Charlotte leaned her head back against the chair, loving how the hot sun seemed to permeate her skin all the way down to her bones.
At first, her uncle hadn’t believed her when she’d told him she wanted, truly wanted, to go to India. He’d called a family meeting, even summoning her brother, Christian, from whichever library he’d been in, and dragging her father away from his card games to come share his opinion.
It did not sit well with him at all that the other males in her family were all for Charlotte having an adventure. Then he’d been livid at David for having the audacity to actually fall in love with Charlotte, but eventually he’d listened to both of them—well, primarily David, as he was far better at persuasion than she was—and had agreed to let David return to work, to India, where he could be useful. David wasn’t doing precisely the same thing as before, but it was equally as engaging and didn’t leave him too exhausted at the end of the night to work for her. She smirked as she thought about it.
Sarah had come also, which made Gotam happy. Sarah had met his family already, and it was only a matter of time before they were married, as well. They just had to persuade his grandmother, who was naturally suspicious of the foreigner.
“A letter for you.” David dropped it on the small table next to her, then sat down in the chair opposite. The patio—really an extension of the main house—was where she spent most of her time when David was working. Her previously pale skin had turned darker in the sun, and David seemed to like how she looked, especially when he got to count all of her freckles.
Counting freckles was their new euphemism. On the boat, they had said they needed to rig the mainsail; when they first arrived in India, they frequently found themselves having to retire to adjust Charlotte’s sari.
She got tired of saying the words “making love,” since she seemed to be saying it a tremendous amount.
Charlotte picked the letter up, and smiled when she recognized Anne’s handwriting. She slit it open with the end of her teaspoon and shook out the pages.
Her smile broadened as she read. “Listen to this: Anne’s brother, Charles, somehow accidentally compromised Lady Radnor, so now they’ve had to get married.”
“They deserve each other,” David commented dryly.
“And Anne writes that she and Mr. Smeldley have discovered they really do share an interest in art, only Anne then adds that I shouldn’t read anything into it, since she and the gentleman are just exploring the subject together.”
“In other words, she has questions?” David shook his head. “We know where that ends up.”
“Hush, you. She also writes that Mr. Goddard found someone to marry him, so she won’t have to endure his attentions any longer. Goodness, I didn’t know he had fastened on her!”
“Good thing you didn’t know, or you would have insisted we return to England to stop it.”
“You’re right. That’s probably why she didn’t tell me about it.” And Emma had asked Anne to continue helping write the column, which sounded like great fun. But she didn’t want David to start thinking about what kind of trouble that could lead to.
Anne had said yes, but only if Charlotte helped when she returned to London for her brother’s wedding. But she wouldn’t tell David anything about that. If she ran into trouble, she’d just ask Christian. Because if she could write a column on fashion, so could he.
“Does she say if she is coming to visit?”
“She writes that she—let’s see, she says she is asking her mother about it every day, but that since Charles did not get his heiress, her mother is putting more pressure on her to marry someone wealthy.” Charlotte put the letter down in her lap. “Poor Anne. Her mother won’t stop until she gets her daughter married.”
David got up from his chair and walked the short distance to her. He leaned down and cradled her face in his hands. “Marriage isn’t such an awful thing, if you marry the right person.”
“And ask the right questions,” Charlotte added.
“Speaking of which, I do believe you have another freckle. Possibly two. Shall we go count them?” he asked with a wicked grin on his face.
Charlotte felt the stirrings of desire course through her. “That is one question that will never be satisfied.” She got up out of her chair and wrapped her arms around him.
His hands rested at her waist, and his fingers crept up to just under where her sari wrapped around her bosom. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Have I answered?”
He laughed, and swung her up into his arms, carrying her into the house, into the bedroom, and into his love.