“Does that mean if I were mistress of Woodrest, you’d leave London of your own volition?” Lottie teased.
Agatha harrumphed but the twinkle remained.
“That’s what I thought. In the past ten years, I think you’ve left London only a handful of times. Two in recent history were because you had to chaperone me.”
“Surely more than a handful,” Agatha said.
Ticking the list off on her fingers, Lottie said, “One picnic on the heath where you complained of the wind and the flat champagne—”
“But the pudding was passable.”
“Yes, the pudding was decent. Then there’s the much-dreaded annual house party at the Clemens estate over Christmas, and Mother’s funeral.”
“I couldn’t miss that, now could I?”
Lottie smiled at the bittersweet memory. “That day would have been impossible without you. Even if you did stand at the graveside fussing at Mother for dying in the depths of Westmorland instead of someplace civilized.”
Outside the window, Ethan rode Ezra back to her side of the carriage. With a look he asked a silent question, which she answered with a nod. Yes, all was well. He pointed to a spot in the distance.
“We are almost there. Or at least, I think that’s where Ethan is pointing.”
“Perfect. My old bones are done rattling around in this box on wheels.”
The damp low-lying fog shrouded the lines of a stone house, making it appear as if the battlements and rooflines rose out of thin air.
“It reminds me of a castle from Arthurian legend.” Lottie smiled at the utter ridiculousness of the architecture, with its frivolous curves offset by crenellations and gargoyles, all hovering above the mist.
“One of his ancestors must have been of a fanciful bent when designing this estate,” Agatha said. “If you were to give me babies to spoil, I might resign myself to spending quite a bit of time here.”
Lottie rolled her eyes. “You know this engagement is temporary.”
“And you know that brawny gentleman out there would make it real in a heartbeat. He has ridden in the rain and drizzle for the last few hours just so we would have more room in this coach. You should keep him.” Agatha pointed a bony finger toward Ethan, who appeared soaked to the skin despite a hat and caped overcoat.
Dark curls had tightened in the damp, and no doubt they’d wind around her fingers if she ran a hand through his hair. The white shirt he wore would be transparent without the coat, clinging to each line of his muscular torso. Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d see him without the coat soon. Lottie blew out a slow breath. The restriction of her stays grew uncomfortable at the mental image.
The coach rolled to a stop before stone steps and a massive wooden door. The huge knocker, made to resemble dragon’s teeth holding a metal ring, looked ready to bite the next unwelcome visitor. In line with the whimsical architecture, even the entryway embraced the dramatic.
The door eased open, and a well-dressed wiry man with a peg leg stood in the doorway. He greeted them by saying, “Welcome home, Ethan. Ge’ those London birds out of the rain before they melt, aye?”
Although Ethan shook his head, his smile implied this cheeky behavior was expected. “Lady Agatha and Lady Charlotte, this is Connor. He runs Woodrest and drives me crazy while he does it. In case you couldn’ tell, we’re an informal household.”
Lottie grinned at Connor. “A pleasure to meet you, Connor. Ethan told me how indispensable you are to his home.”
Connor nodded a bit coolly. “If ye need anything, jus’ ask. Let’s get ye settled in rooms.”
Taking her hand on the stairs to the great door, Ethan asked, “What do you think of my house, lass? ’Tis a wee bit of a mishmash after all the ancestors left their mark.”
“If a squat castle indulged in an unholy union with a Gothic cathedral, this house might be the result. I rather like it.”
He laughed. “Aye, I think you have the right of it.”
A curving staircase opened up to the hall inside. Their fingers interlaced as he led her to the next floor in silence. She bit her lip to hide the smile at how the simple action affected her. Every brush of fingers or casual show of affection pushed her further from her comfort zone. Yet the bubbling sensation beneath her breastbone compelled Lottie to discover that tantalizing more—that lust and everything it could contain—and with every touch, the curiosity grew. It might be time to have a frank conversation with Darling, and fast. Darling’s advice on physical matters between a man and a woman would be unvarnished truth. This time away from London might be the best time to explore this feeling that had grown between her and Ethan. Once the thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t get rid of it. Truth be told, she didn’t want to get rid of it.
He walked ahead of her down the long hall, and she took the opportunity to let her eyes linger. Long powerful legs, confident stride. The deeply tanned nape peeking out beneath dark, damp curls. And lord, those shoulders. She knew how that torso looked without clothing, and now she knew how it felt under her hands. Lottie pressed a palm low over her belly as if to hide the heat growing there.
What if she treated this time away from London as a sort of escape? Here they could do whatever they wanted. Indulge in a mutually satisfactory exploration of lust and get this desire out of their systems. If, in a few weeks, she did her duty and agreed to marriage with someone her father approved of, at least she could do whatever she wanted first. This was her chance to make memories that would keep her warm for the rest of her days.
Pushing open a wooden plank door, he lingered in the doorway. Lottie forced herself to focus on her assigned bedroom instead of her
