Expecting Anna, he was already smiling, a quip ready. But the words died on his lips. Before him stood a tiny, exquisite creature who looked like a nymph. Her skin was perfect cream, her cheek smooth and round. Her mouth, naturally red, parted as she gasped in surprise. She took an uncertain step back and the sunlight gilded her golden hair to silver.

Rupert stared, his breath suspended, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. He met her gaze, and his chest contracted. She had cornflower blue eyes, as innocent as a fawn’s, with long, thick lashes that made his heart swell. The sunlight seemed to shimmer and expand, filling his heart, his soul.

Rupert took a step forward.

She turned as if to fly.

“Wait,” he said softly. “Don’t leave. Please.”

She paused, though her body was still tense. “Who are you?”

He managed a bow, smiling up at her as he did so. “Rupert Elliot. I’m here with Miss Thraxton and—”

“Oh!” The nymph’s face glowed. “I knew she would come today.”

Realization dawned. “You are Charlotte Melton,” he said in a strangely hollow voice.

She nodded shyly, her blond ringlets framing her face. “I should go and find Miss Thraxton.”

“No!” He glanced wildly around, desperate for some reason to keep her with him. “We should sit and wait for her together.”

Charlotte glanced at him uneasily. “I shouldn’t stay in the garden alone with—”

“But we are not alone,” he said promptly, moving to a nearby bench and dusting the seat. “Miss Thraxton is on her way here now.”

“That’s true.”

“Here, you can put your books between us, to make sure there is no impropriety.”

She hesitated yet again, and some bit of mirth made him say, “Anna would not hesitate.”

That did it. Charlotte’s chin lifted and she perched on the edge of the bench, setting the book between them.

“Is that one of Miss Thraxton’s books?”

“Yes. I was going to return it to her, though I hate to give it up.”

“What is it?” he asked, entranced by the enthusiasm that shone from her face.

“Childe Harold. It’s the most wonderful book I’ve ever read,” she said with so much sincerity that his heart caught again. She turned her wide gaze on him. “Have you read it?”

“Yes,” he lied without the slightest remorse. “It is one of my favorites.” And from this day forward, it would be. “In fact, I’ve told Lord Byron several times how much I enjoyed it.”

“You know Byron?” she said, obviously awed.

He did, though Rupert had never met a more boorish individual in all his days.

“I’ve heard that he is excessively romantic.” She gazed up at Rupert with an adorably shy smile. “Could you tell me about him?”

Anna came around the corner just in time to see Rupert take his place on the bench beside Charlotte. The two made a charming pair—the one small and fair, the other tall and dark. And there was a certain something about them, the way the air was charged with tension. The way Charlotte’s head dropped as if she were fighting the desire to rest her head on Rupert’s shoulder. And Rupert—Anna almost cursed aloud. He was thoroughly smitten. It showed in the way he stared at Charlotte as if he thought she might disappear at any second.