Why would he write back to her? She had apologized and thanked him via letter, and it seemed that he felt, their communication was at an end. He did not want to see her. If he did, he would have sent word. He had been so masterful in saving her father. Charity realized she wanted more than a simple letter of acknowledgement. She wanted to see him again, but he obviously did not want to see her. He did not call. Perhaps he would never forgive her. The thought made her distraught.
Michael had become ever more attentive to her, and it seemed that after the fiasco with her father, her mother was willing to accept any gentleman who Charity accepted. Charity did her best to get to know more of Michael. He would make a steady husband. He was practical and smart, but Charity could not help but think that it was rare to see him smile.
She made it her objective to show Michael how to enjoy himself. Once or twice she almost succeeded. Almost. She found herself comparing Michael’s serious attitude to Lord Wentwell’s happy one. No. She reminded herself. She would not think of Wentwell. If Lord Wentwell had wanted to see her, he would have answered her letter. Nonetheless, Charity found herself wishing she had not told her mother that she was considering Michael Poppy. That decision was also hasty. Her mother and the Poppy sisters were practically planning their wedding.
It occurred to Charity that she tended to make hasty poor decisions. She flew off the handle when taking a moment to consider might be a better choice. Hasty words had hurt her possible relationship with Lord Wentwell, and there was nothing she could do to fix that. Hasty words had also hurt her friendship with Lady Amelia Atherton, and that issue had been sitting unresolved for almost a year. She could not repair the relationship with Lord Wentwell, but perhaps she could talk to Amelia. That would make her feel better she decided.
~.~
Neville was certain that keeping a distance from Lady Charity Abernathy was the best course of action. She was too fine of a lady to be associated with one of his reputation especially after walking unattended through the musicale in the park. Rumor was not yet rife, but it could be re-ignited. There were moments when he wished it were not so, but there was naught that could be done for it now.
He knew he was a gentleman at heart. He would never truly ruin a lady of the Ton. Such were the sisters and daughters of his peers in parliament. Still, he had played his games; he engaged in witty banter and shocked the ladies, but he had never thought ruin would follow such action, until Miss Danbury, and Miss Macrum. He could lay at least part of the blame at their feet, but he was not innocent. He had flirted with both. He had played his part well and all the Ton knew him as a rake and nothing else.
When Miss Danbury’s father had come to speak with him about her dalliance with his stablemaster he had been shocked. He had promised to do what he could to protect the lady. He had never once thought that the Ton would tangle him in the embroilment.
It was now clear that Miss Macrum had dangled before his brother, but it was truly him she wished to catch, and Miss Danbury had no interest in either of them. Her passion for horses, was actually a passion for the master of the horse. He had been so blind, but when Miss Danbury’s father approached him, he had thought only to protect Miss Danbury’s reputation for the sake of her family. Her father hoped, that if she were not with child, a lesser match may be made next season. Neville did not even know if a child was possible, only that his stablemaster had come to him later in the hopes of marrying the woman, and he had dismissed the man out of hand. Such dishonorable behavior was not welcome in his household.
Now Neville’s own besmirched reputation had scattered the available ladies from him. It hurt to think that what he thought of as a game, had turned so serious. The Ton had convicted him of his crimes without judge or jury and he knew it was his own fault. He had embraced the libertine attitude because the ladies liked the danger, until it was real, in the sense of Miss Danbury. Then they avoided him like a leper. He had no recourse. He had cultivated the reputation. He could not shed it now.
He could of course wait a few years. The rumor would die down eventually, and he was not a female who needed to marry by a certain age. He could wait. The problem was, he knew that Lady Charity would not, and he had determined that it was Lady Charity he wanted for his wife. Why was it then, when he had played this game so well, he now found himself stalemated?
At first Lady Charity seemed determined to speak to him. She even wrote him a letter when her mother prevented any further interaction between the pair. Neville chose not to reply. He knew not what to say anyway. He could not be honest, for Lady Charity had already seen too much for him to allow her to learn more of his true person. To give her so much would be to give what he gave to Katherine. It would be heartache all over again. He held Lady Charity’s letter in his hands and considered. He could write back to her, only what would he say? Was it fair to tie her name with his now? She would be suspect as soon as he did so, and he did not want to besmirch her reputation.
He could no longer play the game with her, because, he realized his heart was involved. Neither did he wish to deceive her by replying with a false pretense. So he had said nothing.
Now, he watched her from afar. Neville was certain that his observations went unnoticed. All, save his good friend Reginald, were oblivious to his interest in the lady. Reginald had a keen eye and was also the only person, save Samuel Beresford, who knew the truth of that day in the park.
Reg had encouraged his friend to be out with the truth of his feelings, but Neville thought that might only make the situation all the more confusing. At least, this way, Lady Charity could go on with her life without being mixed up in the mess of his. When Reg informed him that something of a courtship had developed between Lady Charity and Michael Poppy, Neville feigned disinterest.
Observation revealed that the pair was spending a great deal of time together. Lady Charity seemed to be focusing all of her attention on drawing the quiet fellow out of his shell. Her mother, for whatever reason, did not disapprove of the match. This would have been surprising except for the fact that Wentwell assumed the approval had something to do with ensuring that her daughter avoided him.
Lady Charity’s mother was a shrewd woman with a keen eye. She would shepherd her daughter through life in order to achieve her own means, but she would not choose Michael Poppy. The family had little in the way of assets. No, Lady Shalace would not choose Michael, not unless the Lady Charity truly cared for the man. If that was the life she wanted for herself, why should he stand in the way?
A fire burned in his blood as he thought of her with Michael Poppy. He wanted her for himself, that was why, but he said nothing. He had no right to do so. To even be seen with her now, would bring dishonor upon her. Still the thought of her with Michael hurt.
Neville shook the image from his mind. He should not be so concerned with what Lady Charity wanted. It was clear that it could not, would not be him. This was for the best. He had no intention of marrying. He had done a kindness for the girl by leaving her alone. As the days passed he continued to keep his distance but, try as he might, he could never convince himself to stop watching and listening for her movements.
~.~
Lady Charity and Flora Muirwood were walking in the late afternoon upon the arms of the Poppy brothers. They had spent nearly every afternoon this week strolling through the extensive gardens that peppered the streets of Bath. Each day they chose a new route and, while it was meant to be different, Charity feared that this might be all that was left for her entertainment for the rest of her days. Charity tried to imagine what her life would be like if she were married to Michael and Flora were married to James. She had a hard time imagining the picture with appeal.
“Lady Charity,” Michael drew her attention and then offered the same type of blue flower that he plucked every day for the past two weeks to offer for her pleasure. He had said that it brought out the color of her eyes. Perhaps that was so, but Charity could not help but long for more variety. Michael was a
ll too predictable. She wondered if there was something that might be done about that. Perhaps she just needed to teach him how to be more spontaneous.
“Michael,” she began with breathy excitement. The prospect of something different had renewed her energy. “Look! There is a path just there that we have not tried. We should take it and see where it might lead.”
Michael looked around in an attempt to locate Flora and James. They were a ways ahead and not at all missing their companions.
To Charity’s surprise, Michael agreed.
The path was overgrown to the point that Charity could not make out the trail more than a handful of yards ahead of them. The trees formed a canopy overhead. The reprieve from the grasping fingers of the sun was a relief. Charity lowered her parasol and allowed the breeze to tickle he neck with the strands of hair that had escaped her neat chignon.
“Lady Charity,” Michael stepped in front of her so that she might stop walking. He appeared distraught and Charity wondered if something were the matter.
“I have told you, you may call me Charity,” she replied. If she was planning on marrying the fellow, she should be able to call him by his given name, and he hers. She took a deep breath. She could do this.
“C-Charity,” Michael said, but her name did not roll off of his tongue with ease. He was more comfortable with formal address, even with those with whom he was close.
“What is it, Michael?” she asked. There was a fine line of perspiration upon his brow and she wondered if he was ill. She asked as much, but he just shook his head. Perhaps it was just the heat making him look so green.
“It is only,” he began but allowed his words to trail away, his sentence unfinished.
Buck up, man, she thought uncharitably, and then she said with more patience. “What did you wish to say, Michael?” See, called him by his given name. It was not so hard. Lead by example, she told herself.
Michael still stood, tongue tied, biting his lip. She could make no sense of his behavior. Charity had learned that Michael Poppy did well with clear instruction. “Speak your piece,” she demanded.
As predicted, he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and began again with what confidence he could muster.
“Lady …” he grimaced when she gave him a pointed look. “Charity,” he amended. “Our families have known one another for many years…”
“Yes,” she nodded. “That, they have.”
“I know that you have long thought of me as a cousin.” For the first time Michael seemed uncomfortable. His loss for words was uncharacteristic because Charity had never known him to speak without great thought and preparation.
“Your family has always been very dear to me,” she confirmed.
“Yes,” Michael turned so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder looking our across the lush greenery. He seemed more comfortable if he was not looking directly at her. “It is for that reason that I wished to speak with you.”
Charity had suspected for some time that they were approaching this conversation, yet she felt that it was far too soon. She had come to know Michael more. Of course they had seen each other often these past weeks. However, he still seemed an enigma. Each moment that she expected to break open his shell to reveal the layers beneath, she found yet another shell. He remained cool and collected, unswayable. Charity was certain that there was more to Michael Poppy than he let on, but she could not seem to access him. Perhaps one day she hoped that this conversation would bring her excitement, now it brought nothing but dread.
“I would like to speak with you about a very serious matter,” Michael began as if he were about to negotiate the sale of one of their prized hunters. “It is a matter that I believe you will agree is the next logical path.”
“Michael…” Charity stopped herself from rejecting him outright. Was this not the ultimate goal? Even though she had not come to know as much as she would like about this gentleman, she would have her entire life to get to know him. Her intent for spending so much time at his side was to eventually reach this conversation. Then why did she feel as if she wished he had not spoken, or that they had not taken this isolated walk down the path.
“Lady Charity,” his confidence seemed to increase when he was able to stick to his formal address. “I should like to ask your permission to speak with your father.”
“Michael, I…”
“I know that he has not been well,” Michael continued. “I have said nothing to save you the shame.”
“Thank you,” Charity said tightly. Yes, he had saved them embarrassment, but why did she not feel the same gratitude as she felt when Lord Wentwell had protected her?
“I shall have to speak to your eldest male cousin then as well, to ensure that the decision is agreed upon by one of sound reason,” Michael continued.
Charity felt her hackles rise. “My cousin,” she said. They had gone to great lengths to keep the news of her father’s demise from her cousin. Still, she knew that he meant no insult, but this she could not allow.
“My cousin has nothing to do with me, or my marriage,” Charity said haughtily.
“But as the one who will eventually hold the earldom, I think he does.” Michael was merely stating the facts.
Even Charity could not argue the truth. However, she felt protective as she listened to him speak of her father’s ineptitude. She could not allow him to continue. “Stop,” she said. “My cousin has no say in my marriage. My father and perhaps my mother does, but no other.”
“I am not as wealthy as I believe your mother to hope,” he continued. “However, I have a keen sense of business and will do all in my power to continue your happiness.”
“Business!” Charity interjected surprised.
“I know I am not wealthy, but with a bit of capital to fund a new shipping business, I believe that can all change. I shall be wealthy one day.”
“Michael,” Charity said. “It is not for wealth that I care to marry.”
“I am pleased to hear that, though I assure you that my income is nothing to be ashamed about, and it will grow.”
She realized that Michael had taken her statement as encouragement. Charity tried to remind herself that she should be encouraging him. Is this not exactly what she had wanted? The image of Lord Wentwell flashed through her mind and Charity was ashamed of the thought of another man at a moment like this.
The betrayal of her mind renewed her determination to focus on Michael. Perhaps that is what she needed to give her the final push to accept his offer. She felt sick at the thought. Perhaps the heat was too much for her.
“Lady Charity,” Michael raised his chin, his face stoic, and Charity half expected him to offer to shake her hand, if only he did not have his own hands stuck behind his back.
“I also am of the belief that a union of our pair would be most fortuitous, and I will argue for its execution. If you, and of course your father, will consent, I would like to make you my wife.”
She couldn’t do it. She could not say yes. She felt as if her tongue had cleaved to the roof of her mouth. She had wanted this, hadn’t she? She would be sister to all of the Poppys. She would be sister to James, and to Flora. She would not be lonely. She would have a big family, and of course, money would be no issue. She may even be able to help with the younger Poppys’ dowries. It would be the perfect solution.
“There is much to consider…” Charity replied when she finally found her voice.
“I have already weighed the options and I do believe that we would make a steady pair.”
“A steady pair…” Charity repeated. Her determination was dwindling with every word he uttered. Was there not meant to be a proclamation of love? What of a promise of the future, a family, and years of wedded bliss? Were these things not to be spoken upon their engagement?
“Do you love me?” Charity blurted, much as she had asked James if he had loved Flora.
“I…” Michael appeared to be caught off guard by her question. He soon coll
ected himself. “I believe that we shall get on well enough. In fact, couples that get on well often develop a deep sense of love and respect for one another.”
“Develop…” she murmured. Then he did not, at this very moment, love her. Yet, he thought he could.
“Is it not too soon to know?” Charity asked. “Are we not to be certain before making a vow?”
Her companion found his own voice, which was suddenly quite forceful. “I have found no flaw and do believe that the depth of our emotion shall increase with time. I do believe that we might call this love, at some point, for I do care for you, and I am sure I shall not find another such as you.”
“Such as me,” she repeated. Someone with so much money, she wondered, or someone with physical attributes like passing beauty and youth. Charity thought over his words. They were nice enough but did nothing to make her wish to rush to the altar.
“If you would agree, I would announce our engagement,” he said.
“Why now?” she asked. “Why not wait until we are certain? How can you be so sure when we still have much to learn about one another?”
“There are two reasons that I might provide,” Michael began. Charity was shocked at his rational approach. Did he have any emotion in him? He would answer her question so that she might see, and agree with, his logic. “The first is that I can see no logical reason to delay. We shall make a fine match in every manner. I do not see how these facts will change with additional time. We might get to know each other more, but our compatibility will remain.”
Charity nodded but pressed her lips together in a tight line. Was that not exactly what she was supposed to be thinking? If the aim was to wed Mr. Poppy, then what would a few more weeks or months matter?
“…and your second reason?” she asked.
“The second, I must admit, is perhaps the most significant factor as to the speed of my determination.” Michael turned to Charity and, while most men would have at least had the decency to appear shamed for the admission, Michael stated the fact as if it were nothing more than the arrival of the weekly chronicle. “My mother is anxious for me to wed. You know she is quite forceful. I had thought to gain a wife before the leaves turn color in the fall. The sooner, the better, I think. Mother would like it best if I made my choice before the month’s end so that we might begin preparations at once. Then our wedding could coincide with my sisters’ seasons, and we could save some expense, and since my choice is obvious I can find no reason to delay.”
The Deceptive Earl: Lady Charity Abernathy: A Regency Romance Novel Page 17