So was Hugh, but not for food. However, the thought of her company while eating his meal was somewhat pacifying. He stepped out of his room and offered his arm. The light touch of her bare fingers burned through his coat and shirt to his skin below, making him ache for her. Charlotte was tiny, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder, and from his high vantage, Hugh had an excellent view of the ripe swell of her breasts.
He looked away, staring resolutely down the gallery. Unlike the demimondaines with whom he usually associated, it felt wrong to ogle Charlotte as if she were worth nothing more than a good tumble. She was intelligent and kind, as evidenced by her steadfastness in the face of today's events. Fact was, he rather liked her, what little he knew of her, and since he had a few days to fill, he determined to discover as much about her as he could in that time.
As they moved from one hallway to another and prepared to descend the main staircase, Hugh felt as if he were moving through time. The brightly lit and beautifully furnished part of the house faded into the dust-covered and rotting section as easily as they turned the corner.
'It's less of a burden on the servants to maintain only the areas we use regularly,' Charlotte explained before he could ask.
Thinking of the motley crew he'd met so far, he had to agree.
Hugh was relieved to see that the dining room was clean and kept in usable condition, but he was slightly disappointed to see only two place settings on the long mahogany table.
'Is Her Grace not joining us for dinner?' Even as he asked, he wondered why a paid companion would be allowed to dress so beautifully and eat dinner with him instead of with her employer. But he refused to ask. No sane man would question such good fortune.
'She's become accustomed to eating her meals alone.'
'Odd, that,' he murmured as he held a chair for her. He'd made a habit of surrounding himself with large, boisterous groups of people, rarely spending a moment without company of some sort. Eating alone sounded… lonely.
Taking his seat, Hugh settled in to enjoy his meal when a familiar noise drew his attention to the swinging door that led to the kitchen. He shook his head and sighed.
Sure enough, the portal swung open and the young, jittery maid entered. The soup tureen in her hands wobbled alarmingly, and the ladle protruding from it rattled so loudly, nothing else could be heard. Directly on her heels and bearing a pitcher came Tom, the lazy-eyed boy who'd assisted Hugh earlier.
The two servants almost collided, compliments of the madly swinging door. Together they performed an odd sort of spinning dance, stumbling forward and back and around, as they attempted to keep their liquids from spilling out everywhere.
For a moment, Hugh watched the antics in dumbfounded fascination, and then, muttering an oath, he pushed to his feet and rescued the maid from the soup (or the soup from the maid, depending on how one looked at it).
''Tis a wonder you don't starve,' he muttered, and Charlotte laughed.
'They would have been fine, if you'd have given them a moment.'
Hugh shot her a disbelieving glance.
'Truly,' she insisted.
'Are you the only normal individual on the premises?' he rejoined as he took his seat.
The lovely full mouth he found endlessly erotic curved in a wide grin. 'That depends on what you consider normal. Some would say that a young, unmarried woman who chooses to live with a mad duchess is far from normal.' She glanced at the shaking woman at the end of the table. 'You may serve now, Katie.'
The pretty brunette flashed a tentative smile and moved to fill their bowls with soup. Hugh watched as, despite her affliction, she managed the task without spilling a drop onto the pristine tablecloth.
The meal consisted of a variety of delectable dishes, including curried fowl and braised ham, and Charlotte was refreshing and engaging. She made him laugh with her dry wit and was attentive enough to keep his glass filled with wine. Hugh attempted to broach the subject of the duchess, but like a consummate politician, she directed the conversation to lighter topics, such as the spring dance in the village and Mr. Edgewood's skinny, unappetizing pig. Lost in the pleasure of her company, Hugh was content to allow her evasiveness. For the moment.
After dinner they retired to the upstairs library, and Hugh took the opportunity to study her in greater depth. It was easy to discern that she was not merely a paid companion. There was a practiced grace to her movements and a studious understanding of the customs enjoyed by men of privilege. She brought him a cigar, which she lit with expertise. Moving to the sideboard, Charlotte poured a large ration of brandy, which she warmed over a candle flame before bringing it to him. Her hips swayed softly as she approached, her shoulders held back to better display her lovely breasts. The invitation in her eyes was apparent.
'You're attempting to seduce me,' he murmured with a smile, extremely pleased. It was not unusual for women to pursue him, but he was especially enjoying it this evening. Setting his cigar aside, Hugh caught her wrist when she held out the glass and tugged her into his lap. 'Would you like me to take you away from this place?'
As soon as the words left his mouth, he acknowledged what an excellent idea it was. Charlotte was far too lovely to be hidden away, and he could easily see himself keeping her for a while.
She didn't reply. Instead, she turned her face and pressed those lush lips to his. Plump and flavored of wine, her kiss was intoxicating. He was held motionless, achingly touched and aroused by the simple gesture. He, a man consummate in the carnal arts, was arrested by a mere kiss. It was Charlotte who took control of the moment, Charlotte whose tongue licked along his lips and teased for entry. Hugh could only groan and pull her closer.
'Montrose,' she whispered, her forehead pressed to his.
'Hugh.'
'Hugh…' She said his name on a sigh, a warm breath that mingled with his before he breathed in and made it his own. 'I am a woman of the world. I don't need to be rescued.'
Holding her was both pleasure and torment. His cock was hard and swollen against her luscious derriere, aching to fill her. 'What do you want, then, Charlotte?' he asked hoarsely. 'I'll give you anything you desire.'
Her hand came up and entwined in his hair, kneading his scalp, until his eyes closed helplessly, awash in pleasure. The air around them heated, becoming heavy with a desire so intense, it almost frightened him.
The sudden crash in the hall startled them both.
'Damnation,' he cursed, setting her from his lap before rising to his feet and striding to the door. Throwing it open, he stuck his head out and found Katie down the hall with a broken pitcher at her feet. Noting the blood that pooled in her palm, he hurried to her side, pulling out his handkerchief as he went.
'Poor thing,' he murmured, dabbing at the cut. 'It must hurt terribly.'
''Tis nothing. Please…'
It was the first time Hugh had heard her speak, and her soft, lyrical voice drew his gaze upward. He found her crying.
Flustered by her tears, he sought to soothe her. 'Charlotte will have you good as new in a moment.'
'It's not that,' she sobbed. 'I broke the pitcher.'
'That old thing?' he dismissed gruffly. 'I shall purchase a dozen more for you when this storm has abated. Then you can break as many as you like.'
Katie lifted her face and gave him a grateful, wavering smile. Hugh coughed in embarrassment and looked away, relieved when Charlotte knelt beside them and took the girl's hand. Straightening, he backed up a step.
Charlotte examined the wound. 'We must go to the kitchen to tend this.' She offered him a silent apology with her eyes. 'You can retire. I'll manage.'
'I'd like to help.'
'Truly, there's nothing you can do but watch. And it's been a long day. I shall see you tomorrow.'
Hugh hesitated a moment before nodding his acquiesce. Charlotte was obviously accustomed to handling her affairs alone, and the dismissal was obvious. He would not be seeing her again tonight.
He didn't understand why he wished to help her carry this burden, and any others she might have. He avoided responsibility whenever possible, and Charlotte was made of stern stuff, he knew. Yet there it was, the unmistakable desire to take care of her.
After the two women disappeared around the corner, Hugh entered his suite and locked the door. No longer distracted by his attraction to Charlotte, his thoughts returned to where he was and the situation he was in.
