Heart of a Marquess: Regency Romance (Gentlemen and Brides)

by Joyce Alec

  14

  Charlotte had been caught up watching her stepsister talking to Lord Withington, wondering whether Lady Emma was confessing that she had told him falsehoods. It had been a few days since their conversation in the gardens, and in that time, Lady Emma had appeared to have the change of character she had promised.

  She had been nothing but kind towards Charlotte, even going so far as to link arms with her and discuss the day’s events with her in a warm and friendly manner. Charlotte had not known what to do other than to go along with it but still refusing to trust that her stepsister was entirely trustworthy.

  Lady Perrin, of course, had been delighted to see such a transformation and had encouraged them both in different ways—although Charlotte had never seen the flicker of doubt in Lady Perrin’s eyes entirely disappear. It was not something she could easily let go of either, not when it had only been a short time since Lady Emma had declared her change of heart.

  And then, to see her lean forward and kiss Lord Withington full on the mouth, it had struck an arrow right through Charlotte’s heart.

  The worst of it was that Lord Withington had not immediately moved away. Charlotte did not know why he had not, her eyes unable to remove themselves from the scene unfolding in front of her. Finally, when he had broken it off and stumbled back, she had seen him stare at Lady Emma before turning his gaze to her, searching for her amongst the crowd.

  She had been unable to remain, unable to watch what would occur after such an incident, and so she had taken to her heels, hurrying away from the ballroom, and in the process bumping into Lady Perrin.

  Somehow, Charlotte had come up with a garbled explanation about having a headache, and before Lady Perrin could even respond, Charlotte had left her side and hurried up the corridor.

  The thought of going to her chambers was an unwelcome one—for surely that was where Lord Withington would seek her out first. Instead, she had hurried outside, relieved that she had her thin shawl with which to cover her shoulders.

  The cool night air was a welcome relief, a calming stillness away from the hubbub of the crowd and noise of the ballroom. Charlotte had not known where she was going, her feet taking her in a random direction as she sought to find a place of solace.

  The lily ponds were quiet and still, and Charlotte sank down onto a bench by the water, her eyes filling with tears. She could not express how she felt with words, for the tearing of her soul was so painful it racked her entire being. Sense told her that Lord Withington had been taken by surprise, but then why had he not moved away almost at once? Why had he lingered?

  Charlotte’s tears dripped onto her lap, soaking into her dress. Her stepsister still hated her with every part of her being, that was for certain. This had all been a ruse, a cover to allow her to concoct a way to tear Charlotte’s life apart, to make her believe that Lord Withington could be easily pulled towards another.

  The memory of them on the staircase was burned into Charlotte’s mind and was not something she thought she would easily be able to forget. How did one simply dismiss something like that?

  Wiping her eyes hurriedly, Charlotte heard the sound of running feet. Quickly hiding herself behind a rather large tree, she heard Lord Withington shouting for her.

  “We need to talk. I beg of you, let me talk to you. Do not let your stepsister’s evil ways push us apart. Not when I have so much to say to you!”

  His words tore into her already damaged heart, trying to believe that what he said was true, but finding it impossible to forget what she had seen. She did not want to see him, not now. Not yet. It was still too soon, still too fresh.

  “Charlotte?” he called again, stepping into the arbor, and Charlotte took her chance. Seeing the lantern-lit maze just behind her, she quickly hurried towards it, thinking that she would hide herself there for a time. Her heart thundered in her chest as she moved away from him, tears still running down her cheeks in rivulets.

  “Charlotte!”

  He had seen her.

  Her feet moved quickly, pushing her to run faster, moving heedlessly through the maze.

  “Charlotte, please!” he called, his voice closer to her than before. “Do not run from me. We need to talk! You know we do. What happened—it was not of my doing! I swear it to you.”

  Charlotte could hardly get her breath, sobs rising in her chest as she tried to hide herself from him, but finding that the deeper she went in the maze, the more hopelessly lost she became.

  “Leave me, Lord Withington,” she called, her voice breaking with pain. “I do not wish to speak to you.”

  “I cannot leave things as they are,” came the reply, from only just behind her. “Charlotte, stop.”

  Turning one more corner, Charlotte came to an abrupt halt. There was nowhere for her to go. This was a dead end. The only choice she had was to turn back and find another path through, but unfortunately, that path would also lead back to Lord Withington.

  Putting shaking hands in front of her face, Charlotte tried to quieten her breathing, hoping that he would not hear her quiet sobs. Sinking down, she pressed her back against the hedge, putting her arms on her knees as she crouched low, wanting to hide herself entirely from his presence.

  “Charlotte, please…”

  His agonized whisper told her that his heart was tearing just as much as her own.

  “Charlotte, I did not mean for that to occur,” he continued, bending down directly in front of her. “Lady Emma took me completely by surprise. I swear it to you.”

  His words wrapped around her mind, settling into her soul. She knew them to be true. She knew Lady Emma too well to believe that he had anything to do with it.

  Lifting her head, she looked into his face, seeing the agony written in his eyes as the lanterns flickered above them. “You did not step away at once.”

  He closed his eyes, pain tightening the corners of his mouth. “No, I did not. I was overtaken by surprise.” Opening them slowly, he studied her, one hand tentatively reaching out to rest on her knee. “I can give you no other explanation than that, Charlotte,” he finished heavily. “When I saw you were gone, I knew what you must have seen and what you may have thought.”

  Something heavy fell into her stomach. “Did any of the other guests see you?” She clasped his cold hand, a deep fear curling in her stomach. “Are they calling compromise?”

  Lord Withington drew in a deep breath, and much to her relief, he shook his head. “No, I do not believe so. I spoke to Lady Perrin as I came to find you and discovered that she was quite unaware of what had occurred, and you know that she has very sharp eyes!”

  All of her breath left Charlotte’s body in one go, making her chest heave with relief. She leaned back against the hedge and looked up at the sky as fresh tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “I do not know why she hates me so,” she whispered, growing aware of how he was brushing her fingers with his thumb. “If I close my eyes, all I can see is her…and you.”

  Lord Withington said nothing, but slowly got to his feet and gently pulled her up beside him. Charlotte looked up into his face, wanting to crumple into a million pieces, shattering entirely in the hope that he would be able to put her back together.

  “I do not know what to do,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “Lady Emma can use this to her advantage. She will try everything to prevent—” Biting her lip, she shook her head and dropped her gaze to his chest, not quite sure what she was trying to say.

  “She will try her best to prevent your happiness,” Lord Withington finished, brushing her cheek gently. “Even I know her well enough to see that now. I had thought her change in character was a genuine one, especially when she apologized to me for what she had told me about you.” A frustrated groan left his lips as he threw his head back and stared up at the sky, his hands clenching into fists. “How foolish I was!”

  Charlotte drew in a long, shuddering breath, trying to find her equilibrium. “I do not blame you, my lord,” she managed to say, s
hivering a little with the chill of the night air. “I was just overcome with what I saw.”

  “And who could blame you?” he muttered, returning his gaze to her. “My dear Charlotte, I care not a jot for Lady Emma. I swear it to you—here and now. The only person I care for, the only one I need, is you.”

  Looking up into his face, Charlotte stepped closer and boldly put her hands on his chest. There was something solid about his presence, something that settled her mind and soul. “I believe you, Lord Withington. I am much relieved that no one saw what occurred.”

  “I could never marry Lady Emma,” Lord Withington replied, fervently. “She is the very antithesis of you. All she cares for is her status and title, which is mayhap why she thought to try and force my hand. Had someone seen us, other than just you, then she might now be crying for matrimony.” His lip curled, his jaw tightening. “Just like all the others who sought me for my title.” Glancing down at her, he smiled softly, his anger fading. “Not like you, however.”

  “I am glad that you know me so well,” Charlotte replied, looking up at him and seeing his irritation die away as he settled one hand on her waist, catching her cheek with the other.

  Peace settled in her heart, her pain and sadness fading to nothing. Her stepsister was not about to win this, nor was she going to succeed in taking Lord Withington away from her.

  “I am sorry for running off like that, Lord Withington. I was just completely overcome.”

  “Withington, please,” he murmured, running one hand over her shoulder and down her arm until he caught her hand. “You need not apologize, my dear. I understand why you needed an escape.”

  “Although now it seems it is you who has caught me in a trap,” Charlotte whispered, her skin prickling with anticipation, as she grew aware of just how entirely alone they both were.

  15

  The change in his expression was almost immediate.

  “Yes, I believe I have,” he murmured, moving fractionally closer to her. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth if I had to, for I could not let you go from this place without declaring my feelings to you.”

  “Your feelings?” Charlotte breathed, all pain and sadness forgotten as she saw the depths of emotion in his eyes.

  He smiled softly, taking both of her hands in his own. “I will confess that it took me a little time to become aware of my emotions. Indeed, it was actually Kinsley who suggested it only for me to realize that what he said was true.” Releasing one of her hands, he ran his finger lightly down her cheek, as though wanting to prolong the moment. “I believe I am in love with you, Charlotte.”

  Stars exploded around them as she stared at him, feeling the way his hand tightened on hers.

  “I mean it, Charlotte,” he repeated, laughing softly as she struggled to find a way to respond. “I truly love you. I know our acquaintance has not been of a particularly long duration, but I will confess that I have never felt such a way as this before. You are the one who has shown me that there can be such a thing as love without regard for status or title, without the constant worry about fortune and whether or not you are marrying into a good family. I love you because of who you are, because of your truly beautiful character. Your eyes capture my heart. Your smile is constantly in my thoughts. I could not let you go this evening without telling you the truth about my heart.” Taking her hands, he pressed them lightly against his chest, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. “My heart is yours, Charlotte. Yours alone, and I swear to you, it will never belong to another.”

  Charlotte was swept away in a wave of delight and happiness, her smile so bright that even the stars were envious of her beauty. “I am not worthy of such a gift.”

  “Yes, you are,” he replied fervently. “More than worthy.”

  Charlotte’s hands dropped to her sides as Withington pulled her tightly to him, clearly aware of the love shining in her eyes. She found that she could look nowhere but his face, her hands reaching up onto his chest once more, feeling the beating of his heart and knowing that every word he said was true.

  “Will you be mine, Charlotte?” he whispered, resting his forehead lightly against her own. “Will you be my bride?”

  Charlotte laughed softly, twining her arms around his neck. “You should ask my stepfather first, I believe.”

  Withington chuckled. “He is not here, nor is he likely to return from the honeymoon any time soon. I am afraid I simply cannot wait that long.”

  The smile never leaving her face, Charlotte looked deeply into his eyes. “I love you, Withington. Should my stepfather grant it, then I accept your offer of matrimony. I will be your bride.”

  He did not pause but dropped his head, his lips touching hers with such fierceness that Charlotte lost her breath. She did not hold back but kissed him back with all the desire she felt, wanting to show him just how much love was in her heart.

  His breathing slightly ragged, Lord Withington broke their kiss although his arms remained encircled around her waist. “I should return you to the ball and to Lady Perrin,” he murmured, giving her the lightest of kisses. “She will be worried.”

  “And mayhap, in light of my stepfather and mother’s absence, you might seek her permission instead,” Charlotte replied, with a small smile. “I have no doubt that Lady Perrin will be more than willing to give you the consent you need. My stepfather will not hesitate to agree with her. I can assure you of that!”

  Lord Withington chuckled. “A very good idea, my love,” he said warmly. “Come now, take my arm and maybe together we will be able to find a way out of this maze!”

  That was one thing Charlotte had forgotten, realizing that in her haste to run from Lord Withington, she had become quite lost within the maze. They walked for some time, going this way and that, and encountering numerous dead ends before finally, they saw the lily ponds and arbor once more.

  “Goodness, that was more difficult than I had imaged,” Withington muttered, shooting a glance behind him. “Remind me to tell Kinsley that his maze is much too intricate.”

  Charlotte laughed and made to reply, only for the sound of a shriek to reach their ears. Glancing up at once another, they hurried forward without a word—only to see none other than Lady Emma come flying towards them, swiftly followed by Lady Perrin.

  “You!” Lady Emma shrieked, pointing one shaking finger towards Charlotte. “Take your hand away from my fiancé!”

  “Fiancé?” Charlotte echoed, her mind going quite blank. “Are you referring to Lord Withington, Emma?”

  “Of course, I am!” she shouted, starting towards Charlotte. “I kissed him in full view of all the guests, and now I am afraid, we must wed.”

  Charlotte’s hand tightened on Lord Withington’s arm, only for him to pat her hand gently.

  “Lady Emma, I have very little idea of what you are saying,” Lord Withington said quietly. “I have only just now become engaged to Miss Richardson.” His tone was firm and defensive, reassuring Charlotte that he had no intention of giving Lady Emma any leeway. “There is nothing between you and I, Lady Emma. You are quite mistaken in that idea.”

  “Emma!” Lady Perrin exclaimed, catching up to her niece and grasping her arm firmly. “Whatever are you doing?”

  “I am engaged to Lord Withington,” Lady Emma declared, her eyes burning with fire. “I told you how he kissed me in the ballroom, Aunt Agatha.”

  Charlotte bristled with annoyance. “Emma, you are a fool if you think that anyone here believes that nonsense. Withington has explained everything to me.”

  “And you would believe him over your stepsister?” Lady Emma asked, sounding quite incredulous.

  Charlotte shook her head, hardly believing that Emma was continuing with her ridiculous façade. “There is nothing but animosity between us, Emma. I thought to believe you when you told me you had changed. I thought you realized the damage and hurt you had caused, but I see now that it was nothing more than a sham, a game, to try to push me away from Lord Withington.”
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  “Unfortunately, your little ploy has not succeeded,” Lord Withington continued, taking Charlotte’s hand in his own. “Charlotte and I intend to be wed very soon.”

  Lady Emma glared at them both, shaking off Lady Perrin’s hand and moving closer to Charlotte, who—aware of what Emma’s temper was like—took a small step back.

  “Careful,” Withington whispered, holding her hand tightly. “The ponds are just behind you.”

  Lady Emma stopped dead, only a few steps away from Charlotte. “You are not meant to have a husband of such a high title,” she said, her expression one of pure hatred. “You come after me, Charlotte. This should be my engagement.”

  “That is not how love works,” Charlotte replied softly. “Love cares nothing for social climbing, nor for whose fortune will be bettered by an arranged betrothal.”

  Lady Emma snorted. “Love?” she spat, her eyes burning. “That means nothing.”

  “It means the world,” Lord Withington replied firmly. “Lady Emma, I once knew a young lady such as you. She was kind and sweet and attentive, but I was not drawn to her particularly. She tried to arrange a situation where I would be forced to wed her, and since that time, I swore never to go near such ladies as she was.” He paused and cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on Lady Emma. “Ladies such as you, Lady Emma.”

  She snarled, her brows furrowing as her hands curled into fists. Lady Perrin stepped forward, making to reach for her niece, but Lady Emma stepped aside, dodging her quickly.

  “I will not be manipulated into matrimony,” Withington finished, tightening his grip on Charlotte’s hand. “I intend to seek Lady Perrin’s permission to wed Charlotte, given that her stepfather and mother are absent at this present time. When she agrees, a wedding date shall be set.” He looked down at Charlotte, a warm smile crossing his face. “As soon as possible I think.”

  Charlotte glowed with happiness, forgetting all about Lady Emma for a moment—only for a shriek of pure rage to meet her ears, breaking the silence. As she turned back to face her stepsister, she saw her lunge at her, and just as Lady Emma was about to grab her, Withington tugged her out of the way.