He thought back over the hours since Charlotte had gone missing as, according to the Templetons, had he. No one, other than the men sitting with him now, had seen him during that time. If he made an appearance in public while Charlotte remained out of sight in order to heal, his name would not be linked with scandal, but it would seal the smear on hers. Unless...
His lips shifted into an ironic smile.
It would cause a scandal.
He’d spent more than half his life rigidly adhering to the mandates of society, but scandal mongers never rested and did not care about truth. Nor did they care about what was truly right or wrong. Providing a means for Lady Dalton to escape her husband had been right... just as his father's sense of responsibility to both his sons had been right. Certainly, saving Charlotte's reputation rose above the socially correct course he'd plotted for his life and was the right thing to do.
Inspiration doused the angry fire that had eaten at his insides since Charlotte’s abduction.
He would do it.
"How much of a reward is he offering?" Lucien asked.
All three men looked disconcertedly at him and then each other.
"A hundred quid." Norcross finally answered. "Did Dalton–?"
"No." Lucien said firmly.
His friends visibly relaxed. "Then why did you ask?"
"I wondered how much he was willing to chance on so questionable an answer. Does one trust the word of a man who would tryst and tell for reward? He would certainly not be a gentleman to do so." He raised an eyebrow and added, "Though if the lady were wed, the answer would be obvious, would it not?"
If he had not shocked them with his first question, he did so with his second.
"It occurs to me that the time it would take to travel to Scotland and back would be ample time for Charlotte’s bruises to fade." Lucien stood and leaned his hands on the desk. "It is the only logical solution.” He grinned. “You may wish me well, my friends. I am about to become leg-shackled."
"YOU HAVE DECIDED what?" Charlotte clutched the arm of the drawing room chair where Lucien had seated her.
"We shall take the journey in short stages so as not to tax your strength, of course." His expression was one of smug pride that he had hit upon such a witty—make that witless–plan to save her from ruin.
A ball of something tight and hot formed in her throat. She forced herself to take a breath. "You expect me to agree to an elopement in order to save my reputation from Lady Templeton and the betting books of Whites?"
For weeks Charlotte had fought the secret yearning that Lucien’s kisses had been more than fleeting temptation. After he'd rescued her from Dalton and had treated her so gently, she'd foolishly allowed herself to hope he might care for her on a deeper level. But to elope?
She'd never imagined he would make such a suggestion– for it was not an offer. An offer meant banns and betrothal balls, St. Georges, and wedding breakfasts. Elopements meant scandal and disapproval and sly questions for months following the return of the couple—if they dared return to polite society at all. He could not seriously believe she would agree.
Besides, Lucien hated scandal.
She blinked away the sting of tears as her gaze flittered around at the crowd in the room. He had not so much as granted her the courtesy of a private audience.
The duchess and Anne smiled encouragingly though their eyes darted between her and Lucien with concern. Elizabeth and Sarah eyed her with wary sympathy. The three gentlemen she had so recently thanked for helping to free her looked between themselves, not quite able to meet her gaze at all.
The ball of heat at her throat expanded, until fury drove it outward and her fingers curled into fists.
Humiliation burned deep and she narrowed her eyes.
"Absolutely not," she declared.
Lucien's eyes widened in shock, then his eyebrows drew together, and his broad smile flattened. "You can't mean that. You would have my protection and respectability. It is the most logical solution to the situation."
"I shall not be a situation." Charlotte said. The stinging in her eyes turned into angry tears. She dashed them away and pushed up from the chair. "As I said before, I’ll claim a fall down the stairs and dare the Lady Templetons to malign me to my face.” She turned toward the door. “I shall return to my room, now. I feel the need to apply a cold compress on my eye so that I may look at the dragons directly when I relate my accidental fall."
Elizabeth and Sarah started to join her, but she waived them off. With as much dignity as she could muster, she made her painful way out of the room and up the stairs. Once in her room she sank down on the bed and let the tears fall freely.
LUCIEN WATCHED CHARLOTTE leave the drawing room with a sense of disbelief.
Not just no or, No, thank you, but absolutely not.
What's more, she had looked insulted to be offered marriage and respectability. Wasn't marriage the reason why she'd come to London in the first place? He, on the other hand, had planned to wait until Rowena married before choosing a wife. If he was willing to change his timetable to protect her name, how was that an insult?
He became aware of the absolute silence behind him. Not only had she refused him, she had done so in front of his family and friends. Heat climbed his neck, rose to his ears and fired his cheeks.
"I believe Miss Longborough was caught off guard," Clarehaven's voice held a note of amusement.
"Perhaps it was the pressure of so many witnesses," Ravencliffe suggested. "I shall take my leave."
"I shall be appropriately surprised or sympathetic, whichever scenario prevails," Norcross said as he moved toward the doorway with Ravencliffe. "A note, perhaps, would allow me to react accordingly."
"Perhaps we should retire," his stepmother said. "It has been a trying day for all of us."
Lucien turned around. No one made eye contact with him but his sister, and it was not a friendly eye.
"Charlotte doesn't want to be a noble duty." A note of disgust colored her words. "She deserves more than that." Then she stepped up and gave him a hug. "You both deserve more than that." She turned and followed the others out the door.
Lucien sank into the nearest chair. Noble duty? Marriage would save Charlotte's reputation. If that was noble duty, how was that wrong? It was the right thing to do, and he would have sworn Charlotte would agree. It made sense. She responded to his kisses, so he did not repulse her– and she had shared her family secrets, which meant she trusted him. He frowned as the clock struck ten o'clock.
He had come to her rescue, damn it.
CHARLOTTE WIPED AWAY her tears and took stock of her options. She admitted she had very few, but she was determined to defy the gossips. Particularly Lady Templeton. She would write notes to Lady Jane and Lady Millicent describing the terrible tumble she’d had down the stairs and assure them that she would rejoin the social scene once her injuries were less hideous to look at. At least that way it would not be such a shock when she did appear in public again.
When she finished, and had the footman take them downstairs for the morning post, she sat by the fire and wondered if that would be enough. She’d just begun to doze when Martha, Anne's maid, knocked on her door. "His Grace asks that you join him in the library, miss... if you will." She curtsied. “I am to assist you down the stairs.”
She knew he would try to change her mind. Not because he wanted to marry her. He didn’t want to marry anyone for years to come. Not until both his sisters were married and settled. Everyone knew that.
She stood with Martha’s help, and accepted her arm for support as she reluctantly left the room. She moved slowly, as much as to delay the meeting as to spare her battered body. She didn’t want to speak to him again tonight, but there seemed no point in delaying matters.
When she reached the library, she found him standing by the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand and bottle with a second glass on the table.
"I am sorry to have called you down when you made it clear you
would prefer to be alone." He nodded to the maid and she left the room. “But I did not feel it right to come to your room.”
He stepped over to the table and raised an eyebrow in question while at the same time inviting her to have a seat on the settee in front of the fire. "Would you care for a glass of wine?"
Charlotte preferred to keep her wits about her but saw the advantage of having something to do with her hands, so she took the offered glass and studied the deep red color so she would not have to look at Lucien.
He took the seat at the other end of the settee, and for several seconds, said nothing. When he finally spoke, the quiet, bewildered note in the question made her raise her gaze to meet his. "Why not, Charlotte?”
What she saw was a vulnerability she'd never seen in him before.
"When you first came to London you had a list of gentlemen– strangers– you were willing to consider for marriage. You told me you wished to see if they would suit, but I got the impression you would have taken any respectable offer so long as the man was not offensive, would not treat you or your family background with disrespect, and would bring you an established title. I flatter myself that I fit those criteria. So, why absolutely not?"
Did he honestly not see how abhorrent his plan was to someone who had done nothing of which to be ashamed? Silence stretched and she finally said, "I wonder if I can make you understand how humiliating it is to be a situation to be solved, and not a woman to be desired as a wife?"
She looked away, unable to let him see how much it hurt to admit that fact. "Yes, I came to find a match– a love match. And, yes, I had a list. I believed it would be as easy to fall in love with a titled gentleman as an untitled one. Whomever I married, however, would care for me and I for him."
"And what if no one ever met your criteria for what caring—love—is,” he asked. “Would you deny yourself a woman's place in life? Would you deny yourself children? Would you deny yourself the security of marriage for a dream of some perfect scenario?"
Charlotte looked back up at him and he held her gaze, not blinking, as though the steadiness of his gaze could force her to tell him the truth.
"I don't know," she finally admitted. "This is my first Season. I knew I might not make a match this year.” She sighed. “Elizabeth didn’t. In fact, it is why I made the list. I did not expect to meet every eligible gentleman in a single Season."
His gaze did not waver. Hers did.
She took a nervous sip of her wine then admitted, "I suppose, in time, I might have settled for affection if not love... if there were no other option."
"Charlotte, there is no other option.”
Lucien sat forward and caught her freed hand in his. “If we do not marry, you will be ruined. There will be no introductions to eligible men for respectable connections. There will be no genteel, comfortable life for a woman whose reputation has been savaged by the Marsburns and Templetons of society.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “It is not your fault, but it will be your fate if we do not marry.”
He spoke softly and shifted until their knees touched. “As for affection, I believe we have formed a friendship of sorts. I believe you are comfortable with me. How is this option different from what you might have accepted in two or three years had you not found a love match?"
Charlotte struggled to find the words to explain. "Duty is not comfort, it is an obligation. It mixes gratitude and resentment into an already unequal bargain.” She twisted the stem of the wine glass in her hands. “I cannot be an obligation. Nor will I bring more whispers and ridicule to your door.”
"Then it is the idea of additional scandal and the belief that I see you as a duty, and not my person, that you refuse?" Lucien took the wine glass from her and put in on the table beside him. " Let me tell you something I have recently learned. Duty and honor are not obligations, they are the very foundation of what makes a person's life meaningful."
He took her hands and coaxed her closer, then lifted them to his lips. "You are proof of that. It is not duty or honor that drive you to rescue living things." He kissed her fingertips a second time. "You care and are honorable through that caring. You don’t expect gratitude or obligation. You don't resent your role in it. You don’t do it because it is honorable but because you need to make things right."
He lifted his hand to slide gentle fingertips along her jaw and his eyes never left hers. "If you will have me,” His finger traced her swollen lip. “I’ll not expect gratitude or obligation. I’ll not resent my role in it. Yes, I want to make things right... But most of all I want to marry you because I want to." He whispered. “And not only for propriety.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of hers as lightly as a butterfly wing. "I would have banns read and do things in full celebration if it were possible, Charlotte. I would get a special license and marry you from the drawing room if I did not suspect the cleric would reveal the physical trauma you have suffered. No one would believe your injuries to be the result of a fall. They are too numerous and severe.”
He kissed her lips again, still taking care not to cause her pain. “An elopement is not the way I would see it done, but it is the only way I can see to do it." He took a deep breath. "Run away with me, Charlotte. If we are to face scandal, let us make it worthwhile and make Marshburn pay for the privilege.” He grinned when that made her sit up and look at him in surprise. “We can make it work."
His grin nearly convinced her. Charlotte could not deny the sincerity in the clear blue eyes that had captured her attention from the first moment he'd looked at her.
Despite her assertion that she would face down Lady Templeton, she knew he spoke the truth. There would be no respectable offers once the gossips had savaged her reputation. Her only choices were a scandalous marriage that would fuel tittering whispers or a return home and the ruin of both her sisters' dreams as well as her own. She really did have no choice.
Lucien believed the promises he'd just made. He liked her and was kind enough to care what happened to her. Dared she hope his affection would turn to love? She swallowed her pride and prayed he meant what he said, and he would not come to resent their marriage... or her.
"Very well."
CHAPTER 30
Charlotte looked around the back hall and decided hers must be the oddest elopement ever undertaken. The only clandestine factor in their run-away marriage was the lateness of the hour and the closed carriage waiting behind the house to avoid the notice of neighbors.
As soon as she had agreed to his proposal, Lucien summoned Timmons and gave instructions that the carriage be readied within the hour. He insisted she remain in the library while he informed the duchess that Charlotte had seen reason. The duchess supervised her maid as she packed Charlotte’s things and roused the rest of the family. While his valet packed his things, Lucien had written notes to Ravencliffe, Clarehaven, Norcross, as well as his solicitors.
"We shall host a ball in your honor when you return.” The duchess assured her while Lucien checked that all was ready. “Once you are Lucien's duchess all will be as it should be, for I believe the two of you will suit each other well."
Everything was happening too fast and Charlotte feared they would overlook something important, though she could not say what that was. She turned to her sisters. "You must write to Papa and Uncle Aubrey so they won’t be alarmed if they hear of this," she told Elizabeth. "You'll have to walk Harry and be sure to have the dirt in–"
"We have cared for your rescued animals before," Elizabeth told her. "We know what to do."
She took Charlotte’s arm and turned her away from the others. Her face flushed before she lowered her voice so Sarah would not hear. "I am more concerned to know if you understand what to do– what to... expect?" She shot a quick look at Lucien who was directing the footman as he tied a trunk to the back of the carriage. "Perhaps you should speak with the duchess for a few minutes before leaving?"
Charlotte felt her face heat as she whi
spered. "Do you remember what Anne told us about the naughty books in the library?" Elizabeth gave her a startled look. "The one I read was quite detailed." Charlotte's face flamed hotter. "I am willing to discover if it was accurate."
"I thought she was teasing us." Elizabeth's eyes lost their worried expression and her mouth relaxed into a genuine smile. "Perhaps I should explore the library myself."
She kissed Charlotte’s cheek when Lucien came to take her arm and lead her to the waiting carriage. "Be happy, Love."
Inside the carriage, Charlotte found that Lucien had provided several pillows and a thick quilt to ease the discomfort of the long trip. There was also a black cloak and widow's veil. She would use them to hide her bruises until they faded. He took the opposite bench seat then tapped the roof of the carriage and the coach lurched forward.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry our beginning must be hasty and that it isn’t the celebratory occasion ladies dream of, but I hope we’ll find things to celebrate nonetheless.”
"It is my wish as well." Charlotte looked away, flustered and embarrassed. "Though I know not what to say for the moment. I believe I’m still somewhat in a daze."
"Don’t worry about that now," Lucien said as he unfolded the quilt and settled it over her shoulders. "You have had little sleep in the last two days and the trip is tiring even when one is in the best of health. I suggest you rest."
Charlotte burrowed under the quilt and adjusted the pillow against the wall of the carriage then closed her eyes. Tired as she was, she didn't want to sleep, but for the first time since meeting Lucien, Charlotte found she had no idea what to say to him. How could she hold a conversation when he was to be her husband? All she could think of was that he would soon expect her to share his bed and engage in the activities pictured in the naughty book. What could she say to him, knowing what they would be doing? Her mind chased her questions round and around in circles. In time, she did fall asleep.
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