Free What Not to Bare: A Loveswept Historical Romance by Megan Frampton

think?”
    Gotam frowned. “Can we go inside? This London air is far too chilly for me to think in.”
    The two men stepped inside, David’s brother’s butler clearly still uncertain about how to treat the Indian valet, especially as he and David were so obviously friends.
    “Gotam, in here, please,” David said, gesturing to the small study where his brother presumably took care of his correspondence.
    David poured a very large glass of brandy for Gotam and a smaller one for himself. He handed the glass to Gotam and gestured to one of the chairs. “Sit.”
    Gotam—for once—did as he was told and sat, crossing one leg over the other and holding the glass up to his nose for an appreciative sniff.
    “I will speak with the minister, but with Lord Radnor now deceased and his widow here in London, there is no danger of scandal at home anymore, is there?”
    Gotam paused and took a large sip. His face scrunched up as the liquor burned down his throat, then he uttered a satisfied noise and his expression cleared. “There is nothing like English brandy.”
    “Except that it is French,” David pointed out in a dry voice.
    Gotam waved him off. “Whatever. But there is still the matter of his niece.”
    David took his own sip. Gotam was right about the quality of the brandy, even if he was unclear as to its country of origin.
    “A few weeks to avoid Louise, avoid scandal, and pay enough attention to Lady Charlotte so that she is intriguing to Society. Dealing with a temperamental
mirza
will be a relief when we return to Bombay.”
    Gotam finished the last of his brandy. “And I will enjoy watching you handle it all, Mr. Gorgeous.”
    ***
    Charlotte’s maid, Sarah, came close to giving her notice when she saw what Charlotte planned to wear out that evening. The only thing that stopped her, she said loudly, was that no other lady would hire her if she knew where she had worked previously.
    “But I think this teal goes marvelously with this dark-fig color,” Charlotte exclaimed, a mischievous smile on her face. She did honestly find the blue-and-brown combination irresistible, but she knew full well nobody else shared her opinion.
    She was especially looking forward to seeing Lord David’s face when he first saw her. He would rue the day he told her to dress as she pleased.
    Even her mother—who should have known better—remonstrated with her when she made her appearance in the small salon prior to leaving. “Charlotte. You look hideous,” she said nearly as bluntly as her own daughter would have. “You must change. Immediately. Mustn’t she?” She threw a look of entreaty at Charlotte’s father, who was busy having a pre-card-party nap. He shook himself awake and blinked a few times.
    “What, dear?”
    Her mother rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Charlotte, will you change?”
    “Don’t change, dear,” her father interjected. “You are perfect the way you are.”
    “Not her personality, you—” Charlotte’s mother huffed out a deep breath as her eyes rolled yet again. Too much more of that and they might get stuck that way. At least then Charlotte wouldn’t be the most stared-at member of the Jepstow household. “Never mind,” she repeated. “We don’t wish to be late.”
    “I will see you at home later, dear,” Charlotte’s father said, blissfully unaware ofthe currents of clothing hatred swirling about in the salon. “Miss Collins’s sister-in-law has just arrived from abroad; we will have a new partner for whist.”
    “Excellent,” her mother replied in an absentminded tone of voice.
    “You must be sure to tell me all about it,” Charlotte said as she took her shawl from the butler. She nodded her thanks to the servant, then flung the garment about her shoulders, secretly relishing how her mother winced at the sight of the bright orange pattern of the shawl against the teal bodice of her gown.
    She drew on her gloves, which were white, as fashion required, but were embroidered in yellow