Unlike Charlotte’s father and Mr. Cooper, who both wore evening black, Mr. MacNeil had elected to wear a midnight blue jacket with trousers to match, and a beige waistcoat. In Charlotte’s opinion, he looked divine.
“Mr. Wright.” His name whispered past her lips in pure astonishment. The transformation he’d made was nothing short of remarkable. Not that she’d been averse to his more rugged looks, but this…this was something so much…more.
“Lady Elkins. Lord Elkins.” Mr. MacNeil’s voice carried in even tones with only a hint of the brogue she’d become so accustomed to. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. And you must be Mr. Cooper?” He gave Mr. Cooper a swift once over before allowing his warm gaze to settle on Charlotte. The edge of his mouth curved in an almost secretive sort of way that sent tiny tingles scattering over her skin. “Miss Russell.”
Striding toward her as if it were just the two of them in the room, as if she were the only woman to ever capture his interest, he closed the distance between them and presented the flowers he’d brought. With her heart beating wildly against her breast, Charlotte accepted the offering – a lovely and most untraditional collection of fragrant pink peonies, blue hydrangeas and bright yellow sunflowers.
“Too much?” Mr. MacNeil murmured so low only she would hear.
“Not at all,” she whispered back, her voice more shaky than she would have liked. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
His smile widened until she felt slightly giddy. And then he winked, leaving her in a state so wobbly she had no choice but to sink back onto her seat. She took a deep breath while Mr. MacNeil addressed Mr. Cooper. “I gather you’re in the steel business?”
“May I offer you a drink, sir?” Everet inquired, breaking into the midst of the conversation with almost invisible delicacy.
“A brandy would be nice,” Mr. MacNeil responded. He kept his attention on Mr. Cooper while Everet saw to his request. “With the high cost of blister steel production taken into account, I’ll assume you’re using puddling furnaces rather than cementation?”
Charlotte blinked. Who was this person and what on earth was he going on about? She glanced at her parents who appeared equally baffled.
Mr. Cooper however responded with undeniable pleasure. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about the industry.”
Accepting his drink from Everet with a distinct, “Thank you,” Mr. MacNeil took a quick sip and smiled. “I like to stay abreast of important matters.”
“I must say, I applaud you,” Mr. Cooper said. “Tell me, what do you do for a living?”
Lady Elkins coughed while Lord Elkins made some sort of non-distinct sound. Charlotte simply grinned. Oh, this was good. An outspoken American ignorant of the conversational subjects taboo amid the upper classes, and a tavern owner she’d paid to play her fiancé. The evening was certainly off to an excellent start.
“I’m in the alcohol business,” Mr. MacNeil explained. “Beer and wine mostly.”
“When we last met you told us you worked for the home office.” Papa narrowed his gaze like a jungle cat ready to move in for the kill.
“If you’ll recall,” Mr. MacNeil said, “I also mentioned being an entrepreneur. The Home Office venture is only an occasional stint, and with my most recent assignment now completed, I am once again free to be myself.”
“Really?” Papa did not look the least bit convinced. Or pleased.
“How exciting,” Mr. Cooper said. “I can’t wait to hear more about the two different lives you lead, Mr. Wright.”
Charlotte bit her lip. Perhaps she should go find a maid who could put her flowers in water before she ruined everything by erupting in a fit of laughter. Rising, she tested her legs, and finding them sturdy enough, she exited the room while Mr. MacNeil began delving into soil compositions and how this affected the flavor of grapes. By the time she returned, the incredible man had even managed to engage her mother by explaining to her why the port she preferred was sweeter than wine.
“If you please,” Everet intoned when a moment of silence arose in the conversation, “dinner is ready.”
“Shall we?” Charlotte’s father suggested. He’d already risen and was gesturing toward the door leading into the dining room.
Everyone else got up as well and Mr. MacNeil, the sneaky fellow, was swiftly by Charlotte’s side. He offered his arm with the gallantry one would expect from a duke. “Allow me to escort you, Miss Russell.”
Swallowing, she ignored her mother’s frown and the fact that it might be wrong to openly favor one gentleman over the other, but dash it all, she wanted the nearness, the contact and the feel of that sturdy forearm beneath her gloved hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, she complied, and was instantly overcome by a fluttery feeling deep in her belly.
Careful now.
This isn’t real.
It’s only pretend.
He didn’t want her any more than she wanted him. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of her goal. To do so would be disastrous, but for a teensy tiny fraction of a second, she would allow herself to be swept away on the feeling of being desired by the most refined man in the world.
Contorting his mouth around each perfectly enunciated word made Blayne’s jaw ache. It was exhausting, this business of pretending he was the same well-bred person his mother had raised him to be with the speech pattern drilled into him by Eton. He’d gotten so used to speaking without finesse, he struggled to get his well-polished phrases to slide off his tongue with ease.
And he missed his beard.
Frankly, he felt underdressed without it – naked, even. It was most peculiar.
But the glow of appreciation in Miss Russell’s eyes when he’d entered the parlor, and the absolute shock on her parents’ faces, was worth every effort. He held back a grin. If only they knew who he really was. Lord Elkins would probably march him straight outside and have him shot.
“A toast,” the viscount said once everyone had been seated and their glasses filled. “Mr. Cooper, we welcome you to England and hope your future happiness will be settled while you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Cooper said. He’d been placed next to Miss Russell with Blayne and Lady Elkins directly opposite. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.”
Lord Elkins inclined his head and drank, upon which everyone else followed suit. The first course was brought in – a pastry cup filled with tuna-fish mousse. A discussion about the sights and events London offered ensued with Lady Elkins insisting Mr. Cooper see Vauxhall Gardens while he appeared more inclined to visit Parliament.
“From what I gather, it’s different from our Senate and House of Representatives,” Mr. Cooper said, “and older too.”
“Indeed, we Brits do pride ourselves on our history,” Lord Elkins said. “As a member of the House of Lords, I would be delighted to give you a tour.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Cooper glanced at Blayne. “Perhaps you’d like to join us?”
It was hard not to like the man. Blayne held his gaze. He saw no hint of malice, jealousy, or haughty superiority in his eyes, but rather a sense of enthusiasm he seemed most eager to share. If it weren’t for Miss Russell’s aversion to the idea of marriage, Blayne reckoned he’d push her in Mr. Cooper’s direction himself. Rich, yet down to earth, the American was certainly a finer catch for her than that Carlisle fellow. In fact, Blayne rather liked him, which was quite surprising since he’d not have thought he’d like anyone Lord Elkins might recommend.