At a loss for words, Gavin’s mouth opened and closed, rather like a landed trout gasping for air.
He had always dealt handily with women before. He’d hardly call describe himself as a Lothario, but he could be charming when necessary. Except, it seemed, with his own fiancée.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly.
She sniffed back her tears. “It was a rhetorical question.”
He let her go when she shoved past him. Moving to the edge of the terrace, he wrapped his fingers around the railing and leaned halfway over the edge, forcing himself to stare at the ground below. It was as effective as dunking his head in cold water and he stumbled back with a gasp, his heart pounding and pulsing racing, though he could not tell if his reaction was due to his fear of heights–or the fact that he was now engaged.
Charlotte found Dianna dancing with a penguin.
She waited impatiently for the Quadrille to finish, hovering nearby like an anxious mother. When the music died away and the penguin dipped into a bow, Charlotte ducked in before Dianna could curtsy, grabbed her by the hand, and hauled her from the ballroom.
“Will you stop dragging me,” Dianna said breathlessly once they were outside. A couple that had been lounging along the marble steps hastily straightened their clothes and rushed past them, laughing madly.
Her mind spinning, Charlotte released Dianna’s arm and leaned against an enormous ivory pillar. The white plaster was cool against her flushed cheek and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to slow the beat of her heart and to gather her racing thoughts.
From inside the mansion the masquerade continued, but someone had closed the French doors in the foyer and the noise had dimmed to an indistinct murmur. On the front pavilion the only thing Charlotte could hear was the pounding of her own heart. It roared in her ears, a fire fueled with anger and disappointment.
She was furious at Gavin. But more than that, she was hurt. By all the things he’d said…and all the things he hadn’t.
Charlotte did not want to marry Paine. Of that she was absolutely certain. But a marriage–at least the sort of marriage she wanted–was supposed to be an equal partnership, not a dictatorship. By choosing Gavin over the duke, was she merely exchanging one controlling husband for another?
Except a man who gave his future wife permission to seek a lover outside of the marriage bed could hardly be viewed as controlling. Gavin had made it clear that she could do whatever she wanted, with whomever she wanted, so long as she portrayed a dutiful wife in public. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?
She didn’t want a random lover.
She wanted her fiancé.
A fiancé that had made it very clear he did not want her in return.
‘As long as you are discreet, I do not care whom you share your delectable little body with. This is not a love match. It is a business arrangement…’
Charlotte gritted her teeth as his words played back through her mind. A business arrangement, indeed! Gavin hadn’t been talking about business arrangements when her hand had been splayed across his stomach. If his stormy, tumultuous expression had been any indication, he’d been seconds removed from ravishing her against the terrace. Which was precisely what she wanted.
To be ravished.
To be desired.
To be loved.
If she wanted a business partner, she’d hire an accountant!
But Charlotte knew she hadn’t imagined the way Gavin’s muscles had quivered and tightened beneath her fingertips, or how his pupils had dilated, or the raspy edge that had entered his voice when he demanded she stop. There was an attraction there. A strong attraction. And maybe he could pretend it didn’t exist for a little while, but he surely he couldn’t ignore their magnetism forever.
“I am going to marry Mr. Graystone,” she decided.
“This is e-excellent news!” Dianna hiccupped, then grinned. It was a crooked sort of grin, the kind most comfortable on the lips of someone who had indulged in too many glasses of champagne.
Charlotte studied her friend more closely. Not only was Dianna swaying from side to side, her wig was missing! Charlotte had been so upset before, she hadn’t even noticed. Stifling a snort of laughter, she reached out a steadying hand. “Have you lost something?”
“Yes.” Frowning, Dianna turned in two wobbly circles. “I set my glass down somewhere and now I cannot find it. What are we doing out here? Is the masquerade over?”
“For us it is. Come along. I’ll help you down the steps.”
Dianna’s drunkenness was a welcome–and amusing–distraction from any further thoughts of Gavin. Arm in arm, the two women wove a broken, tottering line towards their waiting carriage, with Dianna stopping twice to exclaim over how white the moon was.
“Very white,” Charlotte agreed as she shoved her friend into her seat and climbed up behind her. Yawning hugely, the blonde burrowed herself into the corner and promptly fell asleep.
“Please drive slowly,” Charlotte instructed the driver when he came round to shut the door. “Miss Foxcroft isn’t feeling very well.”
“Aye,” the driver said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he fought off a smile. “I can see that. To your residence, then, Lady Charlotte?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Oh, and could you take us around the back so—”
“Your mother does not wake? Aye.” With a wink and a nod, the driver closed the door and climbed up into his seat. The carriage swayed ever so slightly, there was a jingle of harness, a horse’s quiet nicker, and then they were off.
Sliding across the seat until she was next to Dianna, Charlotte rested her head on her friend’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Within moments she, too, was sleeping.
And dreaming of Gavin.
Chapter Ten
“My head hurts like the dickens.” Sitting up in Charlotte’s bed with a groan, Dianna wrapped both hands around her temple and squinted across the dark room to where Charlotte stood in front of a massive armoire busily yanking out dresses and dropping them into a traveling trunk. “What time is it? Where are we? What are you doing?”
Charlotte rocked onto her heels. She had been awake for the past two hours. How could she sleep, when she’d just ended an engagement with one man and promised to marry another?
For a few fleeting seconds while she laid awake staring at the canopy above the bed and listening to the sounds of Dianna’s soft snores, Charlotte had considered just running away. From Paine. From Gavin. From everything and everyone. She’d take on a new identity, start a new life. A life where she was in charge. A life where she didn’t need a husband. A life where she could make all of her own decisions.
The idea was tempting. But she knew she couldn’t leave her mother indebted to Paine, no matter that it was of Bettina’s own doing. Besides, what would she do when she was out on her own? Society was very good at making proper young ladies, and very poor at ensuring they were self-reliant.
A woman of the peerage was bred and raised for a single occupation: to marry well and produce an heir. Barring that, they really were quite useless. What did Charlotte know of the real world? Gavin had called it cruel and unforgiving, and she feared he was right. Aside from embroidery, which she’d never been very good at, she had no marketable skills. No way to put a roof over her head or food in her belly. The scandal of her leaving Paine would be so great she doubted she could even get hired as a governess.
No, there was only one option allotted to her.
Only one choice.
For better or worse, she would be Gavin’s wife by week’s end, which meant she had approximately seventeen minutes to finish packing, get dressed, and magically transport her heavy traveling trunk down the stairs and out the front door without waking her mother.
“Charlotte, didn’t you hear me? I asked you a question. Well, two questions. I think. Or was it three?” Dianna flopped back onto the mattress and threw an arm over her face. “Why does it feel as though a small man is in my head wie
lding a hammer?”
“You imbibed in a few too many glasses of champagne last night.” Despite the dire constraint she found herself under, Charlotte could not help but grin. “You were well and truly foxed. I’ve never seen the like of it before.”
Dianna sat up on her elbow and squinted blearily in Charlotte’s general direction. Her hair was a halo of messy blond curls around her face and she was still wearing her costume from the masquerade as Charlotte had been unable to peel it off before she collapsed into bed upon their return. All things considered, Charlotte was just glad she’d managed to get them both up the stairs without alerting the entire household.
“I was?” Dianna pursed her lips. “How strange. Did I enjoy myself?”
“Immensely.”
“How do you know?”
Charlotte paused in the act of plucking yet another dress from the depths of the armoire. Frowning, she held it up and tried to gauge the color in the dim lighting. Was it navy blue or plum purple? Gavin hadn’t given her a list of items to pack, but she could only assume she wouldn’t be coming back here again (at least not until her mother’s ire had cooled), and she didn’t want to leave any of her favorite dresses behind.
“How do I know what?” she asked absently.
“That I indulged in too much champagne.”
“You woke up on the way home, declared yourself an opera singer, and hung out the window bellowing Come Fill, My Good Fellow at the top of your lungs. In French. The trio of gentlemen we passed were very entertained.”
“I did not,” Dianna breathed.
“You most certainly did.” Blue, Charlotte decided. The gown was definitely blue. Tossing it into the trunk, she began searching for her gray traveling habit. “Since I was the one who had to pull you back into the carriage before you killed yourself, I should know better than anyone.”
“I was a hoyden,” Dianna said, not sounding entirely displeased by the notion.
“Of the first order.” Having found what she was looking for, Charlotte closed the armoire.
“Then we are in your bedroom?”
“Yes, my driver brought us back here last night.”
Dianna muffled a yawn. “Why are you up so early? What time is it?”
“Just before dawn.” She glanced out the window to gauge the sunrise. The sky was beginning to fill with ribbons of pink and orange, which meant if Gavin’s carriage hadn’t already arrived, it would be here any minute. Quickly changing out of her nightdress, she reached for the traveling habit.
“Are you going somewhere?” For the first time seeming to notice the trunk at Charlotte’s feet, Dianna pushed herself into a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the bed, dragging the blanket with her. “I am never drinking to excess again,” she grumbled. “It makes it much too difficult to think.”
“I am packing for Gretna Green,” Charlotte replied, her voice muffled as she struggled to yank the dress over her head.
“Gretna Green? Why, that must mean…”
“Yes. I am marrying Mr. Graystone. I told you this last night.”
“WHAT?” Dianna shrieked. At Charlotte’s cutting glare she hunched her shoulders and meekly pressed a finger to her lips. “I know, I know. I did not mean to yell,” she whispered. “It is simply all so exciting! Leaving one man to run off and marry another. How romantic and dear. Tell me what happened. Leave no detail out. Did he get down on one knee? Did he proclaim his undying love for you?”
Having succeeded in pulling on the habit, Charlotte’s lips twitched at the idea of surly, brooding Gavin dropping down on his knee to propose.
“No, and most certainly no. Our marriage is going to be more akin to a business arrangement,” she said, echoing Gavin’s words from the night before.
Dianna’s brows drew together. “That doesn’t sound romantic or dear at all.”
“Maybe not,” she acknowledged. “But it’s a solution to my problem. And I would be foolish not to take Mr. Graystone up on his offer just because it isn’t exactly what I want.”
It had been a difficult realization for Charlotte to swallow. She’d agonized over it for nearly two hours, but in the end she had come to the conclusion that she would rather take a risk with a man who made her blood burn than one who made her skin crawl.
She may have wanted a prince charming–what girl didn’t?–but what she needed was a vicious knight ready to vanquish the dragon.
And Gavin Graystone was that knight.
“If you’re certain about your decision…” Dianna trailed off.
“I am.” Extending her arms, she buttoned her sleeve cuffs before gazing dubiously at her overstuffed trunk. How the devil was she going to get it closed, let alone out the front door? Not knowing what else to do, she sat on top of the lid and gestured for Dianna to come help buckle the leather straps.
“A tad more…there,” the blonde said triumphantly. “It’s closed. But I don’t know how we’re supposed to get it down the stairs.”
“Tabitha can help us.” Charlotte rang for the maid. Together, all three women managed to muster the trunk down the stairs and out onto the street. It was so early even the birds had yet to rise, and in the eerie quiet of dawn she turned to Dianna and threw her arms around her in an impulsive embrace.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she murmured, blinking away a sudden well of tears born of uncertainty and doubt. What was she thinking, running off with a man she barely knew? This was bound to end in disaster. How could it not? Her mother was going to despise her. Paine was going to come searching for her head. And Gavin…
“You are doing the right thing.” Taking Charlotte by the shoulders, Dianna leaned back and looked her squarely in the eye. “You’ve always been bored with this life. The tea parties and the balls. The socializing and the gossip. Now is your chance to go on an adventure. The sort most people can only dream about. I cannot lie and say it won’t be difficult. But oh, it’s also going to be grand.”
It was exactly what Charlotte needed to hear.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Dianna smiled. “What are friends for, if not to encourage us to be our best selves? You’re stifled here, Charlotte. And a flower can’t bloom in a pot that’s too small. There’s an entire world waiting, beginning with Gretna Green. This is the opportunity you’ve been yearning for. You need only to take it.”
Dianna’s words struck a chord deep inside of Charlotte, and by the time Gavin’s coach rolled around the corner, her doubts had been replaced with determination.
“Lady Charlotte Vanderley?” The driver of the coach, a tall, thin man with a brown cap pulled low over his brow and blond hair sticking out beneath it, jumped down onto the pavement and opened the door with a flourish when Charlotte nodded. “Ready when ye are, my lady.”
This was it.
She took a deep breath.
“My maid, Tabitha, will be accompanying me to Gretna Green.” Leaving Tabitha behind wasn’t even a question. As soon as Bettina discovered where her daughter had gone–Charlotte had left a note in the parlor explaining everything–she would be infuriated, and Charlotte wasn’t about to leave Tabitha behind to face her mother’s wrath alone.
The driver frowned. “Mr. Graystone didn’t say nothin’ about a maid.”
“She’s coming with me,” Charlotte said firmly. “That’s final.”
“I don’t know…” said the driver, rubbing his chin. “Mr. Graystone was pretty clear. I was to pick up one Lady Charlotte Vanderley, and bring ‘er safely to Gretna Green. There was no mention of no maid. And Mr. Graystone likes his orders followed to the letter, he does.”
Charlotte was sure he did. But she wasn’t backing down. “Listen here–”
“What a wonderful employee you are,” Dianna interceded sweetly. “To follow Mr. Greystone’s directions with such precision. What is your name, good sir?”
There wasn’t a man on earth who could resist Dianna’s charm, and the driver was no exception.
“Mr. Smith, my lady,” he said, dragging off his hat.
“Oh, you’re so very kind, but Miss Foxcroft will do just fine.” Dianna batted her lashes. “Mr. Smith, while I understand Mr. Graystone did not specifically mention a maid accompanying his fiancée, I’m certain he wouldn’t want Lady Charlotte to travel all that way alone. Do you?”
The drive scratched his chin. “I guess not.”
“I concur. Thus you would be doing him a great service by allowing Tabitha escort Lady Charlotte. I cannot speak for Mr. Graystone, of course, but if you were my employee I would award you rather handsomely.”
“All right,” Mr. Smith said gruffly. “She can come.”
Charlotte blinked in amazement as the driver hoisted her heavy trunk with enviable ease and slid it into a holding compartment underneath the belly of the carriage. “How did you do that?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth.
Dianna grinned. “Everyone knows you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. You should try it on your Mr. Graystone.”
“I don’t know if all the bees in the world could produce enough honey to sweeten him up,” Charlotte said dryly.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dianna’s gaze flicked over Charlotte’s shoulder, and her smile dimmed. “Mr. Smith is waiting. I believe it’s time to say goodbye.”
“I wish you could come with me,” Charlotte said before she flung her arms around Dianna and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. Their cheeks pressed together, the friends rocked from side to side as Tabitha climbed into the coach to give them a moment of privacy.
“As do I,” said Dianna. “But my parents would never allow it.”
That much was true. Martha and Rodger Foxcroft were unbearably protective of their only child. Ironic, really, seeing as they’d left the raising of Dianna to governesses and Abigail. To them, Dianna wasn’t so much a daughter as a she was a prized thoroughbred or a collectible vase. Something to be guarded, but not necessarily loved.
Runaway Duchess (London Ladies Book 1) Page 9
