Three
Charles found the Westix chit prettier than he’d expected. Her hair was the same brilliant red as her father’s, her eyes pale. Though whether they were green or blue or some color in between was imperceptible in the muted light. She was fair, her skin a lovely porcelain-white, and her back was so straight that looking at such rigidity made his shoulders ache.
It was evident she was attempting to appear brave, but he knew that all Murrays at their core were cowards. No matter how this woman tried to play it, she was exactly the same as her father.
“Let us start with introductions.”
Lottie released Charles’s arm and beckoned him. He stepped closer, the obedient dog in this ridiculous dance.
The delicate muscles of Lady Eleanor’s neck stood out and a heavy awkwardness settled over the room.
“If he frightens you, I can send him away.” Lottie spoke in the same careful tone she’d used with the parishioners a lifetime ago.
Dear God, he wished Lady Eleanor would confess her fear and he could leave. He ground his teeth. Except there were the journals, of course—the reason he’d agreed to this damned fool of a scheme. He needed her to like him.
Lady Eleanor stood abruptly, reaching the impressive height of Charles’s chin. She tilted her face upward and peered boldly up at him. Green. Her eyes were green. And wide and attentive with a feline intensity.
“I am not so easily discouraged.”
Conviction laced her words, but the gentle flaring of her nostrils told a different tale. She was indeed scared. In truth, how could she not be put off by such a bizarre scenario as the one they all found themselves thrown into? At least the girl had sense.
She stood close enough that the tip of one satin slipper touched the shiny toe of his boot, and her soft breath whispered over his chin with every exhalation. The sweet scent of jasmine floated around him. It was delicate and feminine, and seemed almost too gentle for the woman in front of him.
In truth, they were improperly close—as if the scene was not already indecent enough, with a lady of her breeding meeting a woman of Lottie’s—
He couldn’t finish the thought.
Yes, Lottie was a courtesan, but he could not consider her as such. Not when to him she’d always been just sweet and gentle Lottie. A woman now forced to bow and scrape to this spoiled brat.
“You needn’t be alarmed.” Lottie carefully drew Lady Eleanor back to a more respectful distance. “We do not intend you harm or ruination. We want to help—which is why I agreed to work with you. And...” Lottie indicated Charles. “It is why Lord Charles is here as well.”
If Lady Eleanor hadn’t been watching him so intently he would have given Lottie a curious look. She doubtless had her reasons for lying about his real title, and if her intention had been to set Lady Eleanor at ease, her effort proved successful. Lady Eleanor’s shoulders lowered a notch and she nodded to Lottie.
“I should like to present Lady Eleanor,” Lottie said grandly.
“I’m pleased to meet you.”
Lady Eleanor’s cool tone diffused the warmth of the greeting. Indeed, she appeared anything but pleased.
“I’d like to believe you mean that,” Charles said, before he could stop himself.
Lottie shot him a hard look. Lady Eleanor met his gaze, brazen and without charm. “Perhaps that’s why my mother has risked our reputations for my tutelage.”
“He doesn’t know the details of why you’re here,” Lottie said. “I should have explained it, but I—”
Lady Eleanor put up a hand to stop her.
“You must not have been long in London if you haven’t yet read of the infamous Ice Queen.” Lady Eleanor’s brow quirked on an otherwise expressionless face. “A woman on the edge of spinsterhood, who lost her one chance at a proposal of marriage by the very coolness of her demeanor.” Her eyes glinted like hard emeralds. “My mother has sent me here as she believes having Lottie teach me to flirt and project myself as being more genuine will dispel the rumors of my unaffected disposition.”
“And what do you think?” Charles asked, his curiosity slightly piqued.
“I’m skeptical.” Her reply came without hesitation.
Behind her, Lottie pursed her lips.
“Skeptical that you can be taught?” he prompted.
Lady Eleanor gave a tight smirk. “That it will have much impact. I must overcome preconceived notions sufficiently to entice a man to seek my hand in marriage. All in...” Her head tilted in apparent mental calculation. “All in the better part of two months.”
Time was most certainly not in her favor. The woman was practical in her assessment.
“Does it matter who is on the other side of that proposal?” Charles studied her as he spoke, to see if she even bothered to flush at his statement. She did not.
“Women do not have the luxury of time and choice, as men do.”
It was a simple reply, but it was the truth. Charles knew he had his own ducal obligations to tend to, but he did have time. Even if it took several years he could find the ruby, return to London and still acquire a wife within weeks of his arrival. Days, if necessary.
“Then we ought to get to work, oughtn’t we?” Lottie stepped closer between them. “First, I’d like to observe how you comport yourself when introduced. Properly.”
She regarded the Westix brat.
“Lady Eleanor, think of making eye contact and trying to look sincerely happy to meet Lord Charles.”
Lady Eleanor shifted her weight from one foot to the other in reply. Clearly she was anything but happy to meet him. The feeling was mutual.
Lottie ignored the subtle display of sullen defiance. “Lady Eleanor, may I introduce Lord Charles?”
Lady Eleanor’s gaze met his and raked into his soul. There was something in the way she gazed into his eyes, unapologetic and resolute. Not at all like the demure ladies of the ton he’d grown used to when he’d last lived in London. No wonder she put people off.
Lady Eleanor extended her hand, which Charles accepted and bowed over, kissing the air just above the knuckles of her white kidskin gloves.
When he straightened, she offered a stiff nod and said, “I’m pleased to meet you.”
Her speech and manners were immaculate. Everything was as expected in polite society, except perhaps her bold stare.
Lottie nodded to herself. “Good. Proper.” She put her finger to her lower lip. “But without feeling.”
“I assumed feelings were not necessary with strangers,” Lady Eleanor countered.
“They are when you want to encourage
