One Week To Wed. Laurie Benson

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One Week To Wed - Laurie Benson Mills & Boon Historical

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alone with her friend.

      ‘How lovely to see you both enjoying breakfast together,’ she said, taking a seat beside him at the table.

      How long would it take before the woman realised the only thing keeping them in the same room together were those crispy pieces of bacon?

      ‘Did you both sleep well?’ she asked, placing her napkin on her lap, as another footman arrived with a pot of chocolate.

      ‘I did, once the thunderstorm had passed,’ Lady Charlotte replied, staring pointedly at the footman as he poured some of the fragrant liquid into Mrs Knightly’s cup. ‘And thank you for insisting I take your shawl. I find it has grown rather cold.’ She glanced at Andrew and her expression reinforced the subtle gibe.

      ‘Why did you not instruct them to put another log on the fire?’ Mrs Knightly motioned to the footman by the door and that man went about the task. Then she turned to Andrew with a friendly smile. ‘I hope your room is to your liking and you slept well.’

      He managed not to scowl because of the foul mood he suddenly found himself in. ‘It is. The bed is quite comfortable.’ There was no sense in elaborating. The comfort of his mattress had no bearing on his sleep. He never slept well.

      Toby had settled himself at the head of the table with a plate full of food. It was a wonder he did not weigh as much as the Prince Regent if that was how much he ate in the morning. Conversely, Mrs Knightly appeared to have no appetite at all, not even for toast.

      She glanced from Andrew to Lady Charlotte and then back to Andrew, playing with her cup in its saucer. ‘I understand you live in a bachelor’s establishment in London called Albany. Are you able to get a restful night’s sleep with people coming in and out at all hours there? Lady Charlotte lives not far from here in a lovely home with views of scenic fields. It’s quite peaceful there.’

      Lady Charlotte put her fork and knife down very deliberately, but kept her attention on her plate.

      Andrew was glad Lady Charlotte would not be staying at Knightly Hall long. If he had to continually dodge Mrs Knightly’s comments about her friend, it would get exhausting. ‘I assure you the noises and disturbances are kept to a minimum. All the gentlemen who have sets there are very respectful of each other’s privacy and comfort.’

      ‘Is it true women are not allowed on the premises?’

      Mrs Knightly must have interrogated Toby about him. He wondered what else she knew. Due to the secret nature of his work, her investigations on him were not welcome even though Toby was not privy to that part of his life. He glanced at his friend, who only gave him a slight shrug.

      ‘Yes, that’s true. Women are not permitted in the building.’

      ‘What a fine way to ensure no wickedness takes place within its walls. The residents must be all very honourable men, wouldn’t you say, Charlotte?’

      Lady Charlotte nodded, but her attention was on the contents of her teacup. She really had taken a poor measure of him.

      His life was all about nobility and honour—protecting the Crown by sacrificing a life for himself. Regardless of what she thought of him, he knew his life was consumed by noble actions. Hell, one of the reasons he was up here was because ensuring order was so important to him, he couldn’t stop.

      And why did it even matter to him what she thought?

      He had lost his appetite and had no desire to make polite conversation, but he knew he was now forced to sit there until everyone else was finished with breakfast. And by the amount of food on Toby’s plate, that could be quite a while. He would just make certain when they all left the room, he would avoid Lady Charlotte for the remainder of her time at Toby’s house.

      Once the roads were deemed passable she would be gone. While he had no doubt the Duchess of Skeffington was seeking out his presence in London, he also knew Lady Charlotte couldn’t get away from him fast enough. In a few days, he would barely recall the green of her eyes and those soft lips. She would be a faint memory of this trip, if that.

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