Charlotte kept her eyes on her lap as Ellen tweaked and pulled, and dabbed a hare’s foot of powder across her face. Her future seemed to roll ahead of her, unknown and terrifying. Panic roiled across her, stealing her breath. She clenched her hands more tightly, forcing herself to breathe slowly. It would not do to show her fear to the servants.
When Ellen left, with a smile, a curtsy, and a murmured, “Congratulations, Lady Charlotte,” she finally lifted her gaze to the mirror, only to look into the face of a stranger. Somehow she seemed older, the arrangement firmly pulling her hair back accentuated her face. Her cheekbones looked more prominent, and her eyes seemed less round. But this stranger was paler, too, with dulled eyes, as though the excitement others shared drained life from her.
A memory from last night surfaced: Clara, pale-faced, wan-looking, staring after the man she could not marry. Her heart wrenched again. Would she be forced to look at Lord Markham—oh, dear God, Lord Markham!—with the haunted eyes of Clara DeLancey? Be laughed at behind a thousand fluttering fans?
But what could she do? What could she do? Escape out the window? Rush onto the street? What choice did she have but to somehow put on dignity and comply with her parents’ decree?
A knock at the door preceded her own maid’s entrance. “Lady Charlotte? Your mother sent me to say they are awaiting you downstairs.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” But she did not move.
“Lady Charlotte?”
She met her maid’s eyes in the looking glass.
“May I say how pleased we all are for your good news?”
“Thank you,” she replied mechanically, forcing her lips to push up in the faintest semblance of a smile.
“Oh, but you do look nice. Ellen has such a way with hair, doesn’t she? I wish I had half her skill.”
From through the open window came the sound of a carriage slowing, stopping, the snort and stamp of a horse. Sarah rushed to the window. “Oh, he’s here!”
Charlotte’s fingers clenched.
“Oh, my lady, come and look!”
She couldn’t move. Her limbs felt like liquid.
“Oh, but he is elegant! Always dresses to a nicety, but with nothing of the dandy. You’ll make a handsome pair, if I might say so, my lady.”
Moisture clogged her eyes, her throat. She blinked rapidly, dragged in another breath, relieved Sarah’s spying gave her the chance to recover from her emotion.
Sarah finally left her position by the window to come to the dressing table. As she studied Charlotte, the light in her face dimmed. “My lady?”
Charlotte swallowed, willing her voice not to waver. “Please be so kind as to let Mama know I shall be down directly.”
“Of course.” Sarah bobbed a curtsy and moved to the door, where she hesitated.
“Yes?”
“If I might be so bold, my lady?”
Charlotte waited, bracing herself internally for whatever her sharp-eyed maid had to say.
“May I just say that while this is a new circumstance, which may seem a little daunting, marriage is something in which to rejoice, and the duke, well, he is not the tyrant some say.”
She turned sharply. “Who says?”
Sarah blushed. “Some of the maids from the big houses get to talking sometimes, and I’ve heard it said he is a blackguard and a madman.”
A blackguard and a madman? She swallowed. “But you don’t believe it?”
“No more than I believe anything a bitter person might say.”
“Who said?”
“I’m not rightly sure, but I think she was the maid to the late duchess.”
Charlotte shivered.
“Now, don’t you be worrying yourself, my lady. Her fate won’t be your lot.”
She grasped the small hope like a drowning person might a lifeline. “But how can you know?”
“Because I’ll be praying for you.”
Her words pierced the soul, forcing Charlotte to dash away an errant tear. “Please don’t stop.”
“Trust in the Lord, my lady. He’s the One who gives us hope.”
Hope.
The word wavered in the room, almost a tangible thing, as her maid curtsied and finally left the room. Lord God, Charlotte breathed, please help me.
She pushed to her feet, brushed down her skirts, glanced at the unfamiliar reflection one more time. Filled with trepidation, filled with regrets, countered only by the tiniest flicker of hope instilled by her maid’s—her maid’s!—words, she exited the room.
Bracing to meet her destiny.
William flicked at an imaginary piece of fluff in an effort to avoid meeting the gaze of his soon-to-be new mother-in-law. From the mantelpiece the Sèvres clock ticked resolutely.
“I don’t know what is keeping her,” the marchioness said, forcing his attention to return to her overly smiling face. “Charlotte was in such a tizzy at the thought of marrying you.”
He nodded, hiding his frustration that her parents had broached the idea of his marriage to their daughter before he’d had the chance to say anything himself. He’d asked the marquess to pay his addresses to Charlotte, to get to know her in a formal way, until both he and she were certain, for he would not have her coerced into something she did not wish. Her parents seemed to have taken his request as certainty.
“She’s terribly eager, you understand,” Lady Exeter continued. “Very excited.”
But the look the marquess slid his wife only fueled the uncertainty. Now the only thing of which he was truly certain was that the marchioness herself was terribly eager for the marriage to occur.
He supposed he could not blame her. His previous proposal, four years prior, had been met with rapturous enthusiasm from Pamela’s mother that was nearly matched by her daughter, as if they could not believe their good fortune, that a duke would condescend to marry a mere viscount’s daughter. To her credit, Pamela had maintained the facade for the first year at least, enough to make him think she at least liked him, but when he’d found faith, she seemed to find more interest elsewhere. While his conversation with Charlotte made him sure she possessed more faith than Pamela ever did, he was thankful she was blessed with a cousin whose faith shone in everything she said and whose influence he hoped and prayed would only deepen Charlotte’s commitment to the Lord.
William glanced at the clock again. He was used to Pamela’s lengthy toilettes, but this wait did not exactly scream eagerness. Fear pricked. She wouldn’t have run away?
“Duke,” the marchioness began, with another of those irritatingly high-pitched laughs, “please forgive—oh!” She turned as Charlotte entered, forcing him to his feet. “Ah, here she is at last,” the marchioness said. “And doesn’t she look beautiful?”
“Yes,” he replied obediently, but it was true. Charlotte appeared older today, her hair more severe, her poise more restrained. He glimpsed the woman she would be in several decades, her aristocratic heritage evident in the line of her jaw, her cheeks, her thin nose. Beautiful. Elegant. His.
Please God.
He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Lady Charlotte.”
“Good afternoon, Duke.” Charlotte gave him one quick, troubled look, before lowering her head.
A pang shot through him. Was she frightened of him? Or was it marriage for which she was not so keen?
He glanced at the marquess and marchioness, eyebrows raised.
Exeter coughed. “Well, we best leave you both to become further acquainted.” He rose, motioned to his wife. “Come, Constance.”
“Oh! Of course.” She smiled widely at William before murmuring to her daughter, “For goodness’ sake, smile!”
His own smile faded, as the doubts crowded in anew. The young lady was not pleased, that was plain, but perhaps that was mere nerves. Heaven knew he felt nervous enough himself.
“Lady Charlotte?”
She jumped.
“Please, shall we sit?”
“Of c–course.”
She chose a
single seat, foiling his desire to sit beside her again, forcing him to claim the chair opposite. Her posture was upright, yet her eyes still refused to meet his.
He cleared his throat. “I understand this has been something of a surprise.”
Her too-pale cheeks grew rosy. “I, er … yes.”
“I hope you will forgive the seeming suddenness of my …” What could he say? How could he apologize for the proposal her parents assumed he had made? He could not embarrass either her or them by saying such a thing.
“Of your … ?”
Now he felt his cheeks heat. “Of my appearance here today.”
She nodded, gaze still not touching his. But it seemed she relaxed a little.
“You understand why I am here?”
“Father said … you wished to marry. Me,” she added, as if an afterthought.
Again he fought the spurt of resentment at having his proposal usurped. “I wish to know whether you wish such a thing.”
Her gaze met his then, and again he was entranced by the clarity of the blue eyes. So innocent, so pure, yet he could see the trouble shading them.
“You do not, do you?” he said softly.
Pink lips parted, then closed, as her eyes widened. “I … I am conscious of the tremendous honor you do me.”
“But you do not wish to marry me.”
She frowned. “Why do you say this, sir? I thought you wished to marry me?”
His lips pursed, as he strove to hide a sigh. “I have no wish to marry someone who has little inclination to marry me.”
“But I do!”
He leaned against the cushions, studying her. She seemed almost scared, as if should she fail to convince him, he would depart. He frowned. Was it fear of losing him or fear of something—or someone—else that had her so concerned?
“My dear, may I be completely open with you?”
She nodded.
“It is not, it has never been, my intention to alarm you. I wish for a wife, and I think you and I would suit. My intention today was merely to see if you would be amenable to considering an offer from me, not to force you into something for which you have no desire.” He picked up his gloves from the table. “I do not make it my practice to intimidate young ladies into matrimony, neither do I wish them to feel obligated, simply because I should wish to pay my addresses to them. I am exceedingly sorry you have been placed in such an awkward position.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. “Do you wish to leave?”
“I have no wish to stay where my presence is unwelcome.”
She licked her bottom lip. Her hands were pressed together so tightly he could see the whitened knuckles. “I … I do not find your presence unwelcome, sir.”
“No?” He raised a brow.
Charlotte blushed, but her eyes kept his steadily. “I appreciate your candor, sir.”
“Truly?”
She nodded. “I … I confess to being somewhat surprised at the … the speed at which things have progressed. I am not used to such things.”
He suppressed a smile. “Of course.” He returned the gloves to their position. “May I say that it is also not my habit to propose to every beautiful young lady fresh on the social scene?”
Her smile peeked out. “I am glad for your sake, sir.” At his raised brow, she continued. “For that would make you a veritable Lothario.”
He chuckled. The tension in the room dropped a notch. “I confess to being anything but.”
“I’m glad,” she said simply, and his heart warmed.
Yes, despite the hesitancies, despite the fear, the situation still held an ember of hope.
“Sir, I … please forgive my parents for rushing to assume. It is …” Her gaze lowered. “It is my mother’s dearest wish for me to be settled respectably, and she can get a trifle carried away. She meant no harm, I’m sure.”
“No harm done. Lady Charlotte.” He waited until her eyes crept to his again. “Would you permit me to pay my addresses to you?” He smiled. “We can wait to see if this will prove to be something to our mutual satisfaction if you like.”
“Oh, but Mama—” She raised a hand to her mouth. “Whatever would we say to her?”
“Simply that. That we wish to get to know each other a little more before leaping into something as binding as an engagement.”
“You would do that for me?”
“I would do that for both of us.”
She laughed, as if in relief. “Oh, sir. You cannot know what trepidation I have felt.”
He forced his smile to not waver. She was that worried about his suit? “As I said earlier, I would not have you feeling any sense of obligation or fear.”
“Oh, I don’t fear you,” she said ingenuously.
Whom did she fear, then? Her mother?
“I shall speak to your father, and suggest that, given your youth and my recent bereavement, it may be precipitous to announce an engagement.”
Her eyes shimmered. “You would do that for me, sir?”
“Again, I would do that for both of us.”
She smiled, a smile that seemed to fill her face. “Oh, Sarah said you were kind, but I never expected you to show such forbearance.”
Whoever Sarah was, it appeared he owed her a debt of gratitude. “It may interest you to know that I have no wish to repeat the mistakes of the past.” He had no wish for a wife who would not keep her vows.
“I am sorry, sir, that your first marriage was not all it could be.”
First marriage. While her pity panged him a little, her words evoked a frisson of anticipation. First marriage. She spoke as if she would be part of his second. His heart buoyed.
Until he saw her frown.
“Oh, I only hope Mama and Father will understand.” She looked up with that confiding air again. “Mama will be disappointed to not have a wedding date to plan for.”
Of course. “Perhaps … perhaps their disappointment might be mitigated by a stay in the country. Do you think they might like to visit Hartwell?”
She blinked. “I … I thank you, sir. But if we stay, surely that’s tantamount to announcing a betrothal?”
She was right. He’d have to word things in such a way to still somehow give that impression, while keeping the options open for both Charlotte and himself. “Perhaps a larger party might be of benefit. I could invite other friends.” Other friends? His words mocked him. What friends could he claim?
“You mean like Lavinia and the earl?”
“Exactly.” He smiled.
The relief evident in her eyes changed into something warmer, more receptive. Still, he sensed that if he pressed his advantage her only response would be the return of the earlier fear, and he did not want that. He wanted her to trust him, to realize he was a man of his word, someone who would always keep his vow to love and honor, someone from whom she would never feel it necessary to turn away, to seek comfort in the arms of another man.
He moved to her seat, bowing, until she was at eye level. “I give you my word, Lady Charlotte, you will never have reason to fear me.”
From here he could smell the sweet scent she used, see the flicker of an eyelash.
She nodded, and his gaze dropped to her lips. But it was too soon for that. He settled for picking up her hand. He rubbed a thumb over her palm; her skin felt smooth and warm.
Lifting her hand to his lips he pressed them in the most gentle of kisses. Heard her breath catch. “Oh …”
Before he could fall back, the doors opened hurriedly, admitting a keen-eyed marchioness, trailed by a shame-faced marquess.
“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order! You are the most fortunate of young ladies, dearest Charlotte, to receive such attentions from the duke here.”
“Mama—”
“And may I felicitate you on the happy news, too, sir,” she continued, as if her daughter hadn’t spoken. “Now, have you fixed a date?”
William’s gaze travelled from Lord Exeter to Charlotte, who seemed to be lo
oking at him with pleading eyes, to finally meet Lady Exeter’s expectant stare. “We have not.”
“Oh? Forgive my surprise. I had wondered what you were doing in here for so long.”
He fought the churn of indignation that rose at her tone—and insinuation. “We have decided something, my lady.”
“Yes?”
“As neither your daughter nor I have any wish to be fuel for gossip-mongers”—nor to be maneuvered into matrimony, he added silently—“we have decided an announcement of any engagement must be postponed for a time longer, at least until six months of mourning have passed.”
“What?”
He worked to keep his tone mild. “My dear Lady Exeter, I am sure you can understand my objections to being made fodder for tittle-tattle, and no doubt you share my reluctance to see your daughter exposed to society’s rumormongers.”
“Yes, but—”
“Madam, forgive my plain speaking, but surely you do not wish it to be said I killed my wife simply so I could marry Lady Charlotte?”
Lady Exeter’s mouth fell open. He glanced at Charlotte, whose jaw closed with a snap.
“But, sir, you are still intending to marry her, are you not?” The marchioness’s face clouded. “We should not wish you to be sued for breach of promise.”
He swallowed the spurt of anger, staring at her steadily until an ugly red flush marked her skin.
“Hartington, please forgive my wife. She is apt to leap ahead of—”
Reality, William muttered inwardly.
“Circumstances,” her husband said, far more diplomatically, casting his daughter a look that could almost pass as loving. “We would not want Charlotte to feel manipulated into something she would not wish for—”
“Manipulated!” his wife exclaimed.
“Nor would we wish to alienate the duke by bounding ahead into wrong assumptions.” This was said with a meaningful look at his wife that quieted that lady, whilst earning a look of approval from his daughter.
The Captivating Lady Charlotte Page 15
