Mrs. Pratt did not even seem to hear his remark, or if she did, it did not strike any significance. Her eyes narrowed on him. “I’ve never seen you before and I know everyone in these parts.” She slid a suspicious glance to Charlotte. “And how is it you know my Charlotte here?”
“Mrs. Pratt, may I introduce you to Mr. Kingston? He is kin to His Grace.”
“Kin? How so?”
“Warrington is my stepbrother,” he replied.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, indeed?” She looked him up and down, no doubt assessing his person—which was still covered in manure. “Well, it is very fine to meet you, sir. How long will you be visiting up at Haverston Hall?”
Kingston and Charlotte spoke simultaneously.
“Oh, he won’t be here very long—”
“I’ve not yet decided.”
Charlotte’s cheeks pinkened.
Kingston went on to say, “I believe I shall stay a while and enjoy all the delights of your lovely village.”
“Ah.” She nodded, measuring him with her veteran gaze. “Brambledon does boast unique riches.”
“I can believe that.” He could not stop his gaze from traveling over Charlotte.
The pink in Charlotte’s cheeks deepened.
Mrs. Pratt tittered. “You are a charming young man.” He resisted rolling his eyes. The old dame had not been of that opinion before she learned of his relationship to Warrington. “Perhaps you will take a shine to our young Nora? Marriage and a few babes will curb her restless spirits.”
“Mrs. Pratt,” Charlotte admonished. “Nora is much too young for courtship . . . and there is nothing amiss with her spirits.”
“Rubbish.” She waved a hand. “She is no little girl anymore. I wed Mr. Pratt when I was only ten and five. The lass needs to occupy herself with something other than her experiments and herbs and books.” She looked Kingston over with renewed interest. “I am certain you are quite appealing when you don’t reek of dung.”
He chuckled.
Charlotte pressed her lips into a mutinous line. Naturally courting her younger sister would be awkward given he and Charlotte now had a history of shared intimacies.
Not that he would court Nora. He had no interest in her, however vivacious and interesting she might be. Unfortunately, the only Langley sister to capture his interest was the one who stood before him . . . the one he could not have.
“It was a pleasure, Mr. Kingston, but go on with you now.” Mrs. Pratt waved a hand, gesturing in the direction of Haverston Hall. “You need a proper bath. Make yourself presentable and consider my words. Nora Langley.” She nodded emphatically. “She might seem a bit unruly, but she will make a fine wife. Just needs a bit of domesticating.”
Domesticating? As though she were a feral beast that required breaking. He winced.
Charlotte snorted in patent disapproval.
An awkward silence fell. Charlotte glared hotly at Mrs. Pratt who was oblivious that she had given offense.
Kingston inclined his head in acknowledgment, ready to put an end to the exchange. “Good day to you, too, Mrs. Pratt.”
Charlotte muttered a muted farewell.
As Mrs. Pratt turned for her house, they fell in step side-by-side. He kept a careful distance from her as they strode from the Pratt farm lest he offend her with his odor. They walked for several moments before she blurted out, “You stay away from my sister.” Emotion shuddered in her voice.
He nodded and then recited, “Stay away from you. Stay away from your sister. You’re very free with your commands, Charlotte.”
“I mean it.”
“I have no interest in your sister. Have no fear. I won’t trouble her with my attentions.”
Yes. He would leave Nora Langley alone. He deliberately made no promises when it came to Charlotte.
Again, he knew himself. He knew what he was.
He was not a perfect man, but he had never been a liar.
He would not become one now.
Chapter 14
The following day, Charlotte paced Nora’s bedchamber, or rather her laboratory, with the restless energy of a caged cat.
It was almost as though her skin felt too tight and no longer fit her frame.
There had been no proper night’s sleep since he arrived. She had tossed and turned in her bed and even when awake, as now, she could not hold still. There was no peace to be found.
She should feel triumphant over yesterday’s encounter. She and Kingston had not touched. No inappropriate physical interaction had occurred whatsoever. That felt like a cause for celebration. It was a relief, to be certain. Even if the conversation had grown heated between them and their dialogue had become overly intimate, there was no more repeat impropriety between them.
She’d felt this restlessness ever since her conversation with Kingston . . . Samuel . . . at her house. Ever since she saw him smelly and covered in filth. All to help Mrs. Pratt, the old busybody. He possessed a generous nature. She had not expected that.
Charlotte tried to imagine her betrothed rolling up his shirtsleeves to help any of the villagers. It was a struggle to envision. Her husband-to-be was a kindhearted man, but not the type to get his hands dirty. He was much too genteel.
She had not succumbed.
Her sister’s bed was covered in books. Charlotte motioned to it. “How do you even find room to sleep?”
Nora glanced distractedly at the bed. “Oh, there’s room enough. I just stack the books to the side when I’m ready to go to sleep.”
Shaking her head, Charlotte acknowledged there was some irony with her being so concerned with her sister’s sleep habits whilst she had spent the majority of last night tossing and turning and wide-awake. She could not forget Samuel’s words. His voice played over and over in her head.
But you are not in a position where you have to marry anyone unless you want to. Unless you are in love.
She’d never considered the matter of a grand love affair. It was not something she wanted or expected for herself. She wasn’t like Marian with her duke. Passion was not in her makeup.
At least it had not been before Kingston. Now her body came alive in his presence, fairly burning—
No.
She gave herself a swift mental slap. It had naught to do with Kingston. She did not burn for him specifically. It was merely the tonic. It woke her to certain physical needs.
If she had taken the tonic and stumbled on her William in that corridor she would have assaulted him, too.
She idly examined all the various herbs and materials littering Nora’s worktables, sniffing at the pink contents of one glass cylinder.
“You should never do that,” Nora scolded.
Wrinkling her nose, Charlotte set the cylinder back down.
Her sister moved about the room briskly, snipping some herbs with a pair of scissors where they hung near her window. With a sprig in her hand, she moved back to her worktable and began to grind it with mortar and pestle, biting her lip in concentration.
Charlotte moved to the window and peered outside through the collection of herbs. Rolling green parkland stared back at her as she contemplated the mire her life had become. Clearly, Mr. Kingston appeared in no haste to depart, despite her hopes.
She released a breath and spun around to face her preoccupied sister. “Clearly, I should kiss him,” she blurted.