But there was no talk of marriage in the Holland coach. Charlotte and Will wrangled amiably over fashion trends and the latest excesses of the Prince of Wales; the diamond ring that once belonged to his mother rested undisturbed in Will’s pocket.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When the coach finally stopped, Charlotte swiftly glanced around before lowering her eyes and pretending a modest uninterest in the whereabouts of the Earl of Sheffield and Downes. Clearly his coach had not yet arrived. Will’s heart lifted. Perhaps Alex was giving him a chance, after all. He led Charlotte gently off toward the willow pond, leaving his man to prepare the picnic. For her part, Charlotte tried to keep her attention on what Will was saying, but her mind kept wandering. She desperately wanted Alex—the earl, she reminded herself—to appear, and yet she was furious with herself for the wish. Why should she look for him? He didn’t even remember her!

“Charlotte,” said Will patiently, as he repeated himself yet again, “what do you think of the prince’s gold heels?”

“Ah …” Charlotte looked up at him, hopelessly confused. “The prince’s gold heels?”

“Yes,” Will said. He looked at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said humbly. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.”

“I know,” said Will with a wry smile. “That’s because I’ve been making up nonsense, and you have been very charmingly nodding and agreeing with whatever I say.”

“Oh,” Charlotte said with a little gasp.

Will firmly drew her over to a nearby bench. They sat down for a moment and watched two sullen swans trolling for bread. Weeping willows hung down over the pond, their branches trailing into the water like strands of wet hair.

Charlotte longed to be back in her calm studio, finishing her portrait of Sophie. She had posed Sophie—somewhat ridiculously, she would admit—in a bluebell wood, and it had turned into an endless task, painting bluebells stretching into the distance. Yet even if she was occasionally bored in the studio, at least there she was never buffeted by desire, or flushed with sudden humiliation.

Now she was on a picnic without a chaperone, escorted by a handsome young man who seemed to be in love with her, and she could not keep her mind clear. Will’s tousled blond hair and blue eyes left her pulse unmoved. But all she had to do was remember that she would soon be seeing Alex and her body instantly responded, tingling from her toes to her fingers.

“Charlotte,” said Will, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her toward him. “I would like you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Oh,” Charlotte gasped again. She had been refusing marriage proposals for weeks, and suddenly she had forgotten all her lines.