Minnie gave an enthusiastic yip, her attention focused firmly on the door, her tail wagging excitedly.
    "Who is it Minnie? Someone we know? Though no one we know is so rude.”
    Charlotte looked up to see Lord Woodcliff storm into the room followed by Mr. Taylor. As soon as Lord Woodcliff saw her, he stopped short at the threshold, his anger temporarily overcoming his shock.
    “Miss Stuart?”
    “Lord Woodcliff,” Charlotte snapped as Minnie bounded toward him, oblivious to his foul mood as she jumped excitedly at his legs.
    “Minnie, bad girl. Come here this instant.” The little dog slunk toward Charlotte, who snatched her from the floor and tucked her under her arm.
    “So it’s you who’s stolen my painting?” Lord Woodcliff accused.
    Charlotte threw back her shoulders, her chin defiantly in the air. “One cannot steal something which you do not own. I’ve purchased the painting, therefore it is mine.”
    Lord Woodcliff stepped forward, the line of his jaw tight, his hand clenched firmly on the head of his polished walking stick.
    “You cannot understand the value of this painting.”
    “Yes, you’ve stated before ladies posses little knowledge.”
    Lord Woodcliff started a little at this remark and she watched as his expression softened slightly.
    “I apologize if I’ve offended you. I did not mean to do so by my remark. The painting has a certain sentimental value and I’ll gladly pay you double for it.”
    Were he any other gentleman, Charlotte would have gladly relinquished the painting but something in Lord Woodcliff’s haughty nature made her fight him.
    “Then you may pay the Widows and Orphans Fund double for it at Mrs. Greenville’s charity auction. Mr. Taylor, please have the painting sent to my uncle’s house at once, his solicitor will arrange payment.”
    “I’ll see to it immediately.” Mr. Taylor hurried out of the room, eager to leave his clients to discuss their differences in private.
    Lord Woodcliff stormed toward her and she looked up at him through her lashes, delighted by the anger clouding his strong features.
    “You’re a very difficult young lady Miss Stuart.”
    “Only when faced with a difficult gentleman.” She examined his wide shoulders and broad chest, each well defined by a morning coat and shirt of higher quality material than a poor country Lord could afford. Charlotte dismissed the thought, for she knew many gentlemen of limited means did well by credit and many poor tailors and their families suffered dearly from the large amount of unpaid bills. She assumed Lord Woodcliff was no different from any other poor Lord who spent the last of his blunt on finely tailored coats in an effort to attract a rich wife.
    “I don’t have the means to bid for it at auction,” he replied hesitantly, confirming Charlotte’s suspicions. But she refused to give him any quarter, as there was something in this game of wills she sensed he enjoyed playing as much as she did.
    “Then you must hurry and find yourself a rich wife or the painting shall go to another.”
    Edward stepped closer to her, his face inches from hers and something deep within her thrilled at the sharp smell of lavender shaving soap combined with the gentle heat of his skin from a brisk morning walk.
    “If you were my wife, you wouldn’t address me so.”
    “Then let us both be thankful I’m not your wife,” Charlotte replied in a heavy, teasing tone far more wicked and familiar than decency dictated.
    His lips parted as though he meant to speak but he remained silent, his blue eyes never leaving hers. Her heart raced, her spine tingled with anticipation as he leaned closer. She tilted up her head, daring him, enticing him. Her eyes closed slightly and she felt his soft breath on her face when suddenly, a gentle cough caught her attention.
    Charlotte jumped back from Lord Woodcliff, her facing burning with embarrassment as she turned to see Lady Rosewood and Aunt Mary standing in the doorway. Judging from Aunt Mary’s wide-eyed shock and Lady Rosewood’s amused grin, Charlotte knew they’d seen and heard everything.
    Lady Rosewood swept into the room, her hand outstretched toward Lord Woodcliff. “Edward, what a pleasure to see you again.”
    “The pleasure is all mine.”
    “How is your father? It’s been ages since I’ve seen him. May we hope your presence in London will entice him to Town?”
    Lord Woodcliff shook his head visibly relaxed in the older woman’s presence.         “London is too crowded for his tastes. He prefers the pleasures of the country.”
    “As we all do. It’s only sport that drives us to Town,” Lady Rosewood laughed.     “If I can’t have your father, then I must have you at my salon so we can properly converse. I look forward to hearing about your travels. I’ll send the invitation this afternoon.”
    Lord Woodcliff bowed, smiling brightly at Lady Rosewood. “It would be my pleasure to attend.”
    Charlotte fought the urge to object to Lady Rosewood’s invitation. Something in this encounter with Lord Woodcliff disturbed her and she little relished the thought of encountering him yet again. She quickly dismissed her concern, for Lady Rosewood’s salon would be crowded with her usual mix of intellectuals and interesting people and Charlotte could easily avoid Lord Woodcliff. Before Lady Rosewood could say more, Charlotte stepped forward, taking her aunt by the elbow.
    “We must be going. I’m expected at the booksellers this afternoon.”
    “And Mrs. Knight is expected for tea.”
    “I’m afraid we must take our leave.” Lady Rosewood bowed to Lord Woodcliff who returned her bow. As he rose, he caught Charlotte’s eye and winked. She dipped hastily, stumbling slightly as she turned to leave.
    “Are you all right my dear?” Aunt Mary asked and Charlotte flashed her and Lord Woodcliff a large smile.
    “Perfectly, there is only a dip in the floor.” She turned and hurried out of the room. Aunt Mary and Lady Rosewood followed quickly behind, whispering among themselves.
    “I feel no dip.”
    “We’ll discuss the matter further in the carriage.”