Of course, he had no real proof that he had ever had a liaison with Charlotte, but Thomas knew that if her aunt and Agnes choose to back up Herbert's story, it could get ugly. After all, Charlotte had been on her way to elope with Herbert that night. If her father or her two cousins heard Herbert's tale, there could be the Devil to pay.
Now Herbert was on the scene again. He had coerced her somehow into seeing him again. If Thomas just waited a little longer, was a bit more patient, he could be sure of the love she claimed she had for him. He could enjoy Charlotte freely, without fear of any shadow upon their future children.
He did not want to think that anything untoward had happened in the carriage that night he had seen them together. If Herbert had tried to force himself upon her, she certainly would have called out for help. As it was, she had jumped out after less than two minutes.
No, far more likely it had just been him blackmailing her. He would get rid of him once and for all, catch Paxton in some sort of criminal act. He just had to bide his time.
If anything had happened between the two of them, well, he would find out soon enough. Just what he would do about it, he had no idea. He was almost afraid to find out first-hand whether Charlotte was as innocent as he hoped.
He would be heart-broken if she was not, he was sure, but what could he do other than love her helplessly, hopelessly, as he always had? Neither of them could make up for the past. What had been done was over with. They could not turn back the clock, relive their past, much as he longed for that ability. If he could, he would go back to January 1812, when Herbert had ripped his life apart, and very nearly ended it.
Thomas sighed. But then, if he could turn back the clock like that, he would never have wed Charlotte. Nor Clifford Stone the lovely Vanessa, and Jonathan would certainly not be happy in his new life as a clergyman. And perhaps a worse fate might have awaited them all than the one the three Rakehell comrades had ended up with.
Life without Charlotte? It had become unthinkable. He needed her like the air he breathed.
But did she need him? He could not force Charlotte to love him. She had said she cared for him, but women lied all the time to get what they wanted...
No, not Charlotte. There was something special between them. He just had to have faith, hold out just a little bit longer. He thought of her smile, her laugh, the weeks they had shared a quiet but deep rapport until Paxton's presence had begun to haunt them once more. He had reappeared like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, blighting all innocence.
There were other reasons for Thomas to leave her to her own devices. He wanted her to come to him. Moreover, he wanted Charlotte to find her own path in life. She had been a daughter. Now she was regulated in her role as a wife. But what did she want for herself?
He was pleased and proud too of the way she chose to spend her time. It would not do her any harm to become comfortable with her own society. And a good education was no bad thing for the woman he hoped would one day become the mother of his children. He discovered her habits from the maid Mary going in and out with sewing and knitting supplies, and the light burning under her door early in the morning and late at night.
He only wished he could spend his time as sensibly, for no matter how hard he worked at his ledgers and other estate duties, he could hardly think of anything except his lovely spouse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
After a few days of hoping, and wondering why Thomas did not come to visit her in her chamber or their private drawing room, Charlotte concluded that he probably loathed the very sight of her. He had never had a very high opinion of her, and after her slap to his cheek, he would most likely never want to have anything to do with her again.
She had behaved badly. She acknowledged it now with the benefit of hindsight. If only she had not been so stubborn...
They met each other in passing in their dressing room or sitting room, and had to speak to each other through the closed portal of the bathroom on occasion, but it was little more than a polite 'how do you do,' and an embarrassed silence and her avoidance of his gaze.
He tried to break the impasse a couple of times, by saying such things as "I miss our little readings," and "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions," but she simply shrugged and glided back to her room and locked the door.
Well, she had come to him once, and how had Thomas treated her? He did not blame her for not wanting to come to him again. Soon it would be time to see if he could mend fences with her. He was fairly sure now she was innocent. Only a few more weeks would allow him to be certain that Herbert, Agnes and her aunt Margaret could not harm them with gossip about that fateful night.
After her pointed leaving of her bloodied linens twice after her withdrawal from society right where he could see them, to prove that she was not with child, she hoped that Thomas would have unbent enough for them to at least be in the same room with each other without resuming their heated argument.
But another two weeks passed without either of them giving in. In the end, Charlotte concluded he had been waiting for her all along. He thought she was still in love with Herbert. But how was she to prove to him that she was not?
After being so long without exercise, with only her own society and that of the maids, she was feeling restless, and eager to see Thomas, spend time with him, despite the fact that she was sure he still did not trust her. She also wished for her mind to be at peace.
She sent a note to Thomas via her maid, asking if he would do her the honor of escorting her to church on Sunday at Jonathan Deveril's parish, and to wait for her while she visited with him and his sister. The return reply was prompt: he would be only too pleased.
Thomas was delighted that she was not pregnant. He was relieved that he had not placed his trust in her for nothing. He was determined to now do his best to remedy that situation, and make up for the neglect and hurt that he had caused her. She was his wife in name. Now she had to become his wife in deed, just as she had asked.
Her time alone had given her ample opportunity for reflection. She knew that some things needed to be brought out in the open. For that she needed some sound practical advice. Who better than a vicar, and one of her husband's dearest friends.
She dressed with care that Sunday, but without any little refinements, wearing only the cross he had given her from his mother's jewels, and her wedding and engagement rings. With a plain bonnet and dark blue dress, she almost looked like a Quakeress. Thomas immediately noticed the marked contrast between her complexion and the gown.
Surely he had not crushed the spirit from her entirely. His stomach lurched. No, he would not think it. It was just too painful. He knew she was not ill, not pregnant. He had seen the linens, hated himself for making her so shamed. Of course, she could have....
No, it was too ridiculous. He would bet any money that Charlotte was honest. That she had not deceived him or given herself to Herbert. He had been a fool. He had blighted his own life with unreasonable suspicions and jealousy. But how to make it up to her?
Charlotte said little on the carriage ride over, merely remarking upon the fine weather, and asking if he were well. She noticed the fine lines which had sprung up around his mouth and upon his brow. If she didn't look her best, she had some small consolation in knowing that neither did he.
"I am well. Sorry that we quarreled, but well-"
"I'm sorry too. But it seems we cannot help ourselves." She sighed heavily and bit her lip to hold back the tears.
He reached for her hand almost timidly. "I would like to try, Charlotte, truly I would."
She shrugged. "Leave it for now. It is best to let the dust settle. Only time will resolve our difficulty. I know you have no real reason to trust me, and I don't have any reason to trust you. That does not mean I'm unwilling to try as well. It only means I see little point at the moment."
"I'm very sorry to hear that."
She took a steadying breath. "This is a muddle of both our makings, Husband. I will own that I saw Herbert Pax
ton. There, I have said his name. I did see him, but I swear to you, it was not by intention or design. I told him I disliked being duped in such a manner, and demanded to leave. I also told him I was never going to see him again.
"I must admit the only reason I spoke with him for more than a moment was that I was curious as to why he never kept our one and only assignation. Why he never tried to deter me from marrying you."
"And what did he say." She shrugged one shoulder. "He was mostly silent upon that point. He merely attempted to assure me that his regard for me is unchanged."
"And yet you don't believe him?" Thomas asked softly.
"I don't care about his feelings one way or the other," she said with an impatient wave of her hand. "His regard may well be unchanged, though I see now it was no more than an interest in a wealthy woman. But even if I ever believed his protestations of love, I am changed, Thomas, and he is nothing more than a silly passing moment of foolishness, but not one I would ever care to repeat."
"Oh?" he said, quirking one brow.
"Of course not," she said firmly, shaking her head. "For one thing, I am a married woman now. I do not take my vows lightly. Adultery is a most heinous offence in the eyes of God and man, and lust a deadly sin. I told him this, but he seemed not to care. But I care. I care very much."
Thomas gave her a relieved smile. "I'm glad. I do too. I would never--"
She nodded at once. "I know, Husband. You don't need to tell me. But please, let me confess all, just as St. Augustine did."
"I'm sorry. Pray continue," he urged.
"My aunt contrived a second meeting, and Agnes a first and third, just as you had feared. You and Father were right about both of them not being true friends to me. I've made it clear to them that I have no wish to see him, or them. I can't believe I was so deceived in the three people I trusted so implicitly when they protested that they loved me." She bit her lip, struggling to hold back her tears.
He stroked her upper arm tenderly. "I'm sorry you had to learn this bitter lesson at such a tender age."
"So am I. But better that than harder ones which could never been undone." She cleared her throat uncomfortably and pressed on.
"Thomas, I know I've behaved foolishly, like a green girl at her first ball. The only way I can convince you that I'm telling the truth is to wait until such time as you can be absolutely certain that I'm not carrying his child. That I have not given myself to another. That I will not give myself to anyone else but you, my lawful husband in the eyes of God and man. And that I have no intention of giving myself to anyone else as soon as I have lost my maidenhood, the way you have accused me."
He had the grace to look shamefaced at the terrible accusation. "Charlotte, I'm so sorry--"
She ignored his attempt to apologise. "As for my socialising, I find it has lost its luster. I have everything I want in our home, save one. Or perhaps two." She gave a wistful little smile.
"And they would be what, exactly?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.
"A warm and loving husband, and children with him."
He looked at her hand gently. "Neither of those things are impossible. It's just that I-"
"I know. It's a big step."
He nodded. "Yet a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If you take my hand we can travel together." He held his out to her, and she pressed it to her heart.
The gesture was too much for him, and before he could stop himself he was kissing her cheeks, eyelids, and neck. She returned his ardent caresses with an urgency of her own which reminded them both of the very first time they had ever been in a carriage alone together.
The memory was enough to set them both off, though he held her hands against his neck so that she couldn't start shredding his clothes as she had done that first night. He kissed her until her lips throbbed and her whole body trembled.
"Oh, Thomas--"
"Soon, my darling, soon."
"Perhaps we should go home and--"
"Nay, pet. Just kiss me, let me love you a bit before we have to go out to face the world once more."
"Yes, yes, please," she whispered breathlessly.
His hands traveled over her breasts, hips, up and down the length of her legs, and finally, to the soft mound in the lap of her dress. She shivered and quivered in his arms, and cried out against his hot mouth as the prickling sensations in her belly and back became wild ripples of desire.
"Thomas, what are you--"
"The same as you are to me," he panted, feeling himself on the knife edge of release. "It's the pinnacle of pleasure, a complete loss of control. Let yourself go, darling. It's all perfectly natural. And there's no need to be afraid."
"I want you so."
"I know. Soon. Just enjoy this," he said, rubbing even harder upon her secret pearl, tunneling his fingers deeper to caress her even more intimately.
Her self-control shattered and she sprawled against his chest and lay limp with torrid release. He kissed her deeply, as if trying to touch her very soul.
He only relinquished his caressing hold upon her when they arrived at the church. There they broke apart in consternation and were relieved they had pulled the shutters down.
"We shall continue this later, my dear," he promised in a thrilling undertone which held all sorts of unspoken longings.
She was shaking so badly, she couldn't even imagine what more there would be. Except that she had been fully clothed...
An image of appearing naked in front of Thomas's burning green eyes told her exactly what she had to look forward to. Her nipples peaked eagerly against her chemise and the pulse deep within her loins throbbed. She could hardly wait...
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Charlotte's heart soared. Thomas had kissed her passionately for the first time in weeks. He had also touched her more passionately than he ever had before. Things would be all right between them once she was able to leap a few more hurdles, she was sure of it.
She felt warm and glowing inside, with a curious lambent moistness between her thighs and trembling in her belly which made her just want to press herself full length against him and never let him go.
When Thomas helped her down from the carriage, she had all to do not to launch herself into his arms again, but had to settle for smoothing down his most disheveled cravat.
Thomas could not believe how happy he was. He felt as though he were soaring with the clouds as he helped his wife down. Charlotte had come to him. Told her she loved him. All his patience had won out in the end. Won him a wife of whom he could be justly proud. And one he would worship with his soul and body for the rest of their lives with the most eager attention imaginable, he thought with an inward smile, recalling her heated response to his intimate caresses only moments before.
He shifted in the pew from buttock to buttock to try to ease the ache in his loins, and stole peeps at Charlotte's face every so often, taking in her flushed cheeks and parted lips.
"Soon, darling, soon," he whispered when she leaned close to share her prayer book with him. He knew it was wicked to lust after her so in a house of God, but he had been so restrained for so long...
Jonathan's sermon seemed interminable to the couple now that the floodgates of passion and conversation had once more been opened between them. At last they found themselves ensconced at the vicarage with soothing cups of hot tea.
"You will stay to dinner, of course," Sarah Deveril invited.
"Oh, we wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. It is I who should be offering you hospitality. What about the inn down the road?" Thomas offered.
Jonathan refused firmly. "Another time. You're here and comfortable, and here you shall stay, right, Sister?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Er, I was wondering if I could prevail upon Jonathan for a private conversation?" Charlotte requested in a timid tone.
The sandy-haired vicar looked surprised, but nodded. "Please, come into my study."
Once she was settled in a chair, h
e asked, "So, what is it you wished to speak with me about?"
"I have something I need to confess. Not because you're Thomas's friend and I think you'll tell him, but for my own peace of mind."
Jonathan gave a gentle smile. "He may be my friend, but your confession is for God alone, Charlotte."
"Thank you." She tried to get her tumultuous thoughts in order, pressing her hand against her temple. "I love Thomas, body and soul. I just don't know what to do about it."
He quirked one brow. "Forgive me, but am I the correct person that you should be making this revelation to? There is Thomas, for one. Or, if it's a more personal matter, my sister. Or Vanessa, seeing she's a married woman herself."
"No, it has to be you. Has Thomas ever spoken of the reason we were married so precipitately?"
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 59
