Charlotte’s gaze caught Damien’s as Lord Jostling led her up the line of dancers at the Kettering Ball. She glared at him for a heartbeat before turning her attention back to her dance partner. She should never have involved herself with the unpredictable earl. Truly, her past experience with him should have been more than enough to warn her off.

Despite the passage of two full days, Charlotte could not cease thinking about Damien and the way he had acted in the park. The very nerve of him to interrupt her outing, attack Lord Jostling, and then tell such horrid stories about him. She could not help but wonder at what had possessed him to behave thusly.

In the days since, she had attended a garden party, a soirée, and a dinner party. Damien had made an appearance at all three, but had not dared approach her, but neither did he ignore her. Instead, Damien spent his time staring at her and Lord Jostling as if they were the most interesting and offensive things he’d ever seen.

Every time she hazarded a glance, she found Damien nearby with his attention honed in on them. It made her nerves crackle and caused her blood to heat. Worse, a deep down part of her thrilled at his attention despite her vexation with him.

Charlotte could not say that she loved Lord Jostling; however, he was the most attentive of her suitors and she enjoyed his company. The man had done nothing to give her pause—not even after Damien had attacked him. In fact, Lord Jostling had called on her, offering apologies. The very thing Damien should have done. And yet, she found herself still drawn to Damien.

Lord Jostling pulled her into his arms as a waltz began. “Ignore him.”

“It’s difficult when he won’t cease staring at us.” Charlotte cautioned a glance in Damien’s direction, and he scowled back at her.

“Look at me,” Lord Jostling said.

Charlotte brought her gaze back to his.

“He will soon grow tired of playing nursemaid. In the meantime, I have set up a little distraction.” Lord Jostling grinned. “There she is now.”

Charlotte drew her brows together. A lithe woman with golden tresses all piled on top of her head took hold of Damien’s arm. Charlotte had the sudden urge to march across the ballroom and insert herself between them as Damien bestowed a roguish grin on the woman. Before she could act so foolish, Lord Jostling guided her from the dance floor.

“Lady Constantine will keep him distracted while we sneak away for a bit.”

Charlotte could not help but glance back over her shoulder. The harlot had her paws all over Damien in the most inappropriate way. Were they familiar with one another? Perhaps the woman hoped to find herself beneath his bedclothes?

“I have a surprise for you,” Lord Jostling said.

Charlotte gave him a smile. “You needn’t go to any trouble on my behalf.”

“You are worth all the trouble in the world, Lady Charlotte. I intend to spoil you every chance I have.” He patted her gloved hand where it rested on his coat sleeve as he swept her into the hallway.

Excitement bubbled up within her and shoved all thoughts of Damien into the shadows of her mind. Damien was her past; Lord Jostling would be her future. She turned a dazzling smile on him. “You flatter me, my lord. I cannot wait to see what you have done.”

“You deserve flattery.” Lord Jostling chuckled. He led Charlotte into the orangery then down the winding path to the back.

The smell of citrus engulfed her and the warmth of the orangery wrapped around her, calming what remained of her irritation with Damien. She put all of her focus on Lord Jostling and enjoying her time with him.

Her breath caught when he brought her to a stop. There before her was a small table sequestered within a group of fruit trees. A candelabra and two champagne flutes sat upon the crisp red tablecloth. “How perfect.”

“It pales in comparison to you.” Lord Jostling lifted a flute and handed it to her.

Charlotte’s cheeks warmed as she accepted the glass.

Lord Jostling retrieved the second flute and held it out. “A toast to us.”

“To us.” Charlotte grinned before taking a drink of the sweet bubbly liquor.

“Dance with me.” Lord Jostling pulled her scandalously close with his free arm.

Charlotte stiffened at their close proximity. She wanted to enjoy this—to soak him up—but she could not relax. Forcing herself to follow his lead, she took another swallow of champagne as they swayed together.

Lord Jostling stopped moving but did not release her. “Finish your drink.”

She did as he bid, then allowed him to take her flute and place it on the table.

“Better?” He rubbed the back of his fingers across her cheek.

When had he removed his gloves? Charlotte nodded. “Yes.”

“I am going to kiss you now.” Lord Jostling brought his lips to hers.

His lips brushed hers and Charlotte closed her eyes, waiting for the headiness she knew a kiss brought. Lord Jostling's lips moved over hers, suckling, tantalizing, daring her to deepen the kiss. Still, Charlotte felt nothing—certainly not the desire to kiss him more fully.

This, too, was Damien’s fault. He had her so upset that she could not allow herself to focus on Lord Jostling. The dratted rogue! Even now, she could smell his unique scent of sandalwood and bergamot tangled with raw masculinity.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she opened her eyes. She pulled her lips from Lord Jostling’s and inhaled sharply. Damien strode toward them, a fierce scowl twisting his features.

Charlotte stepped out of Lord Jostling’s embrace and marched toward Damien. She’d not allow him to harm Lord Jostling again. “This is a private moment. No one invited you.”

“You are an unwed lady.” Having reached her, Damien took her elbow. “You do not get to have private moments.”

She jerked her arm, but he did not release her. “You have no say in the matter.”

“We shall see about that.” Damien gave another tug, setting her in motion.

“I will call on you tomorrow,” Lord Jostling yelled after her.

Charlotte felt like she should stomp on Damien’s foot. Demand to be released. Pull her arm free. Anything other than accepting his brutish behavior. Instead, she simply allowed him to take her from the orangery. Knowing Damien as she did, nothing she could do would sway him from his course anyways.

She’d expected Damien to take her straight back to the ballroom. When he instead led her through a side door and out into the garden, her anger bloomed afresh. The nerve of him denying her stolen moment with Lord Jostling and then forcing her into one with him. She jerked free, spinning around on him. “You can rest at ease. I am returning to my parents.”

“He is the worst sort of man. Nothing good can come of your courtship.”

Charlotte turned away, her heart hammering. “No, you are.”

“Charlotte, listen to me.” Damien approached her, his gaze never leaving hers.

“No, you listen to me. Lord Jostling has been the perfect gentleman. I like him and there is nothing you can do to stop me from seeing him.” Charlotte held her ground as Damien drew closer. “We have a comfortable companionship and I believe he would make a fine husband.”

“Is that truly what you want? A comfortable companionship?” Damien swept his gaze down the length of her body.

Charlotte ignored the heat rising in her body and glared at him. “What more could I ask for? Love?” Cynicism laced her voice. “I believe I have already tried that.”

“You could at least strive for passion.” Damien captured her lips with his in a crushing kiss.

Charlotte’s belly fluttered and her knees went weak as she opened for him. Her tongue slid against his, the heat of her anger giving way to a fierce longing. She wanted him—all of him—and yet she could not have him. She pulled away and pivoted for the house.

“Tell me, do his kisses disarm you? Do they make you thighs quiver? Your breath come in pants?”

Charlotte did not look back. She could not, for if she did, Damien would see the answers without her speaking a word.