Free Seducing Charlotte by Diana Quincy

She emphasized each word as if he were deaf, daft, or both. “I. Will. Not. Accept. Your. Apology.”
    “I beg your pardon?” he said, startled to be confronted so directly. Most maidens hung on to his every word, laughed at witticisms even he knew weren’t particularly amusing.
    “You, my lord, are a rag-mannered coxcomb and I will not accept an apology without a full explanation for your behavior.”
    “A rag-mannered coxcomb?” He could hardly believe his ears. “Now see here, Miss Livingston—”
    She sighed, her exasperation plain. “No, you see here, my lord. I tire of your strange temperament, your arrogant manner, and most of all, I tire of dancing with you. Please excuse me.”
    She was halfway off the dance floor before Cam recovered himself and strode after her. He caught her gloved hand and placed it on his arm. “Tsk-tsk, Miss Livingston, tantrums do not become you. You risk causing quite the commotion.”
    Small round spots of color stamped her angled cheeks. “Please unhand me,” she said through clenched teeth.
    “Unfortunately, I cannot oblige you.” Cam held on to her hand, pasting a polite smile on his face. “Willa will have my head if we cause another scene. And, at the moment, I am more wary of her wrath than yours. She’ll put it all on me. Even though this outburst is your doing.” He kept his free hand clamped over hers to prevent any escape. “However, since you demand an explanation, I will oblige you. But not here.”
    “Don’t tell me you have the perfect secluded corner of the terrace to take me to.”
    Cam barked an amused laugh. “Touché, Miss Livingston. Alas, no. Everyone rants about the Fulsome-Thrusby portrait gallery. It is both private and public enough for the discussion you insist on pursuing.”
    He escorted her toward the gallery, a long wood-paneled hallway adorned with paintings of the Fulsome-Thrusby ancestors, who appeared to be a rather humorless lot.
    Charlotte halted, pulling her hand away. “Well?”
    He fought to keep his eyes politely level with hers and well away from that intriguing curve of bosom she displayed this evening. “Well, Miss Livingston, it likely comes as no surprise that I have developed something of a tendre for you.”
    If the way her mouth fell open was any indication, it did surprise her. In fact, Charlotte looked downright shocked. Surely she could not be that unaware? The lady blushed, a delightful shade of pink, all the way from her face, through the turn of her neck, and down to that unexpectedly lovely bosom.
    Warmth glowed in her crystalline eyes, causing his own heart to tighten with an unfamiliar emotion. “If this is how you show affection, my lord—”
    “Pray allow me to finish, Miss Livingston,” he said trying to get a hold of himself. “I have had the occasion to come upon you twice in what could be construed as an inappropriate situation with a male.”
    She stiffened. Any warmth she’d exhibited just a moment ago turned to frost. “I beg your pardon, Camryn, but the only gentleman who has made inappropriate advances toward me of late is you.”
    Her recall of their terrace kiss brought back the memory of the sensuous sweetness of her startled lips. “Oh, he is not gentleman. The very idea that you would dally with a groom in the stable —”
    “Dally with the groom?” she sputtered. “Are you referring to Nathan?”
    “Yes.”
    “Lord Camryn—” She drew herself up. “While it is none of your affair, I must tell you that you are gravely mistaken about Mister Fuller. He and I are longtime acquaintances and nothing more.”
    Mister Fuller. It almost sounded respectable. “Mister Fuller is the stable boy known as Nathan, I presume?”
    “One and the same. And I assure you that he is a longtime family friend and nothing more.”
    “I see.”
    “Although, I must say, I find your code of conduct to be most fascinating,” she said in a tart tone. “It is not my perceived dalliance with a gentleman