“Not quite the commitment I’m looking for, but I guess I’ll take it. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

“And so you shall,” I say as Duke and I walk out into the hallway. He’s more than hesitant when we reach the top of the stairwell but eventually starts to descend after a little coaxing.

“Now remember,” Maggie calls out as Duke and I finish the first flight of stairs, “try not to stress too much, and when in doubt, think romance novel!” Her door slams shut a second later and her advice rings out in my ears.

Think romance novel. Think romance novel...

My inner mantra is soon interrupted when the shrill sound of dog barks echoes through the stairwell from somewhere below. Duke takes off in a fury down the stairs and I’m propelled forward by his sheer weight and momentum. It takes all the balance I possess to keep my footing as I slide down the steps on the heels of my feet.

“Duke! Stay!” I beg.

He drags me faster as we hit the main floor and go barreling through the foyer. I turn sideways, tensing myself for impact as I slam into the entrance door, thinking it’s an absolute miracle that it didn’t shatter. Duke goes up on his back paws, jumping against the glass and barking nonstop at the small but noisy Chihuahua standing on the other side.

I close my eyes and grab my shoulder as intense pain shoots up and down my arm.

Well, I can’t say that any of my romance novel heroines have rocked an arm splint in the midst of their scandalous seductions, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

10

Charlotte’s breath ripped from her chest as she ran out onto the deserted balcony facing the eastern edge of the estate. She looked skyward as she struggled to calm herself, concentrating on filling her lungs with the crisp night air. She assumed she was alone, but she should have known Robert would follow her out into the darkness.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he moved to her side.

Still gazing up into an endless pool of stars, Charlotte steadied her voice. It wouldn’t do for him to know that she was crying. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Robert moved closer still, trailing his fingers against hers. Charlotte sighed at the soft contact.

“George said you and your father had an argument.”

“We do that quite often.” Charlotte moved her fingers back against his. She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop. “I thought George had gone up to bed. I’ll go speak to him.”