by Joyce Alec
She frowned, dropping her hand from his arm. “I appreciate the compliment, my lord,” she murmured, turning a little away from him. “And yet it appears that for some time you still considered that I would be like your Miss Thackery, that I would do all I could to entrap a gentleman into matrimony.”
“No, no, not in the least!” he exclaimed, desperate to make her understand. “It is just that you are the stepdaughter of the Earl of Hardwick, and your stepsister is Lady Emma—”
“And my status might make it a trifle more difficult for me to marry well,” Miss Richardson finished, her eyes suddenly ablaze. “However, that does not mean I would do such a thing, my lord. After the evening in question, you did not write to me, nor call upon me to sort out the matter, and you were decidedly cool towards me when I first came to speak to you here. What else am I to make of your behavior?”
Seeing the hurt in her expression, Phillip let out a groan and closed his eyes. “I am making a mess of this, am I not?” he said, letting out a sigh of exasperation. “I did not mean to suggest that at all, Miss Richardson. It was just that, after the evening we were out walking alone, I met your stepsister, who suggested a few other things about your character.”
“My stepsister?” Miss Richardson repeated, her face growing pale. “She spoke to you about me?”
“Very unkindly,” he confessed, stepping forward and reaching for her hand, desperate not to put another wedge of animosity and anger between them. “I will admit that I considered her words to be true for a time, but that was only because I did not know you particularly well. Now I see that she was not speaking the truth.”
Miss Richardson swallowed and lifted her chin. “We are not close, my lord,” she said, her eyes sparkling with bright, shimmering tears. “Lady Emma believes she ought to marry first, which in her opinion, means I must not encroach on her friendships and acquaintances.”
Phillip, feeling more than a little guilt-ridden over his poor consideration of Miss Richardson, dropped his head. “I am sorry for thinking ill of you,” he said quietly. “I meant every word I said, Miss Richardson, about how my intentions to remain entirely unattached went out of my head the moment I set eyes on you.” He slowly raised his eyes to hers and saw, much to his relief, that her tears were gone. “I am struggling with the burdens of the past. If you are willing to forgive me, yet again, then I would like to continue our acquaintance, fraught as our first few interactions have been.” Pressing her hand, he drew a little closer, filled with a desire to press his lips against hers, even though his mind was screaming at him not to do such a thing.
She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes with a steadiness that had his heart quickening with hope. “Very well, Lord Withington,” she said softly. “I will allow you the opportunity to prove that you do not think ill of me.”
“What I think and feel is quite the opposite, I assure you,” he breathed, suddenly desperate to show her the depth of his feelings.
“Good,” she replied firmly, stepping away from him. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, Lord Withington. I had best return inside now before Lady Perrin rises.” She gave a quick bob, her skirts flurrying around her, before turning around and walking quickly back inside.
11
It took all of Charlotte’s inner strength not to find her stepsister and tear her hair out right in front of Lady Perrin. When Lord Withington stated, with confusion and worry in his eyes, that Lady Emma had spoken to him about her, Charlotte had wanted to scream out loud in frustration.
It was as though Lady Emma was trying to sabotage her at every turn, even though Charlotte had done nothing but try to be amiable with her. Her hands curling into fists, Charlotte paced the floor and tried to calm her fierce anger. Nothing good would come of losing her temper with her stepsister, for that was most likely what Lady Emma wanted. If Charlotte made a scene in front of either Lady Perrin or, worse, in front of the other guests, then Lady Emma would look like the one being attacked, despite it being the exact opposite.
“Did I see you walking with Lord Withington?”
Startled, Charlotte turned to see Lady Perrin, swiftly followed by Lady Emma, walking into her bedchamber, entirely unannounced.
“I beg your pardon?” Charlotte asked, not quite sure what Lady Perrin had said since her gaze had been fixed on Lady Emma, who was giving her a slightly dark smile.
“I said, were you out walking with Lord Withington?”
“No, I was not,” Charlotte replied honestly.
“Liar!”
Lady Emma stepped forward, her finger pointed directly at Charlotte’s face. “I saw you. I saw you both.”
Charlotte lifted one eyebrow. “I did not go out walking with Lord Withington, Emma. I was out for my morning walk as usual, and he happened upon me. We talked for a few minutes, and then I went indoors.”
Lady Emma grinned, her eyes flashing before spinning around to face Lady Perrin. “You see?” she declared triumphantly. “I told you she was out walking with him.”
Lady Perrin frowned, making Emma’s smile widen all the more and sending a dart of anxiety rushing through Charlotte. She had done nothing wrong, had she?
“Lord Withington was simply out strolling in the garden then?”
“Yes,” Charlotte replied calmly, forcing herself to ignore Lady Emma’s gleeful smile. “As I said, we talked for a few moments before I continued indoors. Nothing was untoward.”
“And you were in full view of the house.”
“And the gardeners,” Charlotte answered, relieved to see Lady Perrin’s frown lift slightly. “I was civil, and then I left.”
There was a short silence where Charlotte felt as though she were in a courtroom, waiting for judgment to fall.
“Well then, I can see nothing wrong,” Lady Perrin determined with a brief smile. “Why ever you thought to tell me such a thing, Emma, is quite beyond me. I have a deep trust in Charlotte. I know she will never allow her reputation to become stained.” She lifted one eyebrow as she regarded Lady Emma, a slight rebuke in her words as she spoke. “Lord Withington, equally, is a well-respected gentleman with no fault in his character that would make me believe he would ever take advantage of Charlotte.” She brushed her hands together as though dusting the matter from them entirely. “Now, are you ready for breakfast?”
“No!” Lady Emma screeched, her face going a shade of crimson as she stormed in front of Charlotte. “She is wicked! She is deceitful! She ought not to be a part of this house party any longer. She is not worthy of Lord Withington’s notice!”
Charlotte’s hands curled into fists. “Why are you so determined to push me aside in any way you can, Emma?” she retorted, pain slicing through her soul. “We are meant to be acting like sisters, but you are doing all you can to have my name and reputation brought into question! I cannot understand it!”
Lady Emma whirled around, her face contorted with frustration. “You took my life away from me! You and your mother, thinking that you know what is best for my father!”
“My mother loves your father, and he loves her,” Charlotte replied, battling to keep her anger in check. “And that does not mean that he does not care for you any longer.”
Lady Emma opened and shut her mouth, her eyes still blazing.
“Things have changed for us both,” Charlotte continued, wondering whether or not Lady Emma was going to attack her again. “It is time we simply got on with it and stopped trying to make enemies of one another.”
“I just want you to get out of my way,” Lady Emma retorted, her voice losing some of its anger. “Leave me to find my own husband, then you may find your own.”
Charlotte shook her head, lifting her chin a little. “I will not be told what to do, Emma. My acquaintances are my own business, and therefore, none of your concern.”
“And that is where this conversation ends,” Lady Perrin interjected firmly. “Emma, I had thought you had gotten over this ridiculous obsession, and I am deeply disa
ppointed to discover it is evidently not the case. It is not your place to determine who Charlotte chooses to speak to.” Putting her hands on her hips, Lady Perrin considered her niece for a few moments. “I think you and I need to have a long discussion. A breakfast tray in my chambers, I think.”
“Aunt Agatha, no!” Lady Emma whined, sounding more childish than before. “I have acquaintances to greet, conversations to have…”
“All of which will still be waiting for you once we have talked,” Lady Perrin said firmly. “Come now, child. No complaints from you.” There was both a firmness and gentleness in her voice, as though she were cajoling a small infant.
Charlotte felt herself slowly begin to relax as Lady Emma unwillingly followed Lady Perrin from the room. Frowning to herself, she sat back down by the fire and waited until the door clicked shut before letting out a long breath of relief.
There was truth in what Lady Perrin had said. Lady Emma had been carrying this burden of spite for some time, and she still continued to grow angry with Charlotte over what she perceived to be inappropriate behavior. This happened despite the fact that nothing Charlotte did was in any way improper. Her lips twisted as she considered what Lady Emma had revealed.
Clearly, a great deal of anger remained in regard to her father’s marriage to Charlotte’s mother, a resentment that had built up into something ugly. Charlotte bore the brunt of that ugliness, which did not seem to be diminishing in any way.
Deep within her heart, Charlotte allowed herself to feel a little sympathy for Lady Emma. It had been a charmed life for her thus far, where practically everything she asked for was granted—only for all that to be taken away when Charlotte’s mother had wed Lady Emma’s father. No longer was Lady Emma the apple of her father’s eye, although it did not mean that he lost any kind of love for her. It was just that she was no longer the only one he thought of, the only one he was concerned about. Charlotte could understand why that was difficult for her stepsister.
She herself found sharing her mother a little unsettling, although she was aware of just how lonely her mother had been over the last few years. There was a great deal of happiness in Charlotte’s heart over the marriage, even if it meant that it would never truly be simply her and her mother again. She did not feel the same as Lady Emma did, yet that did not stop her from feeling a little compassion towards her.
“I do hope Lady Perrin can talk some sense into her,” she murmured to herself, absentmindedly tracing her cheek where Lady Emma had scratched her the first time she had burst into anger. The last thing Charlotte wanted was another all-out fight. It had caused her a great deal of pain last time and had made Lord Withington wonder why she had been out of society.
Lord Withington was another matter altogether, however. Charlotte sighed again, although the corners of her mouth lifted just a little. He had apologized profusely, and she had forgiven him almost at once, although she had enjoyed taking her time in doing so. It had made him even more repentant, all the more urgent in his desperation for her forgiveness. His words, she could not forget. They had made their way into the crevices of her mind and lodged there, determined to remain forever.
What I think and feel is quite the opposite, I assure you.
Charlotte blushed despite being entirely alone. He had almost been about to kiss her, she was quite sure of it. Had she given him the slightest encouragement then, she had no doubt that his lips would have been pressed to her own in a moment.
It was not that she did not want such an attention, of course, but rather that she knew it would not be appropriate to do so. Such things were only done when one was deeply attached, and even then, a kiss remained a trifle questionable. Yet, she could not deny the strength of feeling that came over her whenever she considered what it would be like to be kissed by Lord Withington. Closing her eyes, Charlotte tried to rid herself of such thoughts, aware that she had decided only to further her acquaintance with Lord Withington for the time being—despite the strange warmth burrowing into her heart whenever she laid eyes on him. He had much to prove first.
“All in all, he appears to be quite a genteel man,” she murmured to herself, rising to her feet and checking her reflection in the mirror. Much to her surprise, she saw a rosy haired, bright-eyed young lady looking back at her, when before she had been pale skinned with no brightness in her eyes. Evidently, thinking of Lord Withington did wonders for her appearance.
Checking the time, Charlotte drew in a sharp breath, and with one last critical look at herself, hurried to the door, opening it and descending quickly down the stairs. She was already late for breakfast, and despite having eaten a light repast only a few hours earlier, Charlotte felt her stomach grumble.
Her mind flurried with thoughts of Lord Withington, wondering when they might have the opportunity to speak to one another again. A wide smile spread across her face at the thought, suddenly glad that he had been so willing to talk to her about what had occurred between himself and another young lady. In that way, she was able to understand a little better as to why he appeared so wary in continuing their acquaintance—although, of course, she would never try to trick him into matrimony. Charlotte determined to enjoy the house party simply for what it was, and in doing so, get to know the remaining guests a little better instead of fixing her attentions all on one particular gentleman.
However, such a determination went right out of her head the moment she stepped into the dining room and saw Lord Withington smiling up at her, his gaze intent as the other guests continued to talk amongst themselves. None of them noticed the brightness of his smile, nor the delight in his eyes—except for Charlotte, who—for a moment—felt as though she were walking on air.
12
Charlotte laughed aloud as Lord Withington finished his story, finding his antics of youth more than a little humorous. In the last two days since their first meeting in the gardens, Charlotte had spent more time in the marquess’ company and had found him to be both amiable and warm. Thankfully, Lady Emma had remained quiet and slightly subdued. Her stepsister barely looked at Charlotte during that time, which relieved Charlotte to a great extent.
“I can hardly believe it, Lord Withington,” she chuckled, once her laughter had abated. “You would not have been so foolish!”
“Ah, but I was a very different man in my youth,” he replied, shaking his head. “A very different man indeed. I do not think you would have liked me as I was.”
“And you think I like you now?” Charlotte asked, lifting one eyebrow but finding it impossible to hide her smile.
Lord Withington stared at her for a moment, before chuckling. “Now you are teasing me, Miss Richardson,” he said softly. “Who would have thought it?”
They continued to walk together as the rest of the guests continued to stroll quietly a little ahead of them, apparently awestruck by the beauty of the rolling hills that surrounded them.
“May I ask what made such a swift change of character?” Charlotte asked softly, hoping she was not prying too much. “Was it this lady that you once spoke of?”
“Miss Thackery,” he replied, his laughter suddenly gone. “Yes, Miss Thackery made me realize a great deal about myself and the world in which we live. You see, Miss Richardson, I realized that I was, in fact, surrounded by those who cared nothing for me but only for my title and my wealth. I came into my title at a rather young age, you see. My father was never a well man and neither were we particularly close. Unfortunately, due to that lack of guidance, I knew very little about what was expected of me. In fact, I truly did not care about the responsibilities I inherited. Not until the incident with Miss Thackery.”
“So, in a way, you ought to be thankful that you had such an experience,” Charlotte murmured, thinking aloud. “Although I understand just how dreadful that must have been.”
“I was never more grateful for my friendship with Lord Kinsley,” came the fervent reply. “And yes, I suppose that I should consider that part of my life as having a good
outcome, despite the experience. In her way, Miss Thackery taught me a great deal.”
Charlotte laughed softly, looking up at him. “Except for the fact that you believed all women to be the same as she was,” she stated wryly. “That is your only failing in this, Lord Withington.”
He paused for a moment, allowing the guests to walk a little further ahead. “But now I have you to teach me otherwise,” he said softly. “I cannot believe that you care only for title and wealth, Miss Richardson.”
A little taken aback, Charlotte frowned. “I would hope that you know me well enough to be aware of that,” she replied carefully. “I know our acquaintance has not been of long standing, but I have never once considered your title nor your fortune as part of my reason for continuing our association, Lord Withington. I have never—”
His lips touched hers, stopping her dead. It was nothing more than a feather touch, so swift yet so light to the point that she had to wonder whether it had actually occurred.
“I do apologize,” he murmured, stepping back and casting an anxious glance towards the guests who, thankfully, had not noticed their absence at all. “I have made such a muddle of my words that I thought that might be the only way to assure you of my high opinion.”
“Indeed,” Charlotte breathed, fighting the urge to touch her lips. “I am quite astonished, Lord Withington.”
“I did not do wrong, did I?” he asked, looking more than a little apprehensive. “I simply could not help myself, Miss Richardson. I confess to you now that my feelings for you are growing with almost every moment that passes.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, her entire body warming. “I…I do not know what to say,” she whispered, keenly aware that he was waiting for her response with a great deal of expectation. “Of course, I have a certain attachment to you, my lord, but I did not expect you to…”
There was a short silence.
“I was too hasty,” he said eventually, his shoulders slumping. “I see.”
