“Come now, Gabriel,” Mrs. Worthington said, frowning, “do remember your manners.”
“That is quite all right, Mrs. Worthington,” Charlotte said. “I am quite used to Mr. Worthington’s wanting behavior.”
She could see his jaw twitch with anger as he turned to stare out of the window again.
“Let us speak of something less quarrelsome then, yes?” Mrs. Worthington suggested with a strained tone. “We do have quite a long journey to Greyston Hall, and I should hate to see our trip begin so unhappily.”
“Of course, Mrs. Worthington, I—”
“Yes, you are right, Mother,” Gabriel said, interrupting Charlotte, who frowned over at him, “let us speak, then, of Greyston Hall, for I am most anxious to return home at last.”
“Indeed?” Charlotte said, sarcasm lacing her words. “How very foolish of me to assume you were so very happy with my family, you would never wish to leave Brightwood.”
A twisted sense of satisfaction overcame her as Gabriel’s irritated eyes met her gaze.
“If you must know, Miss Rosebury,” he began, “I am happy to leave your home, for I am much happier within the walls of Greyston Hall, though not, of course, when I am forced to provide for a guest’s insatiable needs under my own roof.”
“Gabriel…” his mother warned, but neither he nor Charlotte seemed to hear.
“Yes, I know how treating another with civility is far too much trouble for the great Mr. Worthington,” she said, continuing in anger as guilt flickered in his eyes. “I know why you wished to leave my family, for now you may behave however you wish, no matter the consequences.”
Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he leaned toward her, rage flaring in his eyes. “You are correct, Miss Rosebury. I do enjoy behaving as I wish, and right now, there is nothing more I desire than to be rid of your company.”
“Gabriel!” his mother shouted, but her voice was lost in the sound of Gabriel’s fist rapping upon the carriage roof.
Charlotte watched as he opened the door and, before the wheels had even stopped, leapt out of the carriage, striding directly to his horse tied to the back of it.
“Drive on!” he shouted from outside after a footman closed the carriage door, and only when Gabriel had mounted the great, black stallion and tore away in a mad gallop did Charlotte finally remember she did not sit in the carriage alone.
“Oh, Mrs. Worthington,” she said as they carried on once more down the road, her voice softening, “forgive me. I should not have spoken in such a way.”
Much to Charlotte’s surprise, however, Mrs. Worthington merely smiled. “I understand, my dear,” she said. “I have spoken just as crossly with him more times than I care to admit.”
“Still, I must apologize,” Charlotte said as she shook her head. “I should not have let his words affect me so.”
“My son can be trying at times,” Mrs. Worthington said with a sigh, “but I am certain his mood will improve upon reaching Loxley.”
Charlotte nodded, though she did not share the same optimism.
“Come now,” Mrs. Worthington continued, “it is so very gloomy today, let us see if we cannot brighten the inside of this carriage at least.”
Their conversation continued much lighter than before, but Charlotte’s mind remained on her quarrel with Gabriel, and she could not help but wonder, as they traveled across the seemingly endless countryside, if she would ever experience joy while staying in the home of Gabriel Worthington.
***
After spending a restless night at an inn with an uneven bed and a grating, woolen cover, Charlotte followed Mrs. Worthington down the stairs, further dreading continuing on their journey as she attempted to rub a knot from her lower back, but Mrs. Worthington paused halfway down the steps.
“Oh, I have left my reticule in the room,” she said. “You run along. I shall only be a moment.”
“Very well,” Charlotte said as she made her way down the rest of the stairs and exited the inn before heading toward the carriage.
When she noticed Gabriel standing near the horses, her stomach jostled, and she slowed her approach, hoping Mrs. Worthington would return before Charlotte reached him. Fortune did not favor her, however, so she moved to stand by his side.
“Good morning, Mr. Worthington,” she said with excessive indifference.
He glanced down at her before tipping his hat. “Miss Rosebury.”
“I did not think I would see you for the rest of our journey,” she continued, “what with your petulance yesterday.”
She could see his jaw twitch with irritation, and she fought the urge to smile smugly.
“I am beginning to think you enjoy trying my patience, Miss Rosebury,” Gabriel said before looking over his shoulder. “Where is my mother?”
“She will be here shortly.”
“I do hope so. We are losing time.”
“Oh, we ought to leave now then. We would not want you to fret because of changed plans.”
“Am I to expect such sharp speech from you from this point forward?”
“Why, do you think my words ungenerous?”
Gabriel stared at her unflinchingly. “No,” he said, “I simply wish to prepare myself. Of course, this abrupt behavior will be far easier for me to bear than your usual flirting manner.”
“My flirting?” Charlotte exclaimed, her mouth dropping open. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I have never, nor shall I ever, flirt with such a pompous—”
“I am here, I am here!” Mrs. Worthington called from behind, stopping Charlotte midsentence. “I do apologize for the delay, as I know you do not like to wait, son, but I have found my reticule at last.”
She entered the carriage without a pause, unaware of the tension between the two of them, before Charlotte moved to follow her, pausing only when Gabriel offered her his hand.
“As you have seen, Miss Rosebury,” he said softly, a small, smile upon his lips, “I am perfectly capable of trying your patience as much as you try mine. As such, would it not be wise of us to forget our vexations and forgive one another at last?”
Charlotte eyed his outstretched fingers, and for a moment, she contemplated accepting his offer. However, as she recalled his earlier words, she brushed past his hand and entered the carriage on her own.
Insufferable man, she thought as she sat down, watching him from the window and ignoring her thoughts of being as guilty as he. I shall not waste another thought on him.
Her task proved more difficult than she had imagined, though, for as the day progressed, she had yet to last a single moment without her mind flitting back to the gentleman and his teasing words.
Finally, after many hours of cramped muscles, a grumbling stomach, and a preoccupied mind, Charlotte was relieved when the carriage rolled to a stop and Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.
She happily followed Mrs. Worthington into the inn, sitting down across from her at a small table lit by candles and sconces that lined the walls around them, and she admired the clean, cozy feeling of the building.
When their food was brought out, Charlotte felt her shoulders relaxing even further, for each bite she took tasted more delicious than the last, and she could not help but think of how fine Mrs. Worthington’s company was as they conversed with one another with ease.
“Good evening, Gabriel. Would you care to join us?”
As she heard Mrs. Worthington’s words, Charlotte glanced up to see Gabriel standing near their small table, and her eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
“If I may,” he responded.
“Of course.” Mrs. Worthington motioned to the chair on her left and Charlotte’s right. “That is, if you promise to behave yourself.”
“Me?” Gabriel questioned, however, one look from his mother silenced him, and he nodded his head. “Of course, Mother. I shall be the perfect gentleman.”
“Very good,” she said, smiling subtly at Charlotte before Gabriel seated himself.
Mrs. Worthington spoke the m
ajority of the meal, Charlotte and Gabriel responding with one-word answers, until the woman placed her knife and fork upon her plate and sighed.
“Well,” she said, “somehow I have managed to finish my entire plate before either of you have taken more than a few mouthfuls.”
“I suppose I am not as hungry as I thought,” Charlotte said as she circled the food around her plate.
“Perhaps the present company has something to do with your loss of appetite,” Gabriel muttered.
“That is only half of the truth,” Charlotte responded, looking at him with innocent eyes, “for only one member of our party could cause such an adverse effect upon me.”
“I think I shall enjoy a cup of tea by the fire,” Mrs. Worthington said as she stood from her chair.
“Allow me to join—”
“No, no, Gabriel,” she said, holding her hand up. “You must stay here with Miss Rosebury while she finishes her meal.”
“Why do we not both join you?” Charlotte suggested. “I have eaten quite enough, I assure you.”
“Oh, no, you must eat more,” Mrs. Worthington urged. “I shall be fine alone. You two enjoy yourselves. And, Gabriel…”
She trailed off with a silent stare in his direction before walking away without finishing her thought.
“I do wonder if she truly believes I am the only one at fault for our quarreling,” he said, taking his seat again. “I do wish your own parents were here so I might not be the only one reprimanded.”
He pushed his plate away, and Charlotte moved to retort, but at the mention of her mother, her heart sank, and only then did she recall her parents’ words.
Share your kindness with others, she thought, then your own heart cannot be infected by the bitterness.
She thought back to the words she had shared with Gabriel, the cruelty she had shown him that morning in not accepting his apology, and suddenly, she realized how bitter she had already become, for the frown upon Gabriel’s brow had been caused by her.
You must change, Charlotte, she told herself, before another cruel word is spoken between the two of you.
So, swallowing her pride as best she could, Charlotte turned to Gabriel and said in a soft voice, “Mrs. Worthington has heard my lack of innocence for herself. I am certain she is more comfortable reprimanding her own son than her guest.”
Gabriel eyed her suspiciously before she offered him a small smile.
“You would not feel any better with my parents here, though, I am afraid,” she continued, “for they would never reprimand me.”
“Because you are without fault?”
“Exactly.”
She hid her smile as best she could as Gabriel shook his head.
“It is fortunate I know you tease, Miss Rosebury,” he said, “otherwise I might call you pompous, as well.”
Relief filled Charlotte as the tension around them weakened, her smile growing when his frown lessened, and only then did she lean over her plate to take another bite of her cold food.
“I see your appetite has returned,” he commented above the murmuring chatter and clinking cutlery around them.
“That is because my company has improved.”
“Miss Rosebury,” Gabriel said with a lowered brow, “I know my mother cannot hear you, but that does not give you leave to be cruel and admit pleasure from her departure.”
“You know very well I was not—”
But Gabriel clicked his tongue to interrupt her. “You are not as kind as I once believed you to be, I am afraid.”
Charlotte shook her head, though her tone remained light. “You may feign misunderstanding, Mr. Worthington, but you know I was referring to your improved disposition.”
“May I say the same about your own?”
“You may,” she said, “for I agree.”
Gabriel watched her for a moment before shifting in his chair to face her more directly. “Are we friends again then, Miss Rosebury?” he asked, and she nodded.
“At least until we torment one another again,” she said, “which, I daresay, is sure to happen soon enough.”
She smiled as she perused his handsome face, his cravat still secured under his chin, his dark hair slightly wind-tossed from their day’s journey.
“Have you visited Yorkshire before?” he asked, breaking through the silence, and she blinked mutely before shaking her head.
“No, I have not,” she said. “This will be my first visit to the county.”
“Because you do not like to travel away from home?”
Charlotte tilted her head. “Why would you think that?”
“Merely because leaving Brightwood seemed difficult for you.”
“Oh,” Charlotte said, blushing faintly as she thought of the real reason she did not wish to leave Brightwood. “Well, you are correct in assuming it was difficult to say goodbye to my family, but I believe it healthy to leave one’s home and experience the world beyond.” She paused with a sidelong glance in his direction. “Though, I am certain you do not agree with me.”
“Why would I not?”
She looked at him dubiously. “Mr. Worthington, forgive me, but I find it difficult, indeed, to believe you thought your time at Brightwood beneficial, let alone enjoyable.”
She waited in silence for his reply, and just before she thought he might leave for taking offense at her comment, he finally spoke.
“Despite our argument yesterday, and the words I regret, I did enjoy my time with your family.”
She glanced at him, intent upon laughing at his words, but the sincerity in his blue eyes caused her to pause and listen to him more intently.
“I shared many a fine conversation with your father while riding and shooting together, and your mother and sister were always kind to me. I felt very welcome in your home.”
Charlotte smiled, pleased to hear his kind words before her brow furrowed.
“If I may ask,” she began, “if you did enjoy your time as much as you profess, why did it seem, at times, as if you could hardly wait to leave?”
Charlotte gauged his reaction carefully, but he merely stared down at the food upon his plate.
“I am afraid I do not have an answer for you, Miss Rosebury,” he said.
“Then you cannot make sense of it yourself?”
His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Of course I can, but I cannot…To share such…”
He looked up at her, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat when she noticed the level of vulnerability within his eyes as he continued.
“I felt so comfortable in your home,” he said softly, his eyes still focusing upon her as her heartbeat quickened, “so comfortable with you, that I felt myself losing sight of—”
“I have come to bid goodnight to you both.”
Charlotte tore her gaze away from Gabriel to look up at Mrs. Worthington, and disappointment filled her soul.
“Shall I leave a candle burning for you, Miss Rosebury?” the woman continued.
Charlotte glanced to Gabriel, but his willingness to share had clearly faded away as he stood from the table.
“That will not be necessary, Mother,” he answered in his deep voice, “as I am to retire, as well.”
Mrs. Worthington nodded before leading the way to the rooms of the inn, and Charlotte, remaining only long enough at Gabriel’s side to curtsy, followed Mrs. Worthington with acute disappointment.
Chapter Nine
“We have arrived. Look, just there, Greyston Hall.”
Charlotte glanced out of the window to where Mrs. Worthington motioned, and her breath caught in her throat.
“It is beautiful,” she said before falling into a stunned silence.
Nothing could have prepared her for the broad expanse of the Worthington’s home as it stretched before her to nearly twice the size of Brightwood. Columns across the front of the house stood three stories high, a large, stone staircase curved around from both sides of the main doors, and windows lined the light brown wall
s while reflecting the sunlight peeking through the clouds.
As Charlotte stared at Greyston Hall, she thought once again of Gabriel, her respect for him growing as she imagined him becoming master of such an estate at so young an age.
When her eyes caught sight of him riding his black horse next to them, sitting tall in his saddle, his shoulders broad and straight, she could not help but admire his handsome face and wonder once again what words he might have shared before being interrupted by his mother the evening before.
Her thoughts departed, however, when Gabriel turned to stare at
her through the carriage window, and her heart fluttered. She smiled up at him, but he merely tipped his hat to her before urging his horse forward and disappearing out of sight.
Before long, the coachman pulled the horses to a stop in front of Greyston Hall, and her nerves threatened to overcome her as the house appeared even grander closer up.
The household staff lined up in front of the house according to their stations, and after a few words with the butler, Mr. Harding, Mrs. Worthington led the way through the main doors as Charlotte attempted to overlook the many subtle glances sent in her direction by the staff.
As they entered the home, Charlotte saw large tapestries lining walls in bright colors and a dark brown floor shining brightly beneath them. Mrs. Worthington mentioned her desire to have tea in the parlor, but Charlotte was too distracted with the sights before her to respond with more than a simple nod.
She drank her tea in near silence, for she felt any words she might say would be inconsequential as Mrs. Worthington briefly described the history of the great house, and soon, the two were making their way through more grand hallways and lofty rooms, passing impressive displays of paintings across the walls and red carpeting along the floor, until, at last, they reached the guest room in which Charlotte would stay for the weeks ahead.
“I do hope you will be comfortable here,” Mrs. Worthington said as Charlotte eyed the four-poster bed in the center of the room, a rich purple canopy reaching high to the ceiling.
“I am certain I will be, Mrs. Worthington,” Charlotte said as she eyed the burning fire in the hearth, the large windows, and the towering wardrobe she was certain would hold all of her and Julia’s clothing combined.
To Warm A Wintered Heart (Regency Romance) Page 9
