Charles

by Leenie Brown

  She smiled. It was the most welcoming expression to see her pleasure displayed so.

  “And Arthur has mastered the knot I taught him. This is his handiwork.” It felt right sharing these little accomplishments with her. “Do not worry,” he said as he took a seat next to her on the settee. “Mr. Gibbs is in the hall. I told him I did not need an introduction, but he is there, so you have only to call for him if I misbehave.”

  “Do you plan on misbehaving, Mr. Edwards?” Her tone was one of amusement.

  “I rarely plan on it,” he replied with a grin. “That is not true,” he corrected. “I often used to plan on misbehaving.”

  “Used to?” Her lashes fluttered over wide eyes.

  “Yes, used to. I am certain I might still on occasion plan on misbehaving, but I find I have other things to keep my mind occupied.” He held out his hands and turned them over and back. “Such as staining my hands while polishing boots.” He leaned back and extended his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “I shall have to wear gloves tonight. No young lady will wish to dance with a gentleman with hands such as these.”

  “I think the stains are wonderful.” Evelyn picked up one of his hands and turned it over in hers. “They speak of your good heart.” She replaced his hand on his leg and gave him a teasing smile. “However, we would not wish for too many to discover that. Your reputation would be in tatters.”

  He chuckled. “Indeed. That would be a travesty.” He shifted, turning just a bit more towards her. “I have not seen you in two days. At the risk of sounding like my mother, I was beginning to worry about you.”

  Her head dipped, and a pink blush crept up her cheeks.

  “The season seems to have taken its toll, for I found myself tired and in need of a rest.”

  She was inspecting the nails on her hand very carefully as she spoke. There was more than tiredness which had kept her hidden away.

  “And yet, you are here. Seeing to the needs of a charity is not rest. It is admirable and necessary work, but it is not rest.”

  She shook her head. “No, I feel at ease here.” She drew in a deep breath and expelled it in a whoosh. “Here I can breathe.” She turned toward him. “Do you not ever feel the need to escape?”

  “Always,” he replied. “That is why I have thrown myself into the delights of the season with such vigor. Frivolity is as far removed from responsibility as one can get.”

  She tipped her head and studied his face. “And you are content and at ease when being scandalous?”

  He shrugged and then shook his head. He had thought he was. Now, he was not so sure. “Content might not be the correct word.”

  She continued her scrutiny of him as if she needed to know who he was. He could see the need in her eyes.

  “Then what is the correct word?”

  He shook his head again. “I do not know, but content is not it.” He sighed. “My scandalous activities fill a void of some sort. It has given me something to do with my time, and I must admit it is something at which I excel.” He smiled wryly. “And that does nothing to make me appear any less abhorrent in your eyes, does it?”

  She lifted one shoulder and let it drop while giving him a half smile. “The truth is not always pretty.”

  He shook his head. “Not my truth anyway. Yours, however,” he made a motion indicating the room, “is as beautiful as you are.”

  Her smile wavered, and she turned her head away. That was not the reaction he had expected to such a statement.

  “Have I offended?”

  She shook her head. “This is not my truth. It is a passing fancy which I must soon give up.”

  “What do you mean? Has your mother told you that you must?”

  She shook her head again but did not look at him. “No one has told me I must, but if I am to marry, how will I be able to continue as I am? What gentleman, no matter how kind and obliging, is going to allow his wife to remain in town when his estate is elsewhere?”

  His brows furrowed. Had she not declared she would never marry anyone who did not allow her to keep her charity work.

  “Has Mr. Marsh changed his position on your work?”

  It was the only reason he could think of that would cause her to be recanting her words from their last meeting in this house.

  “No,” she replied quickly.

  “Then forgive me, but I do not understand why you must give this up.” He took one of her hands in his. “No man who loves and knows you could ever ask you to give up your soul, for that is what he would be doing if he asked you to leave this behind. There must be some way for you to do your duty as a wife and retain your interest here.”

  He had never expected to receive a smile from her such as she turned on him at that moment. Though it was accompanied by unshed tears clinging to the rims of her eyes, her smile was a thing of beauty unequalled by any of the masters’ attempts at painting beauty.

  “Do you truly think there is some gentleman who would feel that way?”

  He shrugged. “I cannot be the only one, can I?”

  Her laugh was uncertain.

  “What of Mr. Marsh?” he asked quietly. “Is he not the sort who would feel that way?”

  She shook her head. “I fear he is not. He does not enjoy town.”

  “And you are torn between either accepting him and leaving this behind or giving him up?”

  Her lips pursed, her brows furrowed, and he waited for her to reply.

  “It is likely a very poor reflection on my character to admit this,” she began, “but I fear I would shed more tears over giving up Eiddwen House than giving up Mr. Marsh.” She sighed.

  His heart rejoiced to hear such a thing. There was hope that he might win her instead of that toad, Marsh.

  “But where does one find such a man who would accept both me and Eiddwen House?” She turned beautiful, green, question-filled eyes toward him.

  The admonition of Mrs. Kendrick from their discussion at the theatre rang in his ears. “If the opportunity arises, present yourself as a possibility. She does not consider you as one, though I suspect she very much would like to.”

  He swallowed and looked down at the hand he held as fear caused his heart to race. “Here,” he said. “Right here in front of you.”

  Chapter 14

  Evelyn stared at him. Was he truly saying he loved her and would have her for a wife? No, that could not be. She had not known him long enough for him to become enamoured. Yet, he did not appear to be playing any sort of game. His shoulders were lifting and falling in a very deliberate fashion as if breathing was a thing about which he had to think in order to do. And his eyes had not yet met hers. His usual air of confidence and swagger seemed to have been peeled away, leaving a vulnerable gentleman open to either her acceptance or reproach.

  “Say something,” he whispered.

  “I…” She stopped. She had no idea what to say.

  He lifted his eyes to hers finally.

  “I have not offended?” he asked cautiously. His grip on her hand increased as if he was afraid she would snatch it from him.

  She shook her head quite forcefully. She did not feel offended in the least. How could one feel offended by a declaration of love by a gentleman as handsome as Mr. Edwards? “No,” she assured him, “I am shocked, but I am not displeased. Confused, but not distraught.”

  He looked at her hand once again. “I find myself a tad discombobulated,” he admitted. “And, I am rarely shaken, but you.” He lifted his eyes to her once again. “You are very discombobulating. You are not at all like any other lady I have ever met.”

  His lips tipped in a wry half-smile. “This will sound like I am attempting to charm you, but I swear, it is the truth.”

  He waited until she had given him a nod of encouragement to continue.

  “None shine so brightly as you.” He shook his head in a befuddled fashion. “And it is not just your physical beauty, though you possess a great deal of that. It shines from your eyes and hea
rt.” He shrugged.

  Evelyn pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and just looked at him, little knowing how she should respond to such a declaration. He admired her – a lady who had been nothing but direct with him? How? She was not displeased that he admired her. In fact, she found her heart thrilling that he could. She just did not understand how it had come to be when she had not encouraged him in the least.

  “Sappy, is it not?” he asked, his eyes lowering to look at her hand, which he still held.

  She covered his hand with her free one. “No, that is not the right word,” she said with a smile for him when he looked at her again. “I dare say you could not find a lady in all the British Empire who does not wish to hear such things. However, I hope you can forgive me for questioning such wonderful words coming from –”

  “Me,” he finished. “I do not blame you for being skeptical. I am a charmer.”

  She laughed. “You are that, but…” He was capable of so much more than just being a charmer.

  “But what?” he asked.

  She sighed. “You are more than that if you will allow yourself to be.”

  He shifted to look at her more fully. “Do I have any hope?”

  “Of being more?” she asked in surprise.

  He shook his head. “No, of ever being enough.”

  “Enough? Enough what?”

  “Enough for you,” he answered.

  Evelyn’s free hand flew to her heart which ached at his words. “Oh, no, you must not strive to be enough for me.”

  His eyes dropped from hers once again.

  “Do not misunderstand me.” She moved her hand from her heart to his cheek, drawing his attention back to her. “You must only ever strive to be enough for you. And no, you have not been doing that. You have been hiding. You admitted as much to me just a few moments ago. Your life of frivolity is your escape.”

  “Do you scold every gentleman who lays his heart at your feet?”

  She shook her head and attempted to contain her smile but was unsuccessful. “No.”

  “So, I am special?”

  “Yes, Mr. Edwards, you are special, and…” She paused. His eyes still spoke of his vulnerability and honesty. “Yes, you are not without hope of being enough for you, and in so doing, earning my undying admiration.”

  His eyes lit with delight. She had seen them twinkle with mischief and amusement, but she had not seen them as they were now. They were perhaps the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. However, she knew she needed to progress carefully. Mr. Edwards did have a reputation that was not one of great respectability, and he was just beginning to change his ways. And then there was…

  “My mother,” she said with a sigh, “will not be pleased with me, which is part of why I am hiding here at Eiddwen House.”

  “I am sorry, but I do not understand.”

  “I have not yet figured out how to refuse Mr. Marsh’s offer without angering her.”

  “Marsh offered for you?”

  Evelyn nodded. “He wrote to my father, and the very day he received the letter containing my father’s permission, he sought me out and proposed.”

  “But you have not accepted?”

  “No. He has given me time to consider my response, although it is not my response to his offer which I have been contemplating, but rather my mother’s displeasure at my refusing such a reasonable and respectable gentleman. And if I then inform her that I have given you reason to hope for a better response than Mr. Marsh, well…” She could tell by the way his head was bobbing up and down slowly that he understood.

  “Rejecting a respectable toad for a scoundrel would not be to her liking.”

  “He is not a toad,” Evelyn scolded, earning an amused chuckle from Charles which caused her to smile sheepishly. “I will admit his voice is rather croaky, but he is a kind man. And it is neither nice or acceptable to speak of him in such a fashion.”

  “It is perfectly acceptable for a gentleman to use such terms when describing his competition.”

  She pulled her hand away from him and crossed her arms as she shook her head. “Not when he is speaking to the lady at the heart of the contest.”

  “I will concede you that point.” He rose and extended his hand to her. “You are not going to sit here all day, are you? There is a soiree tonight at which I need to dance with you and behave appropriately if I am to win both your and your mother’s good opinions.”

  She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet. “I was going to plead another headache and avoid it,” she admitted.

  “You cannot,” he answered. “You must give me the opportunity to improve in your mother’s opinion so that when you do tell Mr. Marsh your answer, she’ll not send you to the tower when she discovers you have fallen for a former rogue such as myself.”

  His eyes were back to twinkling with amusement, but there was a softness to them which spoke of more than just teasing. It was a look that warmed her from head to toe with the strangest feeling of worth.

  He touched her lips with his finger. “You have no idea how much I long to kiss you.”

  “So that is all this is?” she replied lightly. “A ploy to steal a kiss?”

  He shook his head. “No. I will admit that since you entered that alcove with Miss Linton, I have been scheming to find a way to kiss you. However, as much as I would like to steal a kiss, I will not. Not from you, Evelyn. Never from you. I will accept any kisses you give me, but I will not take one.” He kissed the tip of one stained finger and touched her lips with it.

  Then, while her cheeks flamed, and her heart raced, he placed her hand on his arm.

  “I will assume you have things you need to retrieve from your office before you depart?”

  She nodded and allowed him to escort her to said office, where he left her with a bow and a promise to see her that evening.

  ~*~*~

  “It is a pleasure to see you, Miss Barrett.”

  Mr. Marsh was standing at the ballroom door as if he had been waiting and watching for Evelyn’s arrival, which, from the warm smile he wore when he greeted her, she had to admit was precisely what he was doing. If she loved him or felt anything more than friendship for the gentleman, it would have been a lovely thing to be greeted so. However, since she did not feel like anything more than his friend – an absolutely wretched friend, who was going to cause him pain – she merely smiled and looked past him into the ballroom, attempting to find either Constance or Mr. Edwards. She knew that both would be there. And at present, knowing that she must eventually refuse the gentleman beside her, she would feel much more comfortable standing with either Constance or Mr. Edwards than with Mr. Marsh.

  “The decorations are beautiful,” she said as her eyes scanned the room.

  “You appear eager to dance.” He extended his arm to her. “I hope you will allow me the pleasure of the first set?”

  “Of course,” she replied, placing her hand on his arm.

  “And a second set later?”

  “Perhaps,” she hedged.

  “A second set would be just the thing,” Mrs. Barrett interrupted. “Evelyn will be delighted to be so honoured. Will you not, dear?”

  “Indeed,” Evelyn agreed. While two sets would make her mother pleased, it would also raise speculation among everyone else. She sighed. It was not the first time Mr. Marsh had asked and been granted two sets. It was just that at present she did not wish to encourage an attachment either in his mind or the minds of everyone else assembled. She should just give him her answer tomorrow when he called and then slip out to Eiddwen House before her mother could lock her in her room for being so foolish as to refuse a good match.

  “She will not lock you in your room,” Constance assured her later when Evelyn finally had a moment free to speak with her friend. “She will be disappointed, but she will want what is best for your happiness. She always has.”

  Evelyn glanced over her shoulder. There was no one near who would hear, but as an ext
ra precaution, she drew Constance closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “What if my happiness lies with a choice of whom she will not approve? And please do not gloat.”

  “You mean?” Constance asked eagerly.

  “Yes, I think I might. I am not entirely certain, but… Oh, Connie, if you could have seen and heard him today when he found me at Eiddwen House. I so want to believe that he is sincere in his reform, but I am not completely convinced.”

  “Wait and watch. That was how I knew that Henry had finally found himself.”

  “It was not his declaration of love for you in that store?” Evelyn teased.

  “Miss Linton, Miss Barrett, have either of you seen my brother tonight?”

  Evelyn looked up to see that Mary Crawford had approached them while they were talking.

  “I have,” Constance replied.

  “So have I,” Evelyn added.

  “Might you be so kind as to point out his location to me?”

  “Are you certain that he wishes for you to know it?” Charles gave Evelyn a nod and a wink as he joined them.

  Mary Crawford glowered at him. “I am his sister. Why would he not wish for me to know where he is?”

  Charles took out his quizzing glass and as he looked over the other people in the ballroom replied, “Surely, you remember his words to you at your last meeting. My eye has not allowed me to forget them.” He put his quizzing glass back in his pocket. “He is standing next to Linton. I assume you have found that which he required you to find before approaching him again? That is why you have Mr. Tenley with you, is it not?” He nodded a greeting to the gentleman, which was returned.

  “I have not lost anything.”

  Charles folded his arms across his chest as his lips curled in a taunting smile. “Yes, one would need to have a heart in order to both lose it and then find it again.”

  Mary’s mouth dropped open.

  “That is really outside of enough,” said Mr. Tenley. “I insist you apologize.”

  Charles drew a breath and expelled it. “Let me tell you what is outside of enough, Mr. Tenley. This black eye, the terror Miss Linton experienced when her brother was attempting to force her to marry me, and a sister who would blacken her brother’s name and dash his hopes for happiness in the name of what? A dinner guest who was capable of keeping her friends warm in a way their husbands could or would not?”