What Not to Bare: A Loveswept Historical Romance by Megan Frampton Page B

do not applaud your inspiration to wear it. That is what I am saying.”
    They were quiet as they continued to gaze at each other, and suddenly David was conscious of the ebb and flow of the theatergoers, sliding past them as if they were two rocks in a stream, embedded in the mud, not moving.
    She broke the spell first, glancing down to the ground and mumbling something.
    “Pardon?” he said, bending forward to catch what she was saying.
    “Would you escort me to my seat, please, Lord David?” She sounded fragile, and achingly polite. As if she’d never called him beautiful or asked him a blunt question.
    He felt his jaw tighten as he held his arm out to her. She took it, giving a slight nod, and he led her to her seat. He didn’t miss the look of shock on her mother’s face as they arrived. And felt a burst of anger that even her own mother would doubt her attractions.
    He took an extra pause as he bowed over her hand. “Thank you for the pleasure, Lady Charlotte. I do hope you enjoy the play,” he said.
    She dropped a quick curtsy and met his gaze. She no longer looked as though shewere upset; perhaps more rueful now. Unless he was just reading into things. He was normally excellent at gauging people’s motivations and emotions, but he was entirely unsure about this woman.
    Except that he knew he would have to find a way to spend time with her. To fulfill his task, that was all, he told himself.
    ***
    “I never dreamed it was even a possibility,” her mother said as Lord David made his way back to his own seat. Even his back was stunning—his hair curled darkly over his collar, just long enough to seem raffish, just short enough to continue to be ruly. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim, and his legs long.
    Neither did I, Charlotte thought. Although she knew he found her interesting, for whatever reason. Even though she now knew he did not want to see her as a normal woman. His comments on her clothing choices made that clear.
    So was she to be an amusement to him? He did smile at her, but she got the feeling he was in on the joke, rather than laughing at her. If only she were in on the joke, as well.
    “Lord David and I have many things in common,” Charlotte said stiffly, hoping her mother wouldn’t ask what those things were. The only things that came to mind were breathing, being English, and … well, she hadn’t gotten his opinion on food yet, but she presumed he liked to eat certain things. As she did.
    “What could you possibly have in common with Lord David?”
    So much for hoping.
    “Well,” Charlotte began, knowing her mother wouldn’t understand about breathing and being English, “Lord David is a font of information about all sorts of things. And I like to ask questions.”
    Which wasn’t far from the truth. She had asked him questions, even though his answers had not always been helpful.
    “Hm,” her mother said, her tone doubtful. Thankfully, the bustle on the stage indicated that the production was about to begin, so Charlotte was spared having toelaborate.
    Charlotte didn’t pay much attention to the play, except to note that there was entirely too much shouting. She kept looking over at where he sat, wondering if he was bored by what he was seeing, or intrigued because the exoticism of India was now commonplace, and London was now exotic.
    If she could speak to him without his constant inquiries as to her choice of raiment, she might have a chance of getting an answer. Perhaps he would like it best if she were naked—then he wouldn’t have any questions to ask her at all.
    And didn’t
that
thought raise some interesting possibilities. Because if she were naked, it would stand to reason he would be, as well.
    She didn’t think any of the statues she’d seen in museums would be close to having the kind of beauty his naked form would. For one thing, it would be
his
naked form—not marble or some other cold stone, but warm, human flesh.
    Plus, she didn’t think he would