Free Seducing Charlotte by Diana Quincy Page B

figure seated by the window.
    Camryn stood, his gleaming presence dominating the room. “Miss Livingston,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of calling upon you and Shellborne.”
    He was dressed for riding in a close-fitting, black, cropped riding coat. His athletic thighs were snugly encased in tan leather riding breeches that buttoned and tied at the sides of his knees. His brown riding boots had a slightly worn look to them, but his linen shirt, waistcoat, and cravat were all a crisp white. As usual, his tawny hair was in a state of controlled disarray.
    She hadn’t seen the marquess since the Fulsome-Thrusby ball almost a fortnight ago. Angry jealousy flared in her chest at the memory of him slipping off with the very eager Mrs. Fitzharding. What a strumpet. Not to mention Camryn, whose behavior had been no better. She didn’t have to imagine what they’d done after she left them. The vivid images of their previous encounter at Fairview were still emblazoned in her mind.
    With Willa gone and the season’s grand routs at an end, she hadn’t expected to see the marquess again so soon. But here he was, calling on her and despite all reason, her heart glowed with happiness. “Lord Camryn.”
    “Camryn has requested permission to call upon you,” Hugh said with barely contained excitement.
    Charlotte’s surprised gaze flew to Cam. Her mouth went dry. The marquess had just formally declared his intention to court her. She forced herself to remember the man stood for things she despised. It didn’t help. She still felt positively giddy.
    “I was hoping perhaps you would favor me with a ride along the Row,” he said. “I seem to recall you favor a vigorous ride.”
    “That sounds agreeable.” She struggled to sound calm. “With your leave, I will go and change.”
    He favored her with a devastating pearly smile that made her toes curl in her slippers.
    “Of course.”
    “Do enjoy yourselves,” said Hugh. “Charlotte, do not forget to take your maid.”
    About an hour later, they were riding along Rotten Row. It was not a fashionable time of day to be seen there. Except for the occasional rider, the trail appeared deserted since almost everyone of consequence had left town. It gave them a chance to gallop freely, which they both preferred.
    Charlotte laughed as she finally pulled her horse to a stop. “What an excellent time to ride,” she said, her cheeks warm from their exertions. “It is my first time back in the saddle since my fall.”
    His golden-green eyes crinkled. “I am grateful there are no high jumps to tempt you into losing your seat again.”
    “You are a cad to mention that.” She tossed her head. “As you will recall, I did not take a fall from the rigors of the jumps. My horse was startled, and since I was distracted by you, one could argue the fault lays with you.”
    He threw his head back and laughed, the sun skimming the admirable cut of his profile, a sculpted masculine nose and firm chin. His laugh was so like him, full and unbridled, rumbling deep in his chest. “Well then, allow me to apologize by treating you to a picnic,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “My cook has prepared a veritable feast for us.”
    Glancing at the satchel attached to his saddle, she said, “You were confident I would accompany you?”
    He slid effortlessly off his horse and came over to help her down. “I know the powerful hold the promise of a rigorous ride has on you, Miss Livingston. I was just clever enough to insert myself into that appealing picture.”
    His large, warm hands wrapped around her waist, helping her dismount, unsettling her insides. She glanced down the path from where they had just come. She could not see Violet.
    “I seem to have lost my abigail,” she said once her feet touched the ground.
    He gazed down the path. “Your maid will catch up with us in good time.” He moved to spread a blanket for their picnic. “We aren’t far off the