To Warm A Wintered Heart (Regency Romance)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Mrs. Worthington has been as wonderful as ever in assuring I feel welcome in their home. She has planned our day for York thoroughly and particularly for my enjoyment. We leave early tomorrow to spend a full day exploring the city, attending the theater, and visiting shops.

  Mr. Worthington has agreed to join with us, and I am most pleased, for I cannot remember when he was last disagreeable. One can only hope he has grown to enjoy my company as much as I have his.

  “Your letter must be very entertaining, indeed, to have not heard my words.”

  Mrs. Worthington’s voice broke through Charlotte’s thoughts, and she looked up in surprise.

  “I do apologize,” she said. “Were you speaking to me?”

  Mrs. Worthington nodded. “I was merely making mention of the fox hunt at the end of this month.”

  Charlotte attempted to shift her mind away from writing her letter as the woman continued.

  “I do hope the weather will be agreeable, though. It is so dreadful sitting upon a horse in the middle of the pouring rain.”

  Charlotte tilted her head in surprise. “You participate in the hunt, Mrs. Worthington?” she asked.

  Her eyes caught sight of Gabriel lowering his book with an amused smile upon his lips.

  “Indeed,” he said, “Mother joins the gentlemen to ride upon a horse through thickets and mud, gun in hand as she attempts to capture the animal before all others.”

  Charlotte felt her blush beginning at the tips of her ears.

  “As I have never attended a fox hunt before, Mr. Worthington, I am afraid I could not have assumed anything else,” she said, speaking coolly to hide her embarrassment, “especially with entering in during the middle of the conversation.”

  “You are quite right, my dear,” Mrs. Worthington said before giving her son a stern look. “Leave her be, Gabriel.”

  “I was only teasing, Miss Rosebury,” he said with a smile, but Charlotte avoided his gaze.

  “Traditionally,” Mrs. Worthington explained, “the women ride out with the gentlemen before the hunt begins.”

  Charlotte’s face turned ashen. “I see,” she said softly.

  “Why, Miss Rosebury,” Mrs. Worthington said, “are you quite all right? Please, do not allow my son’s words to embarrass you. Having no experience with a hunt before, you would clearly assume…”

  But her words trailed off as Charlotte shook her head.

  “No, it is not that,” Charlotte said, eying the door as she planned her escape.

  “Then what is it, my dear?” Mrs. Worthington pressed. “You look rather pale.”

  “Well,” Charlotte began, sending a cautious glance to Gabriel’s observant eyes before continuing, “I hope you do not mind, but I think I shall…I shall stay at Greyston when the women ride out, that is all.”

  “Whatever for?” Mrs. Worthington asked. “You are most welcome, after all. Is it simply the whole feel of the fox hunt that makes you hesitant? It can be barbaric, but we do not allow so many hounds, and the animal is caught and dealt with, indeed, very honorably.”

  Charlotte shook her head again. You must tell them, she thought. It is not so bad.

  “Perhaps you fear catching a cold sitting out of doors?” Mrs. Worthington continued, “but you will certainly be dressed warm enough.”

  “Would you mind telling us, Miss Rosebury,” Gabriel piped in, “before we are kept here until nightfall with my mother’s guessing?”

  Charlotte frowned. “I am afraid I cannot, rather, do not, ride horses.”

  “You mean you have never been taught?” Gabriel asked.

  “Of course I have,” she said indignantly. “My father taught me when I was a child, however, I did not enjoy it, so I stopped.”

  “And why did you not enjoy it?” Gabriel asked with narrowed eyes.

  “I did not care for it.”

  “I have never come across a person who does not like to ride without a strong reason behind it,” he said.

  “Well,” Charlotte said with a raised chin, “now you have.”

  Gabriel frowned. “Perhaps the lessons did not suit you.”

  “My father taught me fine, thank you.”

  “I have no doubt in Mr. Rosebury’s ability to teach proficiently. I am simply attempting to decipher why you do not take pleasure in something so enjoyable.”

  “There is no point in bombarding her with questions, Gabriel,” Mrs. Worthington said, “for there is a simple solution. You must teach Miss Rosebury to enjoy the activity. I assure you, my dear,” she said, looking to Charlotte, whose eyes widened, “if there is one gentleman who could change your opinion of riding, he would be my son.”

  “That will not be necessary, thank you,” Charlotte said.

  “Are you frightened, Miss Rosebury,” Gabriel began, “to think I might be clever enough to instruct you in some small regard?”

  Charlotte could see the teasing light in his blue eyes, but her insecurities prevented her from smiling.

  “I am not afraid.”

  “Then will you allow me the chance to convince you of the joys of riding?”

  “I have tried everything,” she said. “Nothing shall ever alter my opinion.”

  “Do act sensibly, Miss Rosebury.”

  “I might say the same to you, Mr. Worthington,” she began, her pride bristling. “Is it sensible for you to accuse another of behaving irrationally simply because one does not agree with your opinion?”

  A frown Charlotte had not seen for days formed across Gabriel’s brow. “I shall teach you to ride,” he said, his voice commanding, “and that is final.”

  “No,” she said, “I do not accept your offer.”

  “Why do we not speak of our plans for tomorrow?” Mrs. Worthington suggested, but Gabriel had already stood and stormed toward the door as Charlotte retrieved her pen and leaned over her letter to Julia once again.

  I do wonder when I shall cease to expect Mr. Worthington to behave like the gentleman he ought to be. Tell me, Julia, how shall I even handle a single day more spent in his wretched company?

  ***

  Charlotte awoke the next morning with renewed determination to enjoy her day in York, no matter the anger she still felt toward Gabriel, and after a strained carriage ride and Gabriel departing to see to his business, Charlotte finally relaxed.

  She and Mrs. Worthington began their sightseeing at York Minster, and Charlotte marveled at the sight, craning her neck back in order to view the light-colored edifice in its entirety, intricate designs curving around the cathedral’s colorful, stained glass windows like delicate, stone branches.

  After their tour of the cathedral, the two made their way to the city’s oldest street, where the shops nearly reached in the middle above the cobblestone road.

  They eyed the imported fabrics, colorful bonnets, and handmade shawls filling the windows, and they entered nearly every shop wherein they found something of interest.

  At one point, upon Mrs. Worthington’s insistence, Charlotte was measured for two new dresses, one made of Pomona green, the other of a soft lavender and trimmed with a delicate, white lace.

  “The green should make your beautiful eyes shine brighter than they already do,” the woman said with admiration as she purchased both of them.

  “You are too kind, Mrs. Worthington,” Charlotte said, “but I must protest, for I have brought more than enough—”

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Worthington said with a smile. “Having only sons, I was only ever allowed to purchase top hats and cravats. It is a joy to dote upon a woman other than myself.”

  After further purchases of new parasols, gloves, shawls, and ribbons, and deciding to end their shopping before buying the whole of York, the women handed their packages to the footmen and walked toward the theater along the wall surrounding the city.

  They huddled close together as the cold wind blew over the stone wall, causing their noses to redden as they crossed the river and viewed the green hills beyond the small homes of
York.

  Charlotte could not help but smile as she and Mrs. Worthington conversed easily with one another, but when they neared the theater, her pleasant mood faded away, for there stood Gabriel outside of the building, his gaze upon her as he tipped his hat in greeting.

  “How was your morning?” he asked, his eyes moving to his mother.

  “Oh, it was splendid,” Mrs. Worthington responded, “but let us speak more when we are in the warmth of the theater, yes?”

  Charlotte followed Mrs. Worthington, and though she could feel Gabriel’s eyes upon her, she passed by without so much as a glance in his direction.

  They made their way to the middle row of their semi-private box, and Mrs. Worthington entered first to sit by an older couple, with whom she immediately conversed.

  Gabriel followed his mother down the row, leaving Charlotte to pause in the center of the small aisle, her lips pulling into a frown as she realized she had no other choice but to sit next to him.

  Would it be so very obvious if I chose a seat behind him? she wondered, staring longingly at the filled seats in the back row.

  “Miss Rosebury?”

  Charlotte looked to Gabriel before following his line of sight to where a procession of people with irritated faces stood behind her.

  “Oh, forgive me,” she said, sitting down and attempting to hide her reddened face as the people filed past her.

  “Is the thought of sitting next to me so repulsive you would rather stand for the duration of the play?”

  Charlotte glanced to ensure Mrs. Worthington still conversed with the couple next to her before staring pointedly at Gabriel.

  “No,” she said, “but I was contemplating sitting elsewhere.”

  “Would I be correct in assuming you have some sort of vexation with me?” Gabriel asked. “Tell me, what troubles you?”

  Charlotte looked down at the program in her hands. “I simply did not wish to hear any more of your impudence.”

  “I shall do my best, then, to keep from speaking with you.”

  “I would appreciate the sacrifice.”

  “Very well,” Gabriel said, “however, I think it only fair if, as payment for my silence, you allow me the opportunity to help you learn to enjoy riding.”

  Charlotte frowned. “No, thank you.”

  “Then I am afraid I cannot guarantee my silence this evening,” he said, his jacket grazing against her bare arm as he shrugged, her heart fluttering at his touch.

  “Well, I would much rather endure a few hours seated next to your insufferable chatter than spend days with your condescension.”

  “My, my,” he said with raised brows, “you are in quite a mood this evening.”

  She grasped the program tighter between her fingers. “I have my reasons.”

  “And what reasons are they?”

  Charlotte bit her lip to prevent her words, but Gabriel’s constant stare broke her resolve.

  “If you must know,” she began, “my behavior is due to your attempts to force me to concede to your will yesterday, as if I were a child.”

  “Perhaps if you did not behave as a child, I would not feel the need to treat you as one.”

  Charlotte watched as a smile spread across Gabriel’s lips, and she recalled the day so many weeks before when she had said the very same to him, and she could no longer keep a hold of her anger.

  “You have made your point, Mr. Worthington,” she said. “Only promise me you will not glory in your triumph for too long.”

  She glanced over, the smile upon his face warming her heart even further.

  “I shall not even mention it,” he said. “Does this mean, though, I am allowed to speak with you once again?”

  “I suppose so,” Charlotte replied with a small smile upon her lips.

  The sounds from the stage below reached her ears then, and they both faced forward as the play began. The performance easily compared to the likes Charlotte had seen in Bath and London, with bright lighting, towering box seats, and brightly colored curtains and wall paintings.

  She leaned slightly forward in her seat as she watched the first half of the Shakespeare play, and though she had seen it performed many times before, the actors, scenery, and words brought the story alive, and she laughed along with the audience until the intermission.

  After having had the opportunity to speak cordially with Mrs. Worthington and Gabriel, Charlotte found refocusing her attention upon the play to be difficult, and she could not help but long for the performance to end so she might enjoy further conversation with the both of them.

  As her patience wore thin, she struggled to find ways to occupy her time, and after looking for face shapes in the paisley curtains, slipping her feet in and out of her slippers, and folding and refolding her program until it became a crinkled mess in her lap, Charlotte only became more anxious.

  However, when Gabriel leaned in close to her, his shoulder pressing against her own, she felt a new sort of anxiousness, an anxiousness that caused her heart to flutter at the feel of his breath upon her ear.

  “I do enjoy this comedy,” he whispered, and Charlotte looked up at him.

  “Indeed,” she replied in a whisper of her own, “it is my favorite comedy of his.”

  “I thought you did not have a favorite of his plays?”

  Charlotte paused. “Well, this is one of my favorites.”

  They shared a smile.

  “If you enjoy it so greatly, why do you appear so uninterested?”

  “Do I? How so?”

  Gabriel glanced with an amused expression to the program crinkled in her lap. “You have not been able to remain still since the intermission.”

  “I suppose I am a little distracted.”

  “As am I.”

  She glanced up at him, but his gaze was still focused upon the actors, and they sat in silence for another moment before Gabriel leaned in again.

  “If you are anxious for the play to end, I am certain falling asleep would help pass the time,” he said, “as I am certain you remember from Sunday. Do you think we would be discovered, though?”

  “Oh, no doubt,” she said, her grin widening. “Though, if one agrees to keep a ready eye open while the other sleeps, we may not be.”

  Gabriel smiled. “You are quite clever, Miss Rosebury,” he said, and her heart fluttered before he leaned back in his chair. “Now, I think I should like to rest first.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Worthington,” she whispered, nudging his shoulder with her own. “Should I not be given the first opportunity to sleep, as it was I who suggested the proposal?”

  Gabriel opened one eye before leaning forward.

  “Very well,” he said. “I shall wake you in a little while.”

  Charlotte nodded, but she closed her eyes for only a moment before opening them once again.

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked when she sighed.

  “I fear I am not tired.”

  “Then why did you insist upon sleeping first?”

  “It is the principle, Mr. Worthington. I—”

  “Excuse me, Miss,” came a gentleman’s voice from behind her as he tapped upon her shoulder, “would you, please, quiet down? We cannot hear a word above your chattering.”

  Charlotte’s face burned red in an instant.

  “I do apologize,” she whispered with humiliation, sinking low in her seat.

  She turned her head to see Gabriel grinning from ear to ear.

  “Shameful, Miss Rosebury,” he whispered, their heads so close they nearly touched before he pulled back and shook his head with feigned disappointment.

  Despite the humiliation threatening to swallow her whole, she could not help but smile.

  When the play finally ended, Charlotte was relieved to be allowed to speak once more, and their pleasant conversation continued well after their warm meal when the three of them began their return journey to Greyston Hall.

  Before long, the night sky grew darker, and twinkling stars began to appear as
the voices in the carriage grew silent.

  Charlotte rested her head against the cushioned wall of the carriage and quickly fell asleep, but a warm, soft pressure upon her knee caused her eyelids to open soon after, and she peered through her lashes into the darkness.

  Across from her, the Worthingtons both slept soundly, but it was Gabriel’s knee that rested next to hers, and she smiled before drifting back into a peaceful slumber.

  After ensuring Charlotte had once more fallen asleep, Gabriel opened his eyes to see her knee still touching his own, and his heart quickened. His gaze returned to the beautiful woman, the light of the moon shining upon her dark eyelashes and soft ringlets, her head slightly tilted to one side, and he wondered at his lack of resolve.

  Are you not meant to resent the woman, Gabriel? he asked himself, but as he viewed her peaceful expression, he knew he could never resent her, though her friendship had caused him to rethink his promise of remaining unmarried forever.

  As the carriage jostled, Charlotte sighed in her sleep, their knees pulling apart before drawing closer than before, and Gabriel’s heart quickened again.

  You know Miss Rosebury has already begun to thaw your heart, he told himself, and you know what must be done to harden it once again.

  However, as much as he imagined himself ready and willing to do anything to keep true to his promise, Gabriel knew deep within his softening heart, the last thing he wished to do was part with Miss Charlotte Rosebury.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following morning, Charlotte sat in the parlor with her stitching as she awaited Mrs. Worthington’s arrival. However, when she looked up at the sound of footsteps nearing the room, she was surprised to see Gabriel appear before her.

  “Mr. Worthington,” she said, placing her stitching beside her as she stood, “good morning.”

  “Miss Rosebury,” he said with a small bow, “my mother has business with our housekeeper this morning, so she wished for me to keep you company.”

  “Wonderful,” she said with a smile. “Would you care to sit?”

  Gabriel stared at the empty seat she motioned to before his gaze focused upon the window behind her.