“Hush. No one can see us.” His hands pushed aside the curls at the nape of her neck and he started a slow light massage. Charlotte turned her face to the side and rested it against his shoulder. She could feel solid muscle under her cheek. It was oddly comforting, somehow. And his big hands were surprisingly tender … She closed her eyes.

There was a knock and Alex swiftly pulled Charlotte to a sitting position, smiling at her wan look. Campion brought in a tall glass on a silver tray.

“Here, swallow this.”

She eyed it suspiciously. It looked vile—yellow and frothy.

“I hate egg drinks.”

“Drink it anyway.”

She did. It wasn’t as bad as she suspected. Worse, she thought gloomily. The footman took the empty glass and bowed his way out of the room. Alex pulled Charlotte back onto his shoulder in a companionable sort of way. Charlotte closed her eyes again.

“There was liquor in that drink, wasn’t there?” she asked drowsily, after a bit. “I don’t like liquor….” Her voice trailed off and Alex could tell she had gone to sleep. He patted her satiny curls back into place. An involuntary grin twisted his lips. How many women go to sleep when an earl comes to propose marriage? He thought of all the voracious glances he intercepted every time he attended Almack’s. Patrick used to twit him, saying that all he’d have to do was dance with a girl twice and she’d be ordering wedding livery.

Well, this was a good story for Patrick. He looked down at his sleeping nonbetrothed. A not-nanny, not-betrothed, he thought wryly. Charlotte’s hair curled riotously, twirling around his hand. He pulled up a soft ringlet and let it spring back into a silky corkscrew. The way she was lying he could see only her profile. Long, curling black lashes lay on her white cheek—a bit rosier now, he noticed with satisfaction. Keating’s headache remedy had enough liquor, as she called it, to heat an ox. Even watching her sleep Alex felt his body stir appreciatively.

That was enough. She didn’t want to marry him, did she? Why not? Perhaps she had heard the story of his first marriage. That must be it, he thought, somewhat relieved. She must think that he had bought off her father somehow and was going to turn her into an unpaid nursemaid. Now he did remember his first proposal. She hadn’t said much, just no. Alex shook his head. They needed to have a straight talk when she woke up. He leaned his head against the back of the divan and closed his eyes. Within seconds, the only sound in the room was the gentle breathing of two sleeping gentlefolk.