To Bed or to Wed

by Sandra Sookoo

  “Our families are hoping for an announcement soon,” Alexandra said in a whisper as if she confided a secret. “They are well-matched. The wedding will be the social event of the Season.”

  “Then I apologize for detaining you.” Charlotte dropped into an awkward curtsey. “I thank you both for your hospitality, but if the roads are clear for immediate travel, I believe I shall leave for London as soon as the arrangements can be made. If I don’t manage to find Jamie before I depart, please convey my regards to him.”

  “Charlotte, wait.” When he reached for her, Alexandra grabbed his hand. “Botheration, woman, let go! I wish to explain. She’ll think the worst of me.” His sister wouldn’t be persuaded though he shook his arm.

  “It’s for the best. She is not for you.” She glanced at Charlotte’s retreating form. “After all, what sort of woman doesn’t fight for a man she’s interested in? Perhaps she was merely trifling with your affections, brother dear. Good thing I came along when I did.”

  Nathan had no answer. “Perhaps.” He had no idea, and now he’d never find out. Despite his earlier hopefulness, he hardened his heart. Women, in general, were a pain in the arse.

  Chapter Five

  February 2, 1815 London, England

  Charlotte flounced into her bedroom just after a footman brought her trunk and valise up from the carriage. Two days ago, when she’d declared her intention of leaving Ravenhurst Manor, a snow squall had blown through as she’d been packing. The unexpected precipitation had delayed her return, but once the roads became more or less passable, Ravenhurst himself had sent one of his carriages to convey her home, complete with two footmen and a driver who looked more suited to fisticuffs than handling livestock. When she’d inquired of the feasibility of the man as a driver, the marquess had murmured something about the proper defense against road brigands then had walked away.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as the footman made his exit. Once she was alone, she gently closed her door and leaned against it with a shuddering sigh. Her mind refused to forget the last time she’d been with Nathan before he callously saw her off. The conversation they’d shared in nature’s sanctuary had been as sweet as the tender kiss he’d given her. For a few moments, she’d honestly thought he would declare his intention of wanting to court her. He’d had that certain look in his eye—the one she’d seen in other suitors—but he hadn’t said a word regarding such a thing. She’d been on the verge of renouncing her intention to never wed if only to see where an alliance with him would lead.

  Then, when his sister had hinted about a possible link with Lady Sophia, her heart had felt as if it had been ripped from her body by a wild beast. Even now, as she tried to breathe in a normal manner, her chest ached. I detest being made to play the fool. Charlotte wandered over to her bed and collapsed upon it. She buried her face in the mound of pillows. The Brussels lace edging on the slips caressed her cheek but only served to remind her of how his glove against her skin had felt. A sob attempted to escape her throat, but she stifled it. He hadn’t seemed a rake, didn’t act all that knowledgeable of how to win or woo women. If anything, he’d given off a rather anxious air as if he’d felt uncomfortable in how to proceed with her. The slight reticence had been endearing and made her want to encourage him all the more.

  In those fleeting moments, when the air was clear and crisp, and the silence of the woodland surrounded them, she’d thought he could have been the man to win her heart, despite the rumors she’d heard about him. Nathan Ravenhurst had substance and mettle. He wouldn’t succumb to the drudgery of domestic life. He’d still be stubborn and arrogant, fit and imposing regardless of leg-shackling or setting up a nursery. He wouldn’t lose his edge or mystery or passion. He’s different.

  Blast. Perhaps she should retire to the Brighton property and be away from the noise and bustle of Town and everything being in the capitol entailed. The seaside location should be nearly deserted this time of year. Besides, her brother Oliver would soon return to England. If nothing else, she could live with him, look after him for a time.

  A soft knock sounded on her door, and before she could bid the intruder enter, the door swung open. Her mother came into the room, scattering the last of Charlotte’s thoughts.

  “I thought I heard you return. Much earlier than you were expected, I might say.” Censure hung in Roberta’s voice. “Was there a problem?”

  Charlotte sighed. “Here I assumed you’d be pleased I came back early.” She righted herself on the bed then arranged her skirts properly over her legs. If she didn’t, her mother would lecture on the correct deportment of a lady. One would think that after a certain point in a person’s life, the lectures would stop on principle.

  “I am, but now I wish to understand why. What happened? Did you find the crowd was too young and obnoxious? I could have told you so. That Jamie can be a rather arrogant individual. Takes after his uncle, no doubt.” Roberta settled onto a settee of crushed, pink velvet with her back ramrod straight. “Did anything untoward occur?”

  “No, Mother. Everything was lovely. I just grew bored with the company.” There was no sense regaling her parent about what she’d done. The incident in Nathan’s study would bring hours of reprimands and histrionics, and depending on what sort of mood her brother was in if he caught wind, there’d be no end of drama. He might possibly wish to call the marquess out. That wouldn’t be good for anyone in the situation. “Now, here I am, ready to, once more, be your lapdog and entice eligible men with my charms.” The task was even more unsavory than it had been before she’d gone to Ravenhurst’s estate. She wanted to gag on the words. “Except, I’m not really in the mood for flirting.”

  Her mother’s lips thinned. “You don’t sound happy to be back with your loving mother or even here in civilization.”

  “Why should I be when all you’re concerned about is my making a good match?” Charlotte pleated a section of skirting, released it then pleated it again.

  “This is the way of things, my girl. We’re invited to a rout this evening. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful impression. You always do.” Roberta patted a tendril of hair back into its updo. “Do you want help choosing an outfit? I’m thinking the pearl and diamond earbobs will be a nice addition. The ones that match the choker.”

  Who wanted to talk jewelry at a time like this? “I don’t want to go.” She couldn’t help the sullen tone in her voice. “I’m tired from my travels.” And the effort it took to not cry about the ridiculousness of life.

  Roberta buffed the nails of one hand on her gray skirts. “Did you meet anyone of consequence while you were away? You sound unsatisfied with your life here.”

  “I’m not unsatisfied, Mother, just introspective at the moment.” She chewed her bottom lip. If anyone would have information or on-dits about London and its residents, it was her mother. “I did run into Lord Ravenhurst while in the country. I suppose it would have been only logical since it was his estate.”

  “Oh?” Cautious interest warmed her mother’s voice.

  “Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “In the short time I spent with him I thought he was pleasant enough but quite formidable. A tad on the cantankerous side. Angry, if I’m completely honest.” Though she still didn’t know why that would be. She lifted her gaze to her mother’s. “Before you force me into his arms, it will do no good. There is talk he’s taken. And besides, I rather doubt we’d suit anyway.” If they would have, he wouldn’t have treated her as a play thing fully knowing he belonged to another. “I suspect two strong personalities won’t rub along well together.”

  “Oh, he is spoken for. The gossip mongers say he’s been promised to the Duke of Amherst’s daughter.”

  “Ah, so that is who the mysterious Lady Sophia is.” Charlotte straightened her spine and sat bolt upright. “Does the marquess know what a twat the duke is?”

  “Charlotte Michelle! That is gutter talk and I won’t have it from a daughter of mine.” Iron crackled through Roberta’s voice. Twin s
pots of color blazed on her mother’s cheeks.

  “I apologize.” Charlotte stood in order to pace between her bed and the window. “The duke treated Clarice horribly, and with no manners not two months ago. Surely that news got ‘round. A man with any sense would beg off for such a thing.”

  Her mother shrugged. “Even if the news did become public knowledge, I highly doubt Ravenhurst took notice. If was merely a tiny ripple in the waters of Society. Matches these days are arranged with little to no love between parties. They’re business contacts, positions on social ladders. Nothing more. Gossip won’t destroy such relationships.”

  “I know this, but it’s terrible. Marriage should have at least some affection in it.” She turned and glanced at her mother. “Did you love Father?”

  “Not at first.” Roberta stood. She shook the wrinkles from her skirt. “He wanted more from life: to travel, to see the world, perhaps a few dalliances, but his title wouldn’t allow it since his father died unexpectedly.” A smile curved her lips. “After he and I were thrown together in years of friendship, then later, the marriage bed, love eventually grew.” Her hazel eyes twinkled. “I gazed at him over tea one afternoon. I was enceinte with you. Nurse had taken Felix to the nursery for his nap. Your father looked at me and grinned in a special way he had. In that moment, I realized I loved him and had for some time. The feeling had snuck up on me. Of course, I told him straightaway and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “It took so long in your marriage to find that out?” Charlotte’s chest ached from the knowledge. She’d not been conceived from love, merely duty. How… disappointing and somewhat distasteful. She’d expected more from her parents, but then, they’d only been mere mortals, with flaws like anyone else.

  “Trust me when I say it was a different time. Men are different now, more suited to domestic life, more willing to wed or at least do their duty with some semblance of enthusiasm. It helps there is more cause for socializing in this day and age. People are more apt to have already met and interacted with each other before contracts are drawn. If not love, marriages now have familiarity behind them. Plus, young people are so eager to tumble between the sheets prior to marriage.”

  “Mother, bite your tongue. Not all of us have succumbed to temptation, and still hope…”

  Roberta narrowed her gaze. “I suppose I should talk to you about what occurs in the marriage bed, but since the years have gone by and you’ve not gotten anywhere close to a proposal—”

  “God, please stop.” She waved a hand. It didn’t matter. The fact she’d very nearly done just that with Nathan in his study need not come to her mother’s attention. “Never mind about it. I haven’t lived this long without figuring at least some of it out. The maids like to whisper and my girlfriends are all too happy to share stories of their husbands’ skill or lack thereof.”

  “There’s a grain of truth in all of that.” Roberta moved to the door with a grin on her lips. “Let me know if you require my assistance in your preparations for the evening, my dear. You really do need to make the rounds again. It’s time to start the remainder of your life. Tell your maid to press the purple silk.”

  “Very well, though I’d rather wear blue.” It certainly wasn’t due to the marquess’ comment that the color suited her eyes. Her mother left, but Charlotte knew one thing: she didn’t want such coolness and ambiguity in her life if she did decide to marry. It would be for mutual respect and love, or not at all. Strangers should not become bedmates regardless of how they made a woman’s heart tremble with a mere glance.

  “Just look at her. She’s scandalous,” Charlotte muttered to her mother later that night as they watched Nathan and Lady Sophia. The woman hadn’t left his side the whole of the evening. “Her bodice is too low for such an event, and if she doesn’t stop brushing her chest against his arm, she might run the risk of her breasts spilling right out of it,” she whispered behind her fan. Diamond combs sparkled from Lady Sophia’s black hair. Her gown of rose silk had golden thread shot through it that sparkled every time she moved. Only her braying laugh soured the image of the fairy queen she might have hoped for. “I suppose he’ll be obligated to offer for her just from standing there sipping punch at the rate they’re touching.” She couldn’t keep the jealousy from her voice.

  “My, my, you’re in rare form tonight, my girl,” Roberta whispered back from behind her hand. She half-turned away from that side of the ballroom. “Hush now. Someone might overhear you. Such waspish behavior isn’t becoming.”

  “I don’t much care, Mother.” Yet Charlotte sighed. Ravenhurst was as handsome and brooding as he’d ever been. In the dark evening clothes and with his jacket tightly hugging his shoulders like a lover’s caress, he was easily one of the more striking men at the gathering. His expression was quite foreboding, though, as if he wished to be anywhere except the rout with Lady Sophia. That gave Charlotte a modicum of comfort. “Until he comes up to scratch, Lady Sophia should know she has no right to him.” And she should stop monopolizing his time.

  Not that he’d even want to escort me out for a dance. He’d not even looked her way. A handful of kisses and a heady moment in a study didn’t give her a claim either, but it was something.

  Her breath caught as Lady Sophia finally left his side. She sailed through the crush with a few friends trailing after her. They disappeared through a side door. Would he notice her—Charlotte—now? She stifled a groan when he didn’t. Instead, he merely strode toward a cluster of other men, who immediately engaged him in conversation.

  “Damn and blast,” she uttered under her breath.

  “Charlotte, I won’t tell you again,” her mother warned and pinned her with a glare. “Such language is not proper for ladies and especially not in a public place. People will surely talk if they hear you.”

  A slow smile curved Charlotte’s lips. “Well, if you are quite confident they’ll talk anyway, perhaps I should give them enough kindling to invent wild gossip.” It was madness to even contemplate. She’d never done anything as daring as this in her life. It was something heroines in the books she read would do.

  Before her mother could protest or even restrain her, Charlotte marched boldly through the crowd until she reached Nathan’s group. With a trembling hand, she tapped his arm, and when he looked at her over his shoulder, she asked, “My lord, would you care to dance this next set with me?” She might ruin her chances of marriage with anyone, but if Nathan accepted, the scandal would be more than worth it, especially if it took his mind off Lady Sophia. And Lord help her, as the first strains of music reached her ears, she realized it would be a waltz. Mother will surely lock me up. But it was thrilling and freeing, in a way, to do something so scandalous.

  The group of people—men and women alike—around the marquess gasped as if they were intent on sucking the air from the room. Some of the more vulgar gentlemen called for wagers to be placed on whether Nathan would accept Charlotte’s offer, and if he did, more wagers were sworn on what would happen next. She ignored them all. The only person who mattered in that one moment was Ravenhurst. “Well?” Her stomach fluttered as madly as her pulse.

  He turned fully toward her, and though he didn’t smile and his expression didn’t soften, his glorious hazel eyes—more green than brown in the candlelight—glittered. Yes, she had engaged his attention or perhaps his curiosity, but would he accept? “I don’t suppose I see the harm in one dance, Lady Charlotte. Thank you for asking.”

  Charlotte’s limbs shook as he offered her his arm then once she placed her gloved fingers upon it, he led her onto the dance floor. “Thank you for being so agreeable, my lord,” she murmured while they settled into the requisite position. “I feared you would turn me down with a snarl, but I wished to spare you from what might be another dull conversation with Lady Sophia if she were to return.” Even to her own ears the explanation sounded far-fetched.

  He waited until the dance was underway before speaking. “I thank you for the rescue, but y
ou should know your actions were extremely inappropriate. You will be fresh fodder for the rumor mongers.”

  “I care not for all that.” Indeed, she spoke the truth even as she felt the weight of so many gazes upon her. How could she when the warmth of his hand at the small of her back seeped through her gown and the heat from his other hand holding hers regardless of their gloves loosed butterflies in her belly. His apples and cedar scent assailed her nose and brought her back to the study that evening and the very different sort of heat that had held her captive. “Gossips will talk regardless of what I do or do not do. At least, then, they’ll give your name and reputation a break.”

  When she expected more censure, Nathan said, “I admire a woman who doesn’t bow or fear social conventions. However, I urge you to be more careful in the future.” He pulled her slightly closer as they twirled around the room. “The tabbies are quite merciless.”

  “That is for me to worry about.” She tilted her head back in order to hold his gaze. He was so deliciously tall and lean and strong that she felt protected within his arms—exactly what a woman should with a gentleman. Would he still be thus five years down the line? Her heart quivered as she realized the dance was nearly over. I haven’t had enough time! There was much she wished to talk with him about. So many things to converse upon. In a panic, she moistened her lips. Hot need slid through her lower belly when his gaze dropped to her mouth. Would he kiss her again if she hinted at it? “Will you accompany me to the gardens, my lord?”

  “I believe I asked you to call me by name.” His voice rumbled in her ear. He inched his head closer and a lock of chestnut hair slipped onto his forehead. “Say it.”

  She wanted to brush that hair back, find out if it was as soft as it looked. “Very well. Nathan, will you come to the gardens with me once the dance concludes?” She sucked in a breath. Her stays, combined with his presence, had a wretched effect on her ability to function.