The sun through the windows fell full upon him, drawing glints of deep red from the depths of his shining black hair.
His eyes met hers, and, for a moment, everything else fell away. There was something… unexpected… in his expression, something which left Maria feeling shaky and unsure. Then he pulled his eyes from hers, going to his mother and taking her hands in greeting.
“Charles! It’s about time you arrived. Given that you know where the marble urns are, I will take that as you volunteering to arrange their disposition throughout the ballroom and the other rooms. I hope that you’ll be here from now, until after the wedding – I’m sure that Hunter’s estates can survive that long without your direct attention.”
Charles laughed, and the warm, mellow tone of it shivered through Maria, vibrating deep inside her. She had known him for all of these years, but, somehow, today, she saw him differently – she saw the man that he had become, not the teasing boy that he had been. And the man was breath-taking. Confused, and a little embarrassed by her thoughts, she turned her attention aside, staring out the window. What was she doing, she, a married woman, thinking such thoughts about a man, no matter that he had been a friend since childhood?
“Yes Mother, I will be here until a little after the wedding. I’ve left instructions with our staff at each of the estates, to carry things through until then. You’ve no need to fear that I’ll disappear on you, no matter how much I may be tempted to do so, as the wedding gets closer!”
The Duchess drew herself up and glared at him, as if affronted, then laughed herself, shaking her head.
“What have I done, to deserve children who are so unrepentantly impertinent?”
“Errrr, perhaps it is because you always encouraged us to think for ourselves?”
“Indeed, and perhaps I regret that now.”
It was said with amusement, and love, not with any true annoyance, and Maria felt a sudden urge to tears, at the comparison between the Duchess’ manner, and the Dowager Countess’ manner, which had bedevilled her days for the last months. Nerissa was beyond lucky, in the situation that her marriage would bring her, no matter the unusual manner in which her betrothal had come about.
~~~~~
Charles had debated whether he should go and change, and brush the dust of travel from his clothes, before greeting the family, but had, in the end, been caught by the sound of his mother’s voice from the parlour, and chosen to go and answer her question, before retiring to his rooms. The wedding to come was a delight and a trial for his mother, but he knew that she enjoyed every moment, even whilst she bemoaned the difficulties.
He spoke as he stepped through the door, his eyes, out of habit, scanning the room to see who, apart from his mother, was present. For a moment, everything stopped – he had no idea how long he stood there, between one step and the next, his eyes caught, his mind in shock. He should have expected it, but, somehow, he had not.
There, on the couch, sat Lady Maria… no, not Lady Maria any more, now she was the Countess of Granville.
He had not seen her since the day of her wedding, had not in fact, seen London since that day. When he had walked away from the church, after seeing her wed, he had gone to a tavern, and drunk himself almost senseless. It had not dulled the pain. He had returned to Barrington House, slept off the physical effects, and departed London the morning after. But the image of her in the church had never left him, nor the pain which came with it.
Now, her sister was to marry his brother – it was to be expected that he would see her – yet he had, it seemed, ignored that possibility. He could ignore it no longer, for she sat before him. Her head turned, the warm glow of the window behind her making her hair glow gold, with tiny glints of fire where the reddish strands caught the light, and her eyes met his. Time stopped.
Her eyes were full of something, something different – an echo of his own pain, almost? He was being unconscionably rude, staring. He forced himself to breathe, to drag his eyes away. She was married, she was not for him, never had been, no matter what his dreams. Time started again, laboured and painful, and he kept walking, going to greet his mother.
The short conversation restored him to his senses, and, once his mother let him turn away, he greeted the guests. Lady Chester was almost like an aunt, having known him since childhood, and seen the impact of all of the mischief that he had got up to, in collaboration with her son, Kevin.
“Good day to you, Lady Chester. I trust that you are enjoying all of this wedding preparation? Is a second wedding in the same year wonderful? Or is it all too much?”
Lady Chester laughed lightly at his question.
“Oh it’s wonderful, if exhausting. A surprise, perhaps… but a good one.”
He turned to Maria, suddenly uncertain, unsure what to say, and opted for simplicity.
“Lady Granville, delightful to see you again. I trust that marriage is treating you well?”
Something odd passed across her face, some trace of emotion that had nothing to do with happiness. It was fleeting, and gone, but left him wondering.
“Lord Wareham, I am indeed well, and glad to be here to see my sister wed – although I feel, at present, a little like I have been swept into a whirlwind, there is so much to arrange!”
Interesting – she had not, at all, really answered his question. Yet – she smiled, and he was not sure if he had imagined that moment of emotion – perhaps he had, for, no matter how much he wished she were not married, not bound to someone else, he wished her happy, more than anything. He would need to adjust to seeing her, for it seemed the next month would bring them into contact most days, as the wedding drew their families together.
He turned to his sisters, needing time to adjust, but her face was branded into his mind, in that tiny instant of unidentified emotion. He suspected that image would haunt him, until he understood what was behind her expression.
~~~~~
The following weeks were a kind of sweet torture for Maria. She loved the time spent with her family, and tried, as much as she could, to make up for the fact that she had been so very self-centred before her marriage. She appreciated Nerissa’s view of the world so much more, now – even if she could not tell Nerissa why. The continuing drabness of her marriage embarrassed her, in a way. She had been so proud of making a good match, so self-important about her new title. Yet now she thought such things irrelevant – love and happiness were of far greater value.
It had been a hard lesson to learn, but it had been learnt.
Each night, when she returned to Wollstonefort House, she hoped that Edmund would be glad to see her, that he might treat her as he had before their marriage. Yet he seemed unsure, a little withdrawn. They went to the theatre, and she enjoyed that, but it was as if he were a stranger – they did not talk of anything significant. And at night, whilst he occasionally came to her bed, it was no more positive an experience than it had been at Myniard House. She was puzzled, for she had heard some women whisper of ‘the pleasures of the bedchamber’ and had, before her marriage, been intrigued. It was all a rather large disappointment.
And, each day, when she saw Lord Wareham, the contrast between him and Edmund was impossible to ignore. Wareham was confident, bright, mostly cheerful, kind, and undoubtedly handsome. Edmund, simply, was not – he tried to be kind, but somehow seemed to completely miss what she cared about, or might desire. Life ahead of her looked very bleak – for if this time in London had not changed her relationship with her husband, perhaps nothing would. And once they returned to Myniard House… The thought was beyond depressing.
Still, each day, her worries about her husband were pushed aside by the wedding preparations. Mostly… she found herself looking forward to those moments when she saw Viscount Wareham (Charles, said her mental voice – no matter what title he wears now, he is still Charles, who played with me when I was a small child.). Their conversations were pragmatic – all to do with wedding organisation, yet, somehow, they made her feel better �
�� until she got home, and faced, yet again, the fact that her husband did not make her feel good, even without the presence of his overbearing mother. And then she would feel guilty, all the pleasure of the day washed away in an instant.
~~~~~
Finally, the day of the wedding had arrived. Charles was happy for his brother, for it had become obvious that Hunter did truly love Nerissa, and would be happy with her, yet he could not wait for the wedding to be done with. He needed to escape. Seeing Maria (for that was how he thought of her, no matter what title she bore now) almost every day, wore at him, like rough cloth scrubbed on the skin, and left him feeling sensitive to every tiny nuance of her emotions, her movements, her expressions.
It was a delight to be with her, and agony at the same time. For she was still Maria, still beautiful, perhaps more so, for she seemed to have grown as a person, to now be more concerned with the truth of a person than with appearances. Yet, the simple fact remained – she was married – beyond his reach forever. It left him feeling guilty, dirtied by his own thoughts, that he should desire her presence so much – yet he could not change that.
As he watched the ceremony, the soothing ritual of the marriage flowing over him, the age-old words spoken, echoing through the vaulted church, he was still acutely aware of Maria, just a short distance away. She watched her sister, watched the joy that was evident in both Nerissa and Hunter, with an odd little smile – almost wry – and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. He had the strangest feeling that they were not tears of happiness.
Again, the urge seized him – to discover what was hidden by her determined smiles, to uncover the secrets of those fleeting emotions that he saw in her face, when she thought no one observed her. He pushed it aside. It was not his place to care.
Soon, it was done, and the newlywed couple left the church, to much acclaim from all. Charles stood in the shadow of the church door, watching as they departed in the carriage, his mind lost, months in the past, when here, in this same church, he had watched Maria wed. The temptation to go and drink himself blind rose again. He pushed it aside – his brother expected him to be there, for the rest of the day, and he would be – no matter the pain it brought.
Chapter Five
Two hours later, Charles took his seat at the table reserved for the family, to eat. He discovered that he had been placed between his brother’s new wife, and Maria. On Maria’s other side sat her husband. He watched the man, and his interactions with Maria, with interest, which soon became amazement. The Earl of Granville had not been present at any of the wedding planning, so this was Charles’ first chance to see him and Maria together. He had to conclude that the man was mad, or blind. For he sat there, ignoring his beautiful wife, instead utterly absorbed by a conversation about hunting with Charles’ great uncle Alfred, who sat on the Earl’s other side.
Nerissa was completely focussed on Hunter, and Charles, perforce, turned to Maria, unable to leave her sitting silent and disregarded.
“My Lady, I must ask – are you as glad as I am that our siblings are now wed? For, much as I hold my brother in high regard, the last few weeks have been exhausting.”
She turned to him, her pale green eyes reflecting a moment’s amusement, which slipped away, to be replaced by something that looked almost like sadness.
“I am, for I wish them every happiness in the world – they are so obviously right for each other - yet I am not, for this day’s completion brings closer the time when I will leave all those dear to me, who are gathered here, and return to the country.”
“You do not enjoy life in the country?” Her eyes flicked towards her husband a moment, then back to him. She sighed and looked down at her clasped hands before replying.
“The countryside is pleasant enough, and I must admit that Myniard Park is beautiful, yet…” Her voice trailed off, and she stared out across the room, as if not seeing what was in front of her at all. After a moment, she continued, her voice very soft, “…I do not always find the society available to me to be pleasant.” Charles had the sense that she had just said more than she had intended, that he had been privileged to receive a confidence. He felt honoured – yet perhaps he was imagining it?
“Oh? I have always felt that we were lucky in our neighbours at Meltonbrook Chase – are you not so blessed at Myniard House?”
Her smile was brittle, strained, and she paused, as if considering her next words very carefully. He waited, wondering what was beneath her seemingly calm surface, that required such careful thought. Her eyes locked with his, and her words came slowly, freighted with what was unsaid.
“I would not say that it is the neighbours who are the issue, exactly.”
That sentence could be taken so many ways – which did she mean? Did she refer to her husband? Surely not! And yet… here they sat, whilst the man ignored her. Or was there more to it than even that? The more he saw of her, the more he learned, the more curious Charles became. And the more certain that he had, indeed, seen flashes of sadness and pain in her eyes, always quickly hidden. She might be forever lost to him, yet he could not bear to see her suffer such pain as those last words implied.
“Ah, I see. Then it is somewhat more difficult to remedy than simply seeking out others to spend time with, from further afield?”
“Yes, that is a true assessment. And… even should I do that, I would not, as things are, invite others to visit my… home.” The hesitation in her voice before that last word told him much that had not been said, and his heart broke for her. Here she sat, in a room filled with joy, as her sister went into what was obviously a love match, whilst she was ignored, and, it seemed, suffered some unspecified troubles at home. Troubles that he had no right to enquire into, nor any ability to resolve for her. What could he say?
“That sounds like an… unfortunate… position to be in. But surely there are things you can do, to fill your time? The running of a large household must at least provide distraction?” Her eyes snapped up to his, as if assessing the intent of his innocent words. He was caught by that look, frozen where he was. He suspected that, in that instant, despite his best intent, his feelings were clear on his face. Her expression changed, and a blush rose to her cheeks. Her eyes still clung to his, a moment more, full of a longing that he did not understand.
Then she turned her head away, and spoke in a whisper, as if to be sure that no one else heard.
“It would… were I permitted to do so.”
The bitterness was evident in every syllable, so sharp it edged towards the sound of despair. Charles drew back a moment, shocked, feeling her words almost as a physical blow. What happened, in that house, to leave her in such a state, so disempowered?
Instinctively, he reached out, his hand closing over hers, where they lay in her lap, tightly clasped together. What he had intended as a gesture of comfort became, in that instant, far more. Heat flared where they touched, flashing through his whole body - she looked up at him, startled, and it was clear that she felt something also. Shocked, he pulled his hand back, breathing hard. But their eyes remained locked, and, without words, spoke of all the ‘might-have-beens’ that lay between them. He struggled to continue to breathe, to find words, to go on as if nothing had happened. Eventually, he managed to look away from her eyes, and to speak.
“You shock me with what that implies, yet… I do not find myself surprised. Is there any way to… improve the situation?”
A small, brittle, self-mocking laugh escaped her.
“Were there one, I would have applied it by now, a thousand times over. I am left with patience, which has never been a strength for me, and grim determination.”
He looked at her, knowing that he was doomed, knowing that, no matter what their circumstances, this woman held his heart, as she had since he was a boy.
“My Lady, should there be a time when you need assistance… always, you may call upon me. I know that what I have just said is, by all of society’s standards, inappropriate, yet I must make this
offer – I could not bear for you to suffer, if there was a way in which I might alleviate that condition.”
She tensed, the sound of her sharply indrawn breath distinct to him, and her eyes glittered, as if unshed tears waited there. The moment that their eyes met extended, as if time had stopped, and he treasured the feeling, the sense that subterfuge had been stripped away, and something honest declared between them.
“I… appreciate your intent, and I am honoured that you would make such an offer. I will hold those words close in my memory, even whilst I pray that I never need to call upon you.”
He nodded. Somehow, there was nothing left to say. By unspoken mutual consent, they allowed silence to take them, each acutely aware of the other, yet proceeding to eat, and drink, to observe others in the room, and to go on as if nothing had changed.
Yet everything had. Everything.
~~~~~
Charles did not sleep well, the conversation with Maria replaying itself over and over in his dreams. He was beyond glad when the day was quiet, as everyone recovered from the wedding, and the exhausting weeks leading up to it. He could not, he thought, have faced seeing Maria again, so soon, now that he had this new insight into her life.
He could not understand why her husband, blessed with a beautiful and intelligent woman like Maria, treated her so – ignoring her in public and, it seemed, making, or allowing her life to be made a misery, in private. How could a man do such a thing?
He went back to his normal routine of focusing on the management of the estates, and planned to leave London for his normal circuit of the estates within a week after the wedding. That would honour his promise to his mother, to stay until after the wedding, and remove him from the risk of seeing the woman he could never have, as soon as possible. And, he reminded himself, he still had another promise, one now three years old, to honour, a promise made to a dying man, to find and protect his wife. But he had not found Marion yet, and wondered if he ever would.
Rescuing the Countess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 13) Page 3
