the night.

It was a much-appreciated nicety, especially in the drafty old manor.

By the time her personal maid arrived, Charlotte had washed her face and done the necessary, then wrapped a warm dressing gown around her person.

“Good morning, Abby.”

The young woman gave her a smile. “Good morning, Your Ladyship.” She followed Charlotte into the adjoining dressing-sitting room. The fire danced cheerfully in that hearth since the structure was shared by both rooms. “Will you want a tray and tea?”

“I will, thank you.” When she settled herself on a comfortable sofa, she pulled a soft and well-loved knitted blanket over her lap. It had been a gift from the housekeeper years ago. “I don’t feel up to going downstairs just yet.”

Also, she wanted to avoid the baron at all costs.

Of course, he was probably a nice person, and his manners spoke to being raised with refinement, but his presence had discomfited her, just as his words about marriage had.

It was exactly what she’d thought as a young bride, what she’d hoped to have in her marriage but didn’t.

Stuart’s problems had opened her eyes to the disappointments of life, but there had been nothing she could do except accept them.

Oddly enough, even though she was sad about her husband’s passing, those dreams persisted in sticking about her mind, and had been dusted off during her conversation with the baron.

“I will have your favorites ordered,” Abby said as she puttered about the room, tidying it as she went. “The servants’ hall is buzzing from the arrival of Sir Alexander.”

“I imagine everyone is quite excited to have a visitor,” she responded and tried not to show too much enthusiasm, for the baron was only here as a quirk of fate. Not permanently.

It wouldn’t do to find herself overly attached.

“The maids all think he is quite handsome, and his coach driver is nothing to sneeze at in looks either,” Abby continued as she pawed through the wardrobe as was her custom each morning, even though they both knew Charlotte only wore the same handful of dresses or gowns.

“I’m afraid I hadn’t noticed Sir Alexander’s looks,” she confessed in a whisper while her cheeks burned from the lie. “Hopefully, the storm will blow itself out soon and they can resume their travels.”

“Mmm.” Abby was oddly noncommittal as she pulled a pretty frock from the wardrobe that hadn’t seen the light of day for more than a few years.

Made of bleached muslin, it was dainty and quite feminine, and in keeping with the upcoming holiday season, it was trimmed with red embroidery around the bodice and short sleeves while holly leaves and berries danced around the lower hem.

“Perhaps you should wear this tonight for dinner.”

“Why?” Charlotte frowned. “It’s a bit young for me, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. You only think that because you have been wearing partial mourning clothes for longer than you should.” She winked. “I will have it pressed. Meanwhile, what dress would you like to wear today?”

Ugh. Why did she have to make these decisions day in and day out? Why couldn’t someone just dress her, tell her where to go and what to do so she wouldn’t need to think about anything? With a sigh, Charlotte waved a hand. “Let’s do the lavender wool with long sleeves.”

“That is a rather dull choice for entertaining, Your Ladyship.”

Annoyance stabbed through her chest. “I can’t help that we have an unexpected visitor. Nothing has changed, Abby. I am still me, so the lavender wool will be sufficient.” Immediately, she regretted snapping at the maid. “I’m sorry. Perhaps this weather has me out of sorts.”

“I understand.” The maid pulled the dress from the wardrobe as well. “I will see both are pressed and order your tray.”

“Thank you.”

An air of hesitation took hold of the maid. “The Christmastide season is approaching, and we were talking in the servants’ hall that since we have a guest, perhaps we could bring out a few decorations this year.”

Dear God. Did everyone have Christmastide on their mind except her? Well, to be fair, the baron didn’t care for such things either, but he didn’t count, for he would soon be on his way.

Wouldn’t he?

“I promise to think about it. Tell the staff to go ahead and bring down some boxes.” Truth to tell, it was the least she could do, for they lived at Spencerford Hall too, and it wasn’t their fault she didn’t have a fondness for Christmastide.

Not an auspicious start to the day.

By mid-afternoon, she was bored and the thought of hiding in her rooms for the duration had become distasteful.

Cleo, especially, didn’t enjoy being confined, for the cat usually had the run of the manor.

The cat had been restless, which had mirrored Charlotte’s bid to find easy sleep overnight, but it was probably due to the arrival of a dog.

She’d never been introduced to dogs, not even the estate’s hounds, but she would have smelled them on Stuart’s clothing when he returned from his hunts.

Once the cat established dominance, all would be well.

Charlotte snorted as she wandered the corridors. Would the same be said for herself? Ever since Abby put the idea of decorating for Christmastide into her mind, her brain had decided nothing else mattered except that.

Why shouldn’t she put out a few things? And it had nothing to do with Sir Alexander’s arrival.

She simply wished for a change, and the sparkle of the decorations in candlelight was quite pretty.

And since the staff had already been informed that they could bring down said decorations, where was the harm?

The quiet flutter of the wool blend dress gave her a modicum of comfort as she trailed down the stairs.

The lavender dress was a dull choice, of course, but it was the easier one.

Would she ever wear anything that didn’t remind her of mourning?

That remained to be seen. But the high collar was of lovely lace and the sleeves were long and fit tightly on the forearm.

Her half boots barely made a sound over the floors as she made her way to the drawing room.

“Oh!” Not able to hide her surprise as her gaze alighted on the baron. “I didn’t know you would be in here. I just came to retrieve my embroidery work.” That was truth, for she did enjoy keeping her hands busy in that regard.

He glanced up from reading a copy of The Times that was at least two weeks old.

When he gave her a slightly lopsided grin that brought out a dimple in his left cheek, odd flutters sailed through her lower belly.

“Good afternoon, Your Ladyship,” he said as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’d wondered if you would make an appearance. ”

“I… uh… There were things I needed to attend to,” she said quickly as she headed for her customary chair.

Unfortunately, it was close to his location, but she couldn’t help that.

“I trust you slept well?” Various candles about the room provided a cozy atmosphere and kept back some of the gloom from the storm outside.

“I did. Thank you. The room and bed were quite comfortable.” Once she’d seated herself, he did the same. “But I must ask, do you not enjoy breaking your fast, Lady Charlotte, or were you avoiding me?” The deep timbre of his voice was quite delicious.

“Oh…” Heat invaded her cheeks. She shifted her attention to Charlie, who slept on an opposite sofa, curled into a tight ball. “Suffice it to say I was a bit overwhelmed. It is rare I have visitors, let alone of the male variety.”

“I see.” Though he wore the same clothing as yesterday—buff-colored breeches, staid blue waistcoat, and a brown jacket of superfine—he looked every inch the gentleman about Town.

Perhaps he had shaving supplies in the valise he’d brought with him.

The newspaper rattled as he folded it. “You can’t shut yourself way from life forever. ”

Why did everyone offer unsolicited advice today?

“It’s not that I’m doing such, Sir Tattington, it is just that I’ve quite forgotten how to get on without having my husband to care for.

” Not that she owed him an explanation. “I barely remember how to act in polite society, and being this far removed from London, I have grown used to only having Cleo as a companion.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded and rested the folded newspaper on a small table at his elbow.

“Yet cats aren’t the best company on most days.

Far too independent.” He pointed to his beagle who continued to sleep though one ear twitched.

“Dogs, on the other hand, are constantly needy. No rest for the wicked there.”

“Perhaps.” She frowned as she contemplated the cheerful flames of the fire behind the ornate metal grate that resembled a lady’s fan.

“Buggar it.” A huff of impatience or annoyance left him. “Please, call me Alexander. Now is not the time for formality.”

Her heartbeat accelerated, whether from his use of vulgarity or from his request, she couldn’t say, but she gave into the urge to grin. “I am Charlotte. The title of countess sits rather empty these days.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Sincerity rang in his voice as a blush raged in her cheeks.