The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(48)

He wanted this business completed as rapidly as possible, and not just for his former mistress’s sake. Charlotte had warmed considerably after he had told her what he’d done. Her brother had said the family would leave in less than two weeks, and he was determined that Charlotte would be his wife by then. This idea she had of pushing their wedding off, or not having it at all, was intolerable. He wasn’t going to be jilted by the first lady to whom he was betrothed.

It was clear Charlotte had something of a romantic nature. Why else would she not care about more than his rank and wealth? He would spend as much time with her as possible, getting to know her, and charming her. Before long, she’d fancy herself in love with him and he would get her to church before she had time to change her mind.

As far as Con knew, none of the other gentlemen, aside from Harrington, had succeeded in courting her. If only that dammed cawker had not shown up, Con’s way would be much simpler. Damn the pup for thrusting a spoke in his wheel. He’d just have to find a way to cut the man out.

“Very good, my lord,” Sutton responded, apparently having given up the argument. “I shall have everything to you in the morning.”

“Excellent.” Con straightened the documents on his desk as his butler opened the door and Sutton took his leave. “Webster.”

“My lord?”

“Have my phaeton brought around in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Con leaned back against the soft leather squabs of his chair. Today would be the first time he and Charlotte had been alone since the morning he rescued her. Although to be fair, he’d merely given her a method of escaping. She had managed to foil the procuress’s plans without his assistance.

He admired her independence, except, he thought ruefully, when she was challenging him. Well, if he wanted her, and he did, he’d have to become used to her strong will.

A half hour later, he strode up the steps of Stanwood House.

The butler opened the door and bowed. “I shall inform Lady Charlotte that you have arrived. Would you like to step into the front parlor?”

And be out of sight and, possibly, out of mind? “No, thank you. I shall wait here.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Several minutes later, Charlotte stood at the top of the stairs, a vision in a turquoise carriage gown of grosgrain silk trimmed with yellow ribbon. Pearls dangled from her shell shaped ears. “I apologize for taking so long. I was having difficulty—” A gray streak raced down the stairs and sat at the door. Her eyes narrowed. “Collette, who let you out?”

“We’re sorry, Charlotte.” Lady Theodora leaned over the rail.

Charlotte came down the stairs, scooped up the cat, and handed it to the butler. “Please see that she is put back in my parlor.” Only then did she turn to him. “We may leave.”

Con glanced at the small feline who seemed to always be around. “Does she usually go everywhere you do?”

“I take her when I drive my carriage. She does not seem to understand that she may not accompany me today.”

Something was wrong . . . not quite right with what she’d said. He mulled over her statement. “I would imagine there are many times when she is not allowed to go with you.”

“Not really.” The words came out in more of a mutter. “What I mean is that early in the Season, Matt decided we, Louisa and I, would be better served to drive ourselves. This is only the second time I have ridden in a gentleman’s carriage. I believe you will remember the first time.”

Interesting. “And you always bring the cat . . . Collette? She doesn’t attempt to escape?”

“Yes, Collette. All the kittens have names beginning with C. And no, she is almost always with me. The breed travels quite well. Lord Merton has her brother, Cyrille, and he frequently rides with him.”

Con had heard of dogs in carriages, the most famous being “Poodle” Byng’s dog. But a cat? Then again . . . “I have no objection to Collette coming with us.”

Charlotte’s countenance brightened as she took her kitten from the butler. “Please send for her harness.” She looked at him with what he hoped was new interest. “Thank you, my lord. I assure you she will be perfectly behaved.”

He had his misgivings, but remembered how well the kitten had traveled in the basket. Until he’d stuck his hand inside—he still had some faint scars from that encounter—he had barely known she was present. “I have no doubt she will be showing off her best manners.”

The harness arrived, and they were shortly on their way, the cat sitting snugly between him and his betrothed.

He feathered the turn from Berkeley Square onto Mount Street.

“Do you have pets?” Charlotte asked.

She had been stroking the cat and occasionally one of her fingers would lightly touch his thigh. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he survived the ride around the Park with his sanity intact.

“Hunting dogs.” His voice sounded rusty as Con tried to rein in his rapidly rising lust. “I attempted bringing one into the house when I was around six years of age, but my mother wouldn’t have it.”

“Oh, dear.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her lips pitch downward and sought to reassure her. “You need not be concerned. If we marry, you will be mistress of all my properties . . . our properties.” She still seemed unconvinced. “My mother does not live at my principle estate, and if she wishes to visit Town, she can stay elsewhere if she does not like house animals. I intend to ask Worthington if I may have one of the puppies.”