“No, it doesn’t.” Annoyed, she clanged down her knife and pushed her plate away. He took her for granted and didn’t consider her wishes at all. He might have asked her properly.
Was this to be all about him? The man she married was to be considerate of her feelings, as he would love her. She chewed her bottom lip. “I’ll give you my answer after I’ve seen the will.”
“Very well,” he said mildly, attacking the remaining food on his plate as if all would be resolved like magic just to suit him. Everyone and everything, she thought with a shrug of annoyance, must revolve around his needs.
Charity stirred her tea with an agitated motion, watching him serenely chewing the last bit of ham.
He pushed his chair back and stood. “You must excuse me; I’m trying to sort out my uncle’s affairs. When you’ve finished breakfast, come to the library.”
“Very well, my lord.” Charity threw down her napkin and pushed back her chair with a huff. She would take a long turn around the gardens before she went to the library.
The library was empty when she entered. The will laid out for her perusal on the desk. She read through it carefully, even though the manner in which it was written made it difficult to understand. It appeared to be as Robert had said. Charity was not surprised, even at the amount of money and estates involved, only that her godfather had cared so much about her to secure her future.
But couldn’t he merely have left her a small stipend? Why tie her and his nephew together? He was an odd man. That much she remembered. She recalled the strange snuff box he carried far more clearly than him. It was beaten silver with a large pig engraved on it and decorated with a ruby. He’d had it specially made, he’d told her. Why a pig, she’d asked him? A corner of his mouth had quirked, and he’d replied that, unlike humans, pigs were admirable beasts. She hadn’t been sure if he was joking.
Would her husband-to-be prove just as enigmatic? Was it a family trait? She put the document down with an uneasy acceptance of what seemed inevitable.
Charity dressed in her riding habit, sure that Robert would hate it on sight. The olive green cloth had faded, and her hat was outmoded for it had belonged to her mother.
When she met him at the stables, however, he gave her a welcoming smile and made no comment. She smiled back, relieved to have escaped criticism.
Robert provided Charity with a roan mare, and they rode out into a sunny afternoon. She was smitten with the countryside around St Malin. It differed to Oxfordshire in that St Malin held a stiff sea breeze that blew the trees about. Though she thought she’d not like being near the sea, she found she loved its fresh, briny scent and the limitless view it offered, right to the horizon. They trotted through a village of slate-roofed, whitewashed cottages clustered around a small harbour, and into the countryside. Pink and purple heath covered the hills.
Roses tumbled over dry stone walls as they rode down country lanes past fields crisscrossed with hedgerows.
Charity guided her horse after Robert’s through a gap in a hedge onto a wide meadow strewn with golden gorse. It was so pretty that it made her gasp and think how nice it would be to spend time here. Willows grew along the river that wound through it, and in the distance, the crenellated tower of the castle peeped over a band of elms. Thomas Gainsborough himself might have painted it.
A fresh breeze ruffled the leaves of a spreading oak. Robert dismounted and tethered his horse to a branch. “You’ve barely spoken since viewing the will.”
She waited, hardly breathing as he strolled towards her wondering how his hands would feel at her waist. She could feel her body wanting to lean towards his as he reached up to guide her down.
Charity felt the warmth of his large hands after he’d set her on her feet. She looked away, suddenly shy. It seemed intimate and scandalous to be here with him. It excited her to be alone with a man for the first time in her whole life. He seemed so big, so powerfully masculine. He stood so near, she could smell his scent, hear his breathing, and was aware that he watched her.
“If we don’t marry, what will happen to you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Life would go on much as it has done, I expect.”
But would hers? She knew she had no future, not without some kind of generosity on Robert’s part. Could she convince him to do that for her, without meeting the obligation of marriage?
She’d planned to marry for love as she had seen with her parents. This plan of his offered none of the emotional depth she’d expected to have but what if it offered the only choice she had? What sort of existence awaited her, closeted in a mansion alone with servants, while her husband came rarely to see her?
She would be happier with a simpler life. Even a small farm like one of those they’d seen while riding, a thatched roofed cottage with a few cows, pigs, ducks and chickens … And yet, she forced herself to look into his clear blue eyes.
He did not press for her answer, apparently already sure of what it would be. Why would he not be? A woman in her circumstances had little choice, but that didn’t stop her wayward thoughts or her last hope for a future.
“And what of my life? What will happen to me if we do not marry?”
“I can’t answer that with certainty, but I assume…” He spread his hands as though his empty palms reflected the empty life she would surely have. Apparently he would not offer her another option and certainly no stipend.
“Would you prefer I secure you a position in a household nearby? Perhaps as a governess? I know that my neighbor—”
She swallowed hard. “You must ask me properly.”
His brows peaked in surprise. “Very well,” he said with a laugh. Despite her misgivings, Charity smiled. He had a lovely laugh, full-bodied and joyful. She liked him when he laughed; his reserve dropped away. She wanted to hear it again, but was silenced when he solemnly knelt before her.
He gazed up at her a smile on his lips and a twinkle lurking in his eyes. “Charity, will you give me the greatest pleasure of becoming my wife?”
She took a deep breath. Say no, she urged herself. They were very different people. It would not work. She would struggle to measure up to him and probably fail, no matter how hard she tried. There was no love in his smile, just a rather lazy and lustful glance. That smile might set her pulses racing, but she had wanted much more from marriage, hadn’t she? She suspected he would offer financial assistance if she asked for it. Ask for it, her mind urged her. But he gazed at her in such a way that her body wasn’t listening. “I will, my lord.”
“My name is Robert, remember?” His voice carried a seductive tone as he rose and gazed at her mouth. A hot expression entered his eyes and he took a step closer. She swallowed, and resisted the urge to step backwards, suddenly trembling. Did he mean to make love to her? Perhaps even before the marriage vows?
She was so vulnerable, with no one to chaperone her, he might do what he liked with her now. The thought of this was quite shocking, but not entirely unpleasant. He gazed down at her making her feel rather small and fragile. It was all happening so fast. She felt confused, wanting his touch and yet afraid that coming too soon, before she could give herself to him, gladly and with love, it would set the tone of the marriage and irrevocably spoil any chance of a love-match.
“But please allow me to make a demand of my own,” she said, putting out a hand as he leant over her.
He straightened. “And what is that?”
“I need time to get to know you, before we … consummate the marriage.”
He frowned. “How much time?”
She touched her mouth with her fingers. “It’s hard to say. When we get to know each other better.”
“I am nothing but a gentleman. I bow to your wishes.” He made her an elaborate bow. When he raised his head, she saw something in his eyes. Was it a flicker of frustration?
“Why do you ask me to call you Robert?” She sought to change the subject and lighten the mood a little. “Don’t ladies call their husbands by their ti
tle or surname?”
His gaze returned to her mouth. “Perhaps I like to hear you say it, and see your lips form my name.”
It was the first flirtatious thing he’d said, and it sent a thrill racing through her. Sure that he was teasing her again, she said, “Robert,” to see what would happen. With another question on her lips, he caught her to him and silenced her with a kiss.
His lips felt cool and soft, sliding across hers. His arm tightened around her. She felt engulfed by him and had to admit she liked it. Her breath caught and her whole body felt odd. How extraordinary it was, how natural and intimate. She enjoyed the smell of him, musk, leather and male. She’d never been clasped in a man’s arms. It was not a peck like her father might have given her, but a deeply probing kiss which stirred in her body unfamiliar and very pleasant feelings, a yearning low in her stomach and a strange tension in her thighs; even her nipples tingled. When he pulled away, she almost staggered and reached out to him. Dropping her hands to her sides, she tried to gain some measure of calm acceptance, as if this was an everyday occurrence, while hoping he would kiss her again.
Apparently he didn’t feel the need for it, or the desire, for he merely smiled and turned away to untie the horses. She glanced shyly at him from under the brim of her hat as he gave her a leg up into the saddle. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts as he mounted and reined in alongside her. They rode back to the castle, with Charity reliving the feeling of his arms around her and his mouth on hers. She had wanted to gain his respect, to make him understand that he could not take everything he wanted from her, but she already regretted making such a demand. If she’d known how much she’d enjoyed him kissing her, she might not have said it.
But to take it back now would not only make her seem foolish, it would give him carte blanche to do with her what he wanted. And while that caused her to suffer a shiver of anticipation, it might not be wise.
“We’ll have to arrange for a new wardrobe of clothes for you,” he said glancing over at her attire. “A marchioness cannot appear in society looking poverty-stricken. I would be viewed poorly by the ton.”
“Not to mention my embarrassment, my lord,” Charity said, stinging tears forming in her eyes. She was right. He was angry with her. Well, now she was angry with him. She was glad she’d refused him his rights.
He turned to look at her. “I don’t mean to offend you, Charity. Surely you must agree.”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Exactly. Let’s give these horses a gallop.”
The gallop was exactly what they both needed. He rode ahead on his strong stallion and she was left to admire how well he appeared in the saddle. His seat was truly admirable. She wondered in how many things did he excel. Random thoughts wandered from the playing of an instrument to his prowess in the bedchamber and heated her face. She was glad of the fresh cooling sea breeze as she approached the bridge where Robert waited for her.
A gabble rose from the ducks and swans crowding beneath the willow fronds on the river. When she joined him again, she said, “Where will home be?”
He tipped back his hat with a finger. “Do you know I haven’t given it much thought? I don’t wish to live here, do you?”
Delighted to be asked, she said, “I don’t mind where I live.”
But not alone. “I love it here, are the other choices as charming?”
He looked relieved. “You may choose between here and Hertfordshire if you wish. The house there is far more comfortable. I shall spend most of my time in London. You are welcome to enjoy the Season there as I’ve said.”
He had said it as an afterthought and he’d rather she didn’t.
Charity clenched her jaw, longing to give him a crushing set-down. “Perhaps I’ll live in Italy,” she said, tossing her head, and was pleased when he swivelled to stare at her.
“Italy?” he queried, drawing his mount alongside hers.
“If I’m to spend most of my time alone, I fancy Italy shall suit my needs splendidly. I believe it has a pleasant climate, and the people are warm. The men especially.” She urged her horse ahead of him and left him to mull over what she had said, relishing the surprised glance he had cast her.
The next day, Robert departed for Doctors Commons, planning to return with the special license in about a sennight. She was left to ponder if he enjoyed escaping back to London and what he would do whilst there.
“Why, thank you, James. I believe you know what I want before I do.” Charity smiled at the footman who had hurried to fetch her hat and shawl as she came down the stairs.
The sandy-haired man bowed as a flush of pleasure coloured his cheeks. People were so nice in this part of the country. Hoping to delay things a little, Charity had suggested to Robert that they might have the banns read in the local church. He explained they would also have to be read in her parish and the whole thing would take far too long.
In Robert’s absence, Charity investigated the castle. The library was her favourite room; it smelled of old tomes and made her think of her home in Oxfordshire. She spent many hours there, reading by the fire with Felix stretched out beside her.
The panelled Great Hall was so big and empty it echoed with the sound of her footsteps. It had a high buttressed ceiling and was large enough for the grandest ball with a minstrel gallery for an orchestra, and she could imagine ladies and gentlemen performing a country dance. Perhaps one day they would again as hers and Robert’s guests. The thought sent an anxious shudder through her. There were so many bedchambers she couldn’t count them, most furnished in heavy mahogany. Her chamber was one of the best, although Robert’s was larger.
Would she join him there? Another anxious shudder followed the first. The breakfast room was another favourite, a sunny room overlooking the sea. Leaving the rounded walls of the castle shaped like the petals of a rose, she ventured farther along a balustraded walk, finding it led to the formal gardens to the north of the castle. Clipped yew hedges bordered the path.
Bees buzzed among the roses along the sun-warmed stone walls. She turned back before she reached the majestic trees of the deer park, promising she would investigate further on horseback.
As the days passed, her wanderings led her back to the foreshore. She began collecting interesting pieces of driftwood that took her fancy and soon had quite a collection. It might have been the clement weather, but she began to feel at home here. On her first day alone, the cook had sent the kitchen maid to enquire if there was anything special she fancied for her dinner. She thought it kind when she wasn’t yet the mistress of the house, and sent Rebecca with praise for the meal, saying his lobster in cream sauce was a triumph. Encouraged by her praise, each subsequent meal had outshone the last. The footman, James, danced attendance on her, quite spoiling her and yet knowing when not to intrude on her thoughts. She must tell Robert what a treasure he was.
Robert arrived back in Curzon Street, and after a change of clothes rushed out again. It was close to ten of the clock, and he’d left his friends after dinner. They were planning to visit White’s to join the gambling tables, and later to be entertained by opera dancers.
The maid opened the door for him and he entered Anastasia’s boudoir where she sat at her mirror.
He rested his hand on his mistress’s slender shoulder. She was applying a patch to her cheek. “You are going out?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you to be back in London for some time, Robert.”
“I know.” He eased himself into an uncomfortable chair with spindly gilt legs. “I’m here in London to obtain a special license.”
Her eyes met his in the mirror. “You are marrying her then.”
“I have little choice in the matter. It’s what my uncle wished.”
“But your uncle has died.” She shrugged. “What is she like?”
“An unaffected country girl.”
“How gauche.”
“Gauche? No, I wouldn’t say that.” He found Charity rather refreshing but
felt it imprudent to say so.
Anastasia rose from the chair, revealing a naked thigh. Robert stood too studying her flowing fair hair and graceful, slender body, barely covered by a silk wrap. He marveled again at her likeness to his first love, Millicent Burrowdale.
She placed a hand on his chest and moved it downwards. “But is she pretty?”
He scowled. “I don’t intend to discuss my future wife with you.”
Her hand reached its destination, and his manhood jumped under her practiced fingers. “Pooh. Can she do what I can do, for you?”
“I very much doubt it.” Robert picked her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. “We shall go on much as we did before, shan’t we?”
She watched him strip away her robe and bend to kiss a breast. “If you wish it.”
“Oh, I do. I do wish it.”
Robert had been gone almost two weeks when Charity wandered over to the water’s edge accompanied by Felix, who had become her loyal companion. She stood with her gown whipping around her, watching a majestic tall ship far out to sea. The dog gave a bark and took off at a run, and she turned to see Robert crossing the rocks towards her. Her ribs constricted, and a flush of heat rose to her face at the sight of him. He had come to find her, still wearing his grey greatcoat, striding out in fawn breeches and black boots. He swept off his cocked hat. He was just as handsome as she remembered. As she took in every detail of him, a lock of hair blew across her face. She tucked it behind an ear with trembling fingers and wondered again if she could make him a good wife.
“I thought you were my faithful escort, Felix,” she remonstrated when the dog returned to dance around her legs. It gave her time to regain her composure. “I believe your friendship to be false.” Felix barked and joyfully returned to his master, gaining his attention.
“My uncle believed animals were never false.” He rose from patting the dog, a smile lighting his blue eyes. “What have you there?” Was he pleased to see her too?
She held out a piece of flotsam from some sunken ship.
“Nature has wrought a work of art. It has the look of a horse jumping a fence or some such, do you see?”
The Reluctant Marquess Page 3
