Pray for the lord almighty could Charlotte jump off a cliff in that very moment. Here she was, approached by none other than bumbling Howard Wilmington - the epitome of everything that made her want to gag. Not only was he shorter than she, he was old, smelled like soggy leather and balding quite noticeably. Though it seemed like he tried to distract that factor about his appearance by shoving a wig on his head which everyone knew was a fraud.

"Lady Charlotte, what a pleasure to see you again," he purred as he took her hand against her will and puckered his lips upon her hand to kiss it.

Charlotte made a mental note to rinse her fingers that evening and scrub it until her flesh was raw.

"And you, Lord Wilmington," she grumbled unpleasantly under her breath.

"Say, did you receive the gifts I've sent for you?" His beady little eyes peered up at hers as if to leech onto some kind of hope that she'd be pleased by his stupid presents.

"Yes, I have, thank you." And I tossed it onto the lawn for the earth to eat, she thought.

"I heard from your brother's announcement that this may be your last season, dear" he murmured as his hand was still firmly holding hers. For a man of his size, he had more strength than she had expected, "you know, I think you'd make a lovely addition to the Wilmington household."

Charlotte resisted every chance she had to gag at the thought becoming Lady Wilmington, the wife of a lousy oaf who looked like a grape. "In your dreams," she seethed as she forced as pleasant of a smile onto her features which only made her look constipated.

"Are you alright Lady Charlotte? You look unwell, perhaps we should go somewhere ... with less people," he suggested almost wickedly

She did everything she could not to hurl on him at this point, the bile rising up in her throat at his suggestion. She'd be damned to be compromised by the unsightly Howard Wilmington.

"Pardon my lord, I'm afraid I can help Charlotte from here," the familiar sound of a girl's voice painfully gave way to freedom. Charlotte was more than happy to see Ellen Sotheby, one of the only few friends she had made. The girl was almost as ill sodden in reputation but she didn't care one bit. She did what she pleased since her family had strong connections with royalty.

"Oh god thank you. I swear another minute with Wiltingpoop and I would've died." Charlotte exasperated.

"I could tell from yards away," Ellen giggled. "Is it true though, you're going to settle down?"

Charlotte frowned before reluctantly nodding. Ellen sighed as she held her friend's hands in her own. "It's too soon for the lot of us to be committing. I for one haven't finished my own expeditions," her eyes darting in the direction of one of the men in the room.

"Oh no, don't tell me ..." Charlotte gasped.

"I'm telling you, he's wonderful but he has a rather small gift, if you know what I mean." Ellen stated with a laugh.

"I can't believe you'd be so shameless!"

"Dear, for your frigid demeanor and my indiscretion, we were a pair made from hell."

"Excuse me." Another interruption, Charlotte swore that if it was bloody Wilmblybum, she'd have no qualms in grabbing a glass flute and chucking it in his face now. But to her surprise it wasn't him. It was man she hadn't ever seen or at least she didn't think she did. He was wonderful to look at - delectably refined from the perfection of his face to the body connected.

"Ehem, Charlotte, don't know if you remember but this is Lord Lennox," William introduced.

"Pleasure..." she murmured as Jonathan took her hand and gently pressed his lips against, her skin warming up at his touch.

"If I may have the honor of a dance with you?"

"Yes, of course." Charlotte nodded. In the corner of her eye she had spotted Wimbletwit making his way back toward her only to glare at the man who was taking her in his arms. She was smug, content even to be swept away by someone as handsome as this man.

Jonathan held her quite gently, afraid of pressing against her too closely. He had discussed his intentions with William earlier who seemed rather indifferent toward his endeavors. In fact, William had even stated, "good riddance" under his breath as he patted him on the back. Though the siblings seemed to have a complicated dynamic, William seemed to trust Jonathan enough to allow him to pursue his little sister.

He caught whiff of the lavender and honey scent that covered her body. He did his best not to stare but it was wholly difficult as her body was right there in front of him. For being quite tall of stature, Charlotte seemed to be one of the very few ladies who almost matched up to his height. The top of her head could rest perfectly against his nose.

"How is it that you know my brother, Lord Lennox?"

"We were in Eton together, same year. And please, do call me Jonathan."

Her eyebrows quirked in the most quizzical of manners, "oh? But formalities are decorum for a place like here."

"Please don't worry about such stifling rules. No one else will hear it but you and me."

"You're forward." She stated, "I can't tell if that's a good trait for a gentleman."

"Shouldn't honestly always be?" He rebutted.

"Yes, it should."

"Well then perhaps this is very blatant but I must confess Lady Charlotte," his lips were right near her ear as he whispered such words. He could see the flush decorating upon her cheeks. "I intend on marrying you."

And a declaration whispered to any other female would have taken it romantically. But this was Charlotte Cecil and she certainly did not approve. At once, she stopped and attempted to walk off in a storm but Jonathan had clutched onto her hand.

"You want to marry me and you don't even know me?" Charlotte whirled around in fury as her eyes darkened.

"Well, yes" Jonathan said.

"No. NO. You will not, I refuse. You must think of me as possibly one of those fools who'd succumb to your sweet temptations," she swore.

"Your complexion said so," Jonathan said as he walked toward her, closing in their distance. Thankfully the pair were out of sight from the ballroom, scandalously alone in what looked like one of the foyers in the grand house.

She blushed again. "Get away from me," the grassy greens of her eyes narrowed as she backed off.

"No Charlotte, I will not." His tone was stern and she had cornered to the wall like a wolf to his rabbit.

Charlotte was shaken in fear. She wanted to scream for help but no sound was escaping from her lips and the intensity of Jonathan Lennox's thunderous eyes only seemed to hypnotize her. She had never been so close to a man before. Well, she had when she was a child and had a staring contest with her brother. She had successfully won and forehead smacked him backwards as he fell on his bottom. But this situation was different. She could smell the musk of his cologne, woody and earthy - a masculine scent that was so damn appealing. Her body was reacting in every way that she refused to allow in her mind. Her pink lips parted as she felt his mouth move closer and closer.

And he whispered again, "I will marry you and you will be my wife, Charlotte Cecil."

Then he parted from her, her face furiously red. He had been teasing her into thinking that he'd kiss her, but he didn't. She was embarrassed to say the very least and she had it in her to punch him as he turned on his back. But no matter how hard she swung, it left no eminent pain on the man. When her hand had came in contact with his body, she sensed the muscles that were hidden beneath his clothes and she hated herself for conjuring up possibilities in her head.

"I won't marry you, you bastard. Not when Jesus Christ rises back up from the grave! YOU HEAR ME JONATHAN LENNOX?"

But despite her futile attempt to get his attention, he had already exited the room on his heels leaving her breathless.

Hope you guys are enjoying this so far, the story's going to get wild and I'm so excited to upload new chapters! Feel free to let me know your thoughts!