CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN – VYING FOR HER AFFECTION

One evening, just as Charlotte was refilling a surly farmer's tankard, the door to The Rusty Anchor swung open with a protesting creak. She glanced up and felt her breath catch in her throat. It was Richard, dressed far too finely in a navy frock coat and tan breeches for the rough environs of the village pub. His expression was neutral, but Charlotte could see the tightness around his eyes, the subtle downturn of his mouth. He was jealous. Her chest felt simultaneously light as air and weighed down by a vague sense of guilt. There was nothing untoward in her actions. Truly, James' flirtations were more performance than anything else. And yet, that same kernel of doubt persisted. Was she enjoying the attention more than she let on? Did some deeply buried part of her still crave that delicious sense of being desired above all others? If so, what did that say about her commitment to the total honesty she'd promised Richard? Before she could dwell too long on those troubling thoughts