The Seduction of Lady Charity: The Baxendale Sisters Book Four by Maggi Andersen

needs exercise.”
    “It might distract him, Your Grace,” Franklin said. “At least long enough for the housemaids to make your bed.”
    Robin grinned. “I daresay a dog in the bed would not appeal to my bride, eh, Franklin?”
    “No indeed.” The butler’s mouth showed the faintest of smiles before he left the room.
    Picking up his coffee cup, he wondered whether Charity would find the dog with his ragged ear amusing. He would ask her this afternoon. There’d been another article in the London Magazine that praised Charity’s original style. She worked quickly with a light touch, when other artists labored for months and sometimes years over a portrait. Her style marked a new chapter in art, a bold departure from tradition. It was time for him to ask her to paint his portrait. Aware of the importance of the dukedom entrusted to him, and his legacy for those who followed after him, he’d broached the matter with those whose opinion he respected and had been met with tacit approval.
    After breakfast, Henry, tongue lolling, ran ahead of Robin’s horse as he cantered down the avenue. He watched the long-muzzled, sleek hound loping along, the sun shining on his fine silvery coat. A gentle animal, unless he saw a rabbit. When found, he’d been causing havoc at the home farm chasing the fowl, and would have been shot had Robin not intervened.
    When Robin visited the gamekeeper’s cottage, Temple advised him poachers were about the estate. He’d taken Robin to view the evidence, and they’d found a fox in a trap with a badly broken leg. Temple had had to shoot the poor creature.
    Robin arrived home in a temper. He hated traps and forbade the use of them, even though he was informed they were a necessity. He was then approached by his steward, who advised him that the housekeeper had given notice. She wished to live with her ailing brother in Manchester, and he would need to find a suitable replacement. It was a nuisance. Mrs. Mayberry had been here many years and was discreet and competent. A good housekeeper was of vital importance to the smooth running of the house, and such difficult household matters did little for Robin’s temper.
    At three o’clock, Charity arrived with Mercy and joined him in the salon.
    “Good afternoon, ladies. Shall we have tea before we begin?”
    “A pity you didn’t meet Lord Gunn, Robin,” Mercy said. “He called in on his way to London this morning. He is such an interesting man. I likened him to big cuddly bear.”
    Robin stiffened.
    “The first of the paintings I wish you to view is hung in this room,” he said in a cool tone. “A frivolous Fragonard I dislike.”
    Charity studied the canvas in its heavy guilt frame. “The work suits the salon,” she said, returning to sit down. “Why don’t you like it?”
    “I’m not a fan of veiled eroticism.”
    She poured tea into porcelain cups. Handing him a cup and saucer, she gazed at him with a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t know you were so straight-laced. Or is it because you prefer more serious works? Portraits, paintings of historical events, or the classics, perhaps?”
    “I don’t believe I am at all straight-laced.” Her amusement annoyed him. He seemed on a short wick today. “It might look better in a lady’s boudoir.”
    She replaced her cup in its saucer. “Then why not have it removed there?”
    He frowned. “I’ll have it hung in one of the guest chambers. One that is seldom used.” He’d been waiting to consult his bride on the matter. For some reason, Charity’s indifference annoyed him even more.
    She frowned back at him. “I’m not sure you really want my advice.”
    “Your opinion is important to me. I’m sorry for being so bad-tempered. It’s been an excruciating morning,” he said. What the devil had gotten into him? He never used to be so dashed impatient. It felt as though he was wading through treacle while the object of his desire just moved farther away. Having a woman