Though in the end, Francis supposed how it happened did not matter, only that it did. As long as Phin – who was a much more powerful duke than Springford – could buy Francis enough time to locate the mysterious Violet, then how he accomplished the task didn’t matter.
For the first time since Charlotte had bared herself to him at Lady Mayfield’s ball, all but begging him to ruin her, Francis felt a bit of hope that this mess might turn out in his favor after all.
First, however, he had to locate Charlotte. Then he had to confess all to her. Then he had to tell her that he loved her.
He hadn’t told her so last night when he had bedded her. He should have. She had deserved more than just his passion. She had deserved tender words as well.
It seemed he had a great deal to make up for where Charlotte was concerned and he would. Just as soon as he could locate her. Which, given her empty bedchamber when he arrived was not proving to be as easy as he had hoped.
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
The ball would be starting at any moment, and she really should be downstairs. Except that for the past quarter hour, every time Charlotte attempted to rise from the dressing table, she couldn’t. Well, she could. Her legs were not broken or anything so drastic as all that, and she could walk perfectly well. She simply did not want to rise.
Despite her vow to Cilla – who had generously offered Charlotte the use of her bedchamber so that she might dress and collect her thoughts in peace – that she would seek out Francis immediately, Charlotte had been unable to do that so far. Oh, she meant to locate him. She knew she had to speak with him, as well. She just did not seem to be able to muster up the strength to see to the task.
For what would she say?
I’m sorry, Francis and I hate to trouble you. I love you madly but I really must wed soon, so if not to you then to Lord Snowly. Else my father will likely sell me to the most disgusting old man he can locate.
Yes, she was certain that would go over quite well.
So instead of being brave, as she had vowed to do, Charlotte had hidden in her new friend’s bedchamber and dressed for a ball she probably wasn’t going to attend anyway. At the moment, she was feeling more inclined to plead a headache and hide under the bedclothes than waltz through the duke’s oversized, stuffy, and overly-crowded ballroom.
Though really, Charlotte should make an appearance. It really would also be a pity to waste her maid’s hard work, for she did look rather nice this evening.
Charlotte’s new pale blue watered silk gown clung to her in all of the right places. The crystal encrusted dancing slippers she had purchased at Madame LaVallier’s urging perfectly complimented the diamond-studded combs in her hair which had been done up in an elaborate twist. And she’d had just little enough sleep that the shadows beneath her eyes gave her a bit of mysterious look rather than making her appear ill or washed out as they usually did.
No, she looked fine. Better than fine, really. She was simply being a ninny. A scared ninny, but a ninny just the same. She could do everything else. Why could she not do this?
Because she was afraid, Charlotte realized as she gazed at her reflection. She was afraid that if she told Francis the truth, explained about her father’s ultimatum and revealed that she was considering going through with it that he would think her the worst sort of harlot for even considering such a thing. As it was, he probably already considered her a lightskirt or a wanton because of the way she had behaved last night in the bedchamber, no matter how much he had enjoyed himself.
At his heart, Francis was a good and noble man. He always did what was right, including wanting her father’s blessing before he wed her.
Francis held her in the same high regard. If he discovered that she was so amoral – or if not amoral then of questionable morals on occasion – would he still look at her the same way as he did now? Likely not. Especially since Francis was a man who always did what was right, no matter how difficult that path might be. What Charlotte was contemplating was akin to entering the world of courtesans and mistresses. Francis would never tolerate that sort of behavior.
If Francis learned that she had considered marrying the duke and then allowing Noah to bed her on her wedding night, would he still look at her as he did now? With caring and devotion in his eyes? And if he loved her now, would he still if he knew the truth?
Charlotte didn’t know and she was too afraid to learn the truth. That was why she was hiding.
However, she could not hide forever. She had to emerge from this room at some point, likely when Cilla was ready to turn in for the night. Might as well depart and get this over with so that she could get on with things. Whether or not she confessed all to Francis was still another matter completely.
Brushing the wrinkles out of her gown, Charlotte stood, collected her reticule and fan, and then let herself out into the silent hallway. From somewhere far below, she could hear the clink of glasses, the faint hum of music and a bit of laughter. The ball was underway, though only just according to the ormolu clock in Cilla’s chambers.
As Charlotte made her way down the hallway, she had to be careful not to bump into anything for many of the wall sconces were either unlit or had gone out for some reason, leaving unseen objects in her path. The larger objects she could see in shadow but the smaller ones like the carved Egyptian statues Fullbridge seemed to favor presented something of a problem.
As Charlotte picked her way carefully down the hall, cursing in a ladylike fashion at the duke’s servants under her breath all the while, a shadow along the opposite wall seemed to move. When she paused, Noah emerged from the darkness. As if he had been waiting for her. He probably had been. She was not so stupid as to believe otherwise.
“Noah!” Charlotte did not have time for this, especially when the man was lurking about in the shadows like some sort of underhanded spy or nefarious villain. She had to talk to Francis before she lost her courage. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be at the ball?”
“I was waiting for you.” The earl made no pretense for loitering about and something in Charlotte’s stomach clenched at his words. She hadn’t seen Noah at all today, not even when she’d ventured downstairs briefly for a late afternoon tea that Cilla had hosted in one of the larger drawing rooms. “I wanted to speak with you.”
She had a fairly good idea about what. “I looked for you earlier, Noah. I realize we haven’t spoken since yesterday at the ruins, but a good deal has changed since then.”
Noah took a step forward into the light and Charlotte gasped when she saw his blackened eye and the bruises covering his face.
“Noah! What has happened to you,” she cried in distress. “You look as if you have been in a brawl!” She reached out to touch his face but then pulled back before she could when he shied away from her.
For a moment, he looked ashamed. “There was an incident last evening. It is not worth noting.”
Charlotte begged to differ, but she had no wish to press the issue, especially since he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she asked, “Does it hurt?”
“Trust me, I feel as bad as I look, but that is not the point. The point is, we came to an agreement yesterday, Charlotte, and I intend to hold you to it. I need to hold you to it. I do not care that the rumors have you all but betrothed to Underhill or that you two were alone together last night in Fullbridge’s love nest. That was not our agreement, but I shall let that pass. Yesterday was a…trying day for all, to say the least.”
“There was no agreement, Noah. At least not in the way you mean” Charlotte insisted, some of her old fire returning. “Yes, I kissed you. But only because you urged me to do so in the name of comparison and exploration. And yes, I was foolish enough to agree. But that was not an arrangement or an agreement. I only said that I would think about your proposal. I never agreed to anything.”
Reaching for her, Noah slid his hand down slowly over her hips. His touch felt better than it should, b
ut she realized he was likely counting on that fact to sway her. “Your body said otherwise, love. I listened to it speak to me and it did, indeed, enjoy what I was doing to you. What I could still do for you if you’ll allow me.”
Charlotte slapped Noah’s hand away but he did not appear deterred, his fingers lingering where they ought not to. “My lips were what you should have listened to.”
Noah grinned, but the expression was decidedly less handsome now with his split lip. “I did listen, love. And those lips told me a story of a passionate woman who would be more than my match in bed. I know you want me, Charlotte. Just as I want you.”
He reached out to caress her cheek, but she pulled away with a sharp shake of her head. “No, my lips said that I would think about your offer, and I have. I can’t marry you, Noah, no matter what sort of physical attraction we might share, which I will admit, we do. At least I can’t marry you quite yet. I need to speak with Lord Underhill first. I’ve not heard these rumors you speak of but I can assure you that I am not betrothed. Not to anyone. I also need to speak with Lord Fullbridge as well, for, unfortunately, he does have a large degree of say in this matter. I am a guest in his home after all. I simply need more time.”
Noah’s hand was back on her hip now and Charlotte attempted to move away but he held her fast. “You are out of time, love. You know that. This party ends in two days. Everyone packs up and returns to London after tomorrow night’s grand masked ball. Your father will, of course, be waiting to see if you have captivated me.” His other hand caressed her bare upper arm, which again was far more pleasant than she wanted it to be. Damn Francis for stirring up physical need within her! “And you have, love. You have utterly captivated me. I want you, Charlotte. I desire you. We can do this. Together, we can beget the next Springford heir. Surely you must realize as much.”
“And you must realize that we are in the home of a duke and that I spent the night, alone, with Lord Underhill. This may not be my decision any longer, Noah.” Oh, how she hoped that was not the case – or maybe she did. Charlotte had come to this house party to clear her thinking. Now, she was simply more addlebrained than ever. And this man, with his sweet words and even sweeter caresses was not helping.
“I don’t care.” Noah pulled her closer and Charlotte shoved back with all of her strength in order to put some distance between them, though she was not entirely successful. “It does not matter to me even if he took your innocence. One night in a man’s bed does not make you his wife!” he hissed softly. “It does not matter to me. Don’t you see, Charlotte? I need you as my wife.”
Need, she supposed being the key word. He had repeated that word twice now. “Need me, Noah? I thought you wanted me.”
“Need. Want. What does it matter? It is all the same in the end. I am offering you nothing but unimaginable pleasure in the marriage bed and wealth beyond your imagination out of it. We have a future together, Charlotte. A brilliant one! All you have to do is agree to flee with me tonight and we shall have it!” Gretna. He meant Gretna. While that might have been her choice a sennight ago, it no longer was.
Charlotte shook her head and pulled away once more. “I’m sorry, Noah. I cannot. Not until I speak with Lord Fullbridge and Lord Underhill. Then? I may be free to make a decision.” Except that she was coming to the conclusion that her decision would not be Noah Acton. He might have been all of the things Cilla said, but here, in this hallway, she could see the secrets lurking in his eyes. Charlotte was done with secrets and she would not wed a man who kept them. Not even a man who could bring her the sort of physical pleasure she was coming to believe she craved, even after just one night of experience.
A marriage to Noah might be satisfying in some respects – both in the marital bed and out – but it would not sustain her for very long. In the end, he would always flee to a mistress when he felt the need while she would be left behind. She would always take second place to his pleasure and his desires. That was not the sort of life she wanted, even if it meant risking the wrath of her father.
She could not do this. What had seemed so murky and uncertain only moments ago now became crystal clear in her mind. She was not that sort of woman. She could not agree to this wretched plan and still live with herself. No matter what her father threatened.
Charlotte was also not without allies, either. She had Cilla and likely her brother as well. She had Pearl and Jacob, as well as Miri and Will, along with Aria and Hugh. There were others, too. She could likely even appeal to her old friend Eliza and, of course, her husband, the Bloody Duke, especially since Francis was involved. Alone they might not be a match for her father, but together? Well, they might make a formidable group, one her father would not be so quick to challenge. One that might convince him to allow her the time that Francis needed to sort out whatever it was that troubled him.
Even if that was not possible, she could not marry Noah. She knew she couldn’t.
“You would push me away?” Noah asked, clearly surprised when she tried to turn away from him. “Did yesterday at the ruins mean nothing to you? Did my touch not excite you enough? I rather doubt that, for I felt you tremble in my arms.”
“What was between us was only physical, Noah. Nothing more.” Charlotte pulled her arm free from his grasp and this time, he let her go. That much Cilla had said about Noah was true. He was not a violent man, despite the bruises on his face. “That is not enough for me. I want a husband, not to take second place to a mistress or some back-alley whore when the need arose. I’m sorry. I simply can’t and I won’t change my mind on this.”
She had said that last part slightly more loudly and more forcefully than she had intended but she meant every word. She could not and would not do this. Her mind was made up.
Something of her resolve must have shown on her face, for Noah took a step back into the shadows, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Very well, Charlotte.” He inclined his head. “I’ll not force my attentions where they are not wanted.” He brought his fingertips to his still swollen lip. “I have learned my lesson. Have no fear. However, if you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” Charlotte insisted as forcefully as she dared. “I would rather not wed at all than be a pawn in your uncle’s plans. No matter how pleasurable sharing your bed might be.”
“Still, if you do change your mind, I will be waiting. But I won’t wait forever.” Then Noah slipped back into the darkness, his eyes still glittering with what Charlotte now recognized as desire. That was the same way Francis had looked at her last evening.
There was a part of her that understood he wanted her to chase after him, to tell him she had changed her mind again. Except that she wouldn’t. Her mind was made up now, rather firmly in fact.
Charlotte wished things could have been different between them. She wished she truly had been callous and shallow enough to accept what Noah was offering, but in her heart, she wasn’t. Oh, she had tried to be, but in the end, she could not follow through. She was, as Francis would say “too perfectly good” to be wed to one man and allow another to bed her.
If nothing else, this conversation with Noah had helped Charlotte clear her mind. She wanted Francis. Before she had thought she was alone in her fight but while speaking with Noah, it had dawned on her that she wasn’t. She had friends and her father, while unreasonable, was not an ogre. If someone, oh say, the Bloody Duke perhaps, happened to insist that Charlotte required more time to select a husband, then perhaps he could be convinced.
If he could not? Well, she would rather become a shop girl than be a pawn in a duke’s bed, no matter how attractive she found his nephew.
Now all she had to do was find Francis and confess all.
However, that was easier said than done for Lord Fullbridge’s ballroom was enormous and every single person from the house party, along with some local guests were in attendance. It was one of the biggest crushes Charlotte had ever seen, so big that even the terrace doors had been opened to allow the guests to spill out in
to the night, even though the evening was cooling off rapidly.
She had thought locating Francis would be easy. Cilla had mentioned earlier that he was still hobbling a bit with his cane after the events of yesterday. Though he had been given a clean bill of health by Dr. Longford, the physician had insisted that overexertion could be harmful to Francis’ leg muscles over the coming years. Therefore, Charlotte had assumed that picking one limping man out of a crowd would be easy.
It was not.
It was, however, extremely frustrating.
She also saw no one to talk to, most of the guests in her immediate vicinity being the duke’s local friends rather than his ones from Town. Then Charlotte saw Miss Worth standing along the wall next to a Gray Lady. The poor young woman had been seemingly at a loss since that rather unforgettable morning on the pall mall court. The young woman’s mother also did not socialize much, meaning that her usual chaperone was a hired woman from London to give the girl a bit of respectability.
As Charlotte knew Cassandra, the Marchioness of Berkshire, who ran the Gray Ladies organization now, she knew that having a Gray Lady as a chaperone was perfectly acceptable. The women of London used the service all the time. However here in the country? It did not seem to be the done thing and there were many women openly avoiding Miss Worth as if she had the plague instead of just a hired companion for the evening.
Then again, several people were avoiding Charlotte as well, likely judging her because no announcement about a betrothal between her and Francis had been made yet. Well, there was naught to be done about that, even though just about everyone at the house party had witnessed them ride up the drive together that morning.
A Lady to Desire Page 22
