Charles Lancaster was quite pleased to run into the only woman who had ever interested him. Even more so since her worthless husband wasn't around. A captivating mind like Catherine du Pont's was wasted on such a man.
She had strange dressing habits, laughed too much for a noble lady, and seemed to have no sense of decorum after living inside the palace for a while and being allowed too much freedom but that didn't matter to him. As long as he was able enjoy her sharp wit he could tolerate nearly anything.
Still, he couldn't deny that he hated how coldly she treated him. He had been warmer toward her than anyone else since the beginning. He had done his very best to be attentive so why had she fled from him straight into that dunce's arms?
