Gentleman of Her Dreams (2 page)

Henry picked up her hand and gave it a kiss before he dropped their entwined hands down on the settee and shifted closer to her.

They’d always held hands and sat closely to one another.

It wasn’t as if it was untoward; it was natural, natural except for the fact that for some unknown reason, his touch on her hand was causing her to fidget.

She wasn’t normally prone to fidgeting. Maybe she’d suffered some type of injury when she’d landed on the marble floor. Maybe she was in the throes of a fit and . . .

“What did you want to do today?”

She blinked out of her thoughts. This would never do. Henry seemed to be under the impression she was free to spend the day with him, but that certainly wouldn’t work, given the fact she’d gone out of her way to learn Mr. Beckett’s whereabouts for the day. She couldn’t very well abandon her plan now.

Before she could think of a suitable reply, Henry leaned closer to her, his nearness causing a wave of something alarming to shoot straight through her body. “My mother told me B. Altman is having a sale on shoes. I would be more than happy to escort you there and lend you my expert advice.”

She was immediately torn. She loved shoes, adored them in fact, and Henry was the only gentleman Charlotte knew who was perfectly content to accompany her shopping. His patience was endless, his tastes impeccable, and his company . . . amusing.

She’d missed shopping with Henry, but shopping wouldn’t put her into close proximity with Mr. Beckett, so she pushed the longing aside and took a deep breath. Her breath caught in her throat when Henry began rubbing his thumb along her knuckles, his action causing little jolts of what felt like flames to lick up her hand.

“I would prefer going on a picnic,” she said, her words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush even as she resisted the urge to tug her hand away from Henry, but really, the tingling was becoming a bit distracting.

What was wrong with her? This was Henry for heaven’s sakes and . . .

“If your heart is set on a picnic, I’m more than willing to oblige you, but I must point out that it does look like rain, and I, for one, think shopping would be a better option, at least for today,” Henry said.

It seemed as if she’d just inadvertently extended him an invitation to go on a picnic with her.

If her information was correct, and she was fairly certain it was, Mr. Hamilton Beckett was expected to be at Central Park today with his children, and he certainly wouldn’t understand what she was doing there with another gentleman.

He might not even take notice of her, and then her plan would be for naught.

How to disinvite Henry without hurting his feelings?

An intriguing thought flashed to mind. She lifted her gaze. “Would you, by chance, happen to be acquainted with the Beckett family?”

Henry frowned. “That’s an abrupt change of topic, but yes, I am acquainted with Mr. Hamilton Beckett and his brother, Mr. Zayne Beckett.”

This was perfect.

He could perform an introduction.

Now all she had to do was convince him to help her, but first, she needed to reformulate the entire plan.

He could introduce her to Mr. Beckett and then . . . he could suddenly remember urgent business he needed to take care of and leave her alone with her future husband.

Fingers snapping in front of her face caused her to blink back to reality.

“What are you thinking?” Henry asked slowly. “You have a very interesting expression on your face and one, I might add, I’ve seen all too often. You’re scheming about something, and I have to wonder what it has to do with the Beckett family.”

He knew her far too well.

She drew in a deep breath, slowly released it, and summoned up a smile. “Although shopping sounds delightful, I’m afraid I must decline because, you see . . . I have to go to Central Park today.”

Henry arched a brow. “You
have
to go?”

Charlotte nodded. “It’s all part of a plan.”

“Heaven help us.”

Charlotte grinned—she couldn’t help herself. “Now, don’t be like that. You love my plans.”

“Charlotte, the last plan I helped you with resulted in me landing in jail.”

“True, but honestly, Henry, you know poor Matilda’s reputation would have suffered dreadfully if we hadn’t managed to return her personal possessions to her. She most likely would have been forced to marry that cad, Mr. Blackwell, but because you managed to find her stolen undergarments in the man’s house, Matilda is now happily married to Mr. Smith, and she has you to thank for it. How could I have possibly known Mr. Blackwell would arrive home early from the theater and catch us in the act?” She patted his knee. “It was very noble of you to push me out that window and take the brunt of his displeasure.”

“You broke your ankle.”

“You ended up with a broken nose, so it’s all relative. Besides, at least I didn’t end up behind bars, and my mother is still thankful for that. She believes you’re a true hero come to life.”

“I was less than a hero seeing as how I took a beating, left you all alone to make your way to the doctor’s, and caused my parents no small amount of embarrassment over being forced to bail me out of jail.”

“My latest plan shouldn’t have such drastic results,” Charlotte said as she got to her feet and glanced at the clock. “We’re behind schedule. You did bring your horse, didn’t you?”

Henry rose from the settee and nodded. “I did, along with a buggy.”

“Your horse is attached to a buggy?”

“Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re not pleased about that?”

Charlotte ignored his question as she tilted her head to the side and thought for a minute. “Well, no matter. I’ll drive the buggy and you can ride my horse.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “I’m not riding Beast. He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He tried to bite off my arm.”

“He’s mellowed since you last saw him.”

Henry took a step forward. “Why can’t we both ride in my buggy? It has two perfectly good seats, so there’s really no reason to take an extra horse.”

“Stop being a baby. We need to take an extra horse so that my plan can succeed, which reminds me I need to send word to the livery stable to have Beast saddled instead of hooked up to my buggy.” She moved to the bell pull, gave it a tug, and a mere thirty seconds later, Tilda hurried into the room. She gave the maid instructions and then turned to find Henry watching her.

“You don’t need to look so worried, Henry. This is going to be a harmless jaunt.”

“None of your jaunts are ever harmless.”

“That’s not true, and besides, if we were to run into trouble, not that I think we will, you have little reason to believe you’d suffer another beating. You’ve become huge in the time you’ve been away. Mr. Blackwell would be no match for you today.”

“We’re going after Mr. Blackwell?” Henry sputtered.

“Of course not. He’s left the state, due to the fact he attempted to ruin another young miss, only this lady had four brothers who chased the blackguard out of New York.” She walked to the door and looked over her shoulder. “We need to go fetch Beast.”

Henry crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not until you tell me about this plan of yours.”

“I’ll tell you on the way to the livery stable. I don’t want to miss my opportunity at Central Park, and time is running away from me.”

Henry muttered something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch, but he did join her and take her arm before they strolled down the hallway, into the kitchen to fetch the picnic basket, and out the back door. She couldn’t help but smile as Cook and the other servants followed them out, all making a fuss over Henry as he asked them about their lives.

He’d always been considerate of others, especially servants.

“Why did you have Cook pack so much food?” he asked as he shifted the picnic basket’s handle over his arm and took her hand in his before frowning down at her. “And why are you smiling?”

“The food is part of the plan,” Charlotte said, “and I’m smiling because you’re such a nice man and you didn’t balk in the least at helping me, even though you have yet to learn the pesky details of what’s in store for you.” She squeezed his hand. “It almost feels like fate, you showing up today, because you’re the only friend I have who I can trust to help me in this matter, seeing as it calls for discretion.”

Henry stopped moving. “Explain.”

Charlotte tugged on his hand, which prodded Henry back into motion, but she took a moment to consider her words before she delivered them. She decided the best option was to simply get it out quickly. “I’m getting married.”

Henry, suddenly scowling, came to an abrupt halt, dropped the picnic basket to the ground, and let go of her hand. “What do you mean?”

“I thought it was self-explanatory,” Charlotte said.

“My mother didn’t mention any upcoming nuptials.”

“That’s because it’s still a bit sketchy.”

“How can a wedding be a bit sketchy?” Henry demanded.

“I’m not comfortable explaining.”

“Try.”

Charlotte bit her lip. “I’ve recently come to the conclusion that it is past time I selected a husband, and since I’ve had no luck obtaining one on my own, I put the matter in God’s hands. He, in all His wisdom, sent me Mr. Hamilton Beckett.”

Henry’s eyes turned stormy. “Is that why you asked if I was acquainted with the Beckett family?”

She nodded.

“Isn’t Hamilton Beckett a little old for you?”

“Of course not, he’s only . . . hmm . . . you know, I’m not certain how old Mr. Beckett is, but he can’t be more than thirty.”

“You don’t know how old your fiancé is?”

“That is the crux of my problem at the moment,” Charlotte said. “He’s not my fiancé quite yet.”

Henry’s brow disappeared beneath the shock of black hair laying across his forehead.

“In fact,” Charlotte said, stalling just a minute before she made her greatest confession, “I’ve never officially met the man.”

Her temper began to simmer when Henry released a bark of laughter, although it was a strange type of laugh—part amused . . . part relieved.

Before she could dwell on that for a sufficient amount of time, Henry picked up the basket, took her hand back in his, and began pulling her, not toward the livery, but back toward the house.

“We’re going the wrong way,” she said.

“No, we’re not,” he countered. “We’re going to take this basket back to the kitchen, and then you and I are going shopping. I’ll even pay.”

Charlotte’s feet stopped moving. She snatched her hand out of Henry’s, crossed her arms over her chest, and shook her head. “I’m going to Central Park.”

Henry blew out a breath. “You just admitted you don’t even know Mr. Beckett. Trust me, Charlotte, this is one plan you shouldn’t see through to fruition.”

She felt her jaw clench. Why was he being so obstinate? In the past, he’d always been more than willing to help her with whatever plan she was attempting. Why was he balking now?

It made absolutely no sense at all, and he didn’t even know what she was planning. How could he know she shouldn’t see it through to fruition? Granted, she hadn’t figured out all of the particulars since he’d entered the mix, but she would do that on the way to the park—if he could be convinced to participate. She bit back a smile as she realized exactly what she needed to do to garner his cooperation.

“If you don’t want to help me, Henry, that’s fine,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of traveling to the park on my own, and while it would have been convenient to have you introduce me to Mr. Beckett, I assure you, I’ll manage an introduction without your help.”

One.

Two.

Three.

Henry released a snort, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down the walk, this time toward the livery stable.

He never had been able to refuse her anything, which was why she completely adored him and why she wasn’t above appealing to his gallant nature to get her way.

“So, you’re going to help me?” she asked, panting slightly when he increased his pace yet again.

“Do I have a choice?”

Oh dear . . . he sounded sulky.

That was quite unlike Henry. He rarely sulked.

Perhaps he was tired from his travels.

Perhaps she should reconsider and allow him to take her shopping. It would be the considerate thing to do, but then she wouldn’t get to meet Mr. Beckett.

Henry dropped her hand and stowed the picnic basket in his buggy before he turned and, without a word, took her arm and steered her toward the stable. He paused when he reached Beast’s stall, and Charlotte felt a moment of trepidation when Beast looked at Henry, rolled his eyes, and then tossed his head even as his hoof began to paw the ground.

They should definitely abandon the picnic idea and go shopping.

Before she could get that out of her mouth, Henry grabbed Beast by the reins and pulled him out of the stall, still not speaking a single word.

What in the world was the matter with him?

She hurried to catch up and stopped when Henry turned to face her once he’d reached the buggy. “Tell me again, why do we need Beast and why aren’t you riding him?” he asked.

“I’m not wearing a riding habit.”

“Have you given all of your riding habits away?”

Apparently he’d gone from sulky to sarcastic. She let out a breath. “I still have numerous riding habits at my disposal, but as my intention today is to meet Mr. Beckett, I wanted to look my best, and my riding habits do not show me in a flattering light. That’s why I chose this gown, but it requires a bustle, and you know bustles make it extremely difficult to maintain balance—but that has nothing to do with why we need Beast. You’ll need a way to get home after I become acquainted with Mr. Beckett.”

“You’re planning on abandoning me?”

“Not right away,” Charlotte said quickly. “That would be odd, wouldn’t it, if you were to introduce me and then bolt from the scene. No, I think you’ll need to stay, at least for a few minutes, and then you can remember a pressing appointment and take your leave.”

Henry’s lips thinned into a straight line before he shook his head.