Charlotte

by Virginia Taylor

  “I have a small gift for you,” he said as she turned. He handed her a square, green sharkskin box.

  Inside she found a gold bracelet inset with onyx and pearls, the perfect match for her gown. Her delighted smile wavered under his expression of courteous interest, and she confined herself to briefly touching his hand in appreciation of his thoughtful gesture. With her smile rivaling his for emptiness, she presented her wrist around which he fastened the piece.

  Sarah knocked on her door. She looked pert and pretty in her light blue gown. “Look,” she said, lifting the soft curls in front of her ears to reveal pearl earrings. “Oh, there you are, Nick. I don’t know how you knew I wanted these, but they’re perfect. I’ll have to knit you a waistcoat in appreciation.”

  Nick laughed. “Spare me. Let’s hope they impress whichever gentleman you have decided to impress tonight.”

  “I’d like to impress James Hawthorn.” Sarah turned her mouth down. “But I have the idea Daphne plans to keep him for herself. I don’t care. At least I’ll have the chance to meet some of his friends.”

  “They’re a ramshackle lot. You’d best stick to someone older, like Luke.”

  “He’s far too smart for me,” Sarah said in an airy voice.

  Charlotte cleared her throat. “Nick gave me this lovely bracelet.” She held up her arm to show Sarah.

  “He must be the best husband in the world.” Sarah aimed an open smile at Nick. “Let’s hope I can find one half as good in my desperate hunt.”

  “You will find one just as good.” Charlotte pulled on her gloves. “You look so lovely now.”

  “Lovely?” Sarah raised her eyebrows. “It’s how you are inside that counts.”

  Charlotte knew how she was on the inside—conscientious, parsimonious, careful, and wracked with guilt. Why? She’d maintained her bargain with Nick. She’d covered his absentness, she’d shown the world a real marriage, and she’d not interfered with his pleasures. Smoothing on her gloves, she left for the carriage with Sarah and Nick.

  In the main hall of the mansion in North Adelaide, she met Luke’s second cousin, Arnold Worthing, short and stout, and his tall, slender wife who presided over the reception line. Inside the ballroom graced with a polished dark-wood floor and faux black marble columns, guests milled, glancing over each new arrival. The din covered the sound of the small orchestra tuning up for a cotillion.

  Nick moved Charlotte and Sarah toward a group of welcoming faces and plucked out James Hawthorn. “Dance with Sarah,” he said, urging Charlotte’s cousin forward. “So that I may dance with my wife.”

  Without a backward glance, he took Charlotte to the ballroom floor. During the formations, she saw Sarah happily entertaining her partner by tossing words at James each time they met in the complicated patterns of the dance.

  While Charlotte’s feet automatically took her through the movements, she imagined lying naked with Nick. She imagined his hands on her skin, on her buttocks, and lifting her against his hard body. Her cheeks flushed and the lower part of her body filled with a sudden erotic heaviness. She would never experience coupling, but she had begun to understand carnal desire.

  Before the next set, Luke joined the group. “Good news. Not two hours ago Amelia delivered a red-haired son. And I,” he lowered his voice, “stayed for a while to support Ivor.”

  “Ah.” James nodded. “That explains your tie.” He pulled one end to even Luke’s bow and stepped back. “And your stupid grin. You’ve been supporting Ivor with brandy.” He left with Daphne to form a set with Emily and Hubert, and Sarah moved off with another of James’s friends.

  Watching them leave, Luke made a wry face at Nick. “A redheaded son. Poor Ivor is not sure whether to be pleased or suspicious.”

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Should he be suspicious?”

  “You know Ivor. His bastard was fair like him, and so I think he expected the same again.”

  Nick stood motionless, his face stiff. “Are you being obscure?”

  “Not deliberately.” Luke rested his lips against his closed fist and coughed. “Brandy tends to loosen the tongue. I forgot you were still in New South Wales last year when Ivor was caught out by a house-maid.”

  Nick frowned. “You shouldn’t be discussing this in front of Charlotte.”

  “I shouldn’t. It’s past history.” Luke gave her a seedy smile.

  “Last year?” Charlotte asked, seeing the situation from another side entirely. Ivor would have been married around that time. “Surely that is rather awkward for Amelia?”

  Nick’s eyes glittered. “Apparently she accepts his bastard,” he said in a deadly tone. “Or do you belong to the school of thought that says a man should be punished throughout eternity for his mistakes?” He backed a step, turned, and strode toward the opened doors leading to the outside.

  Eyes wide, she stared after him.

  “Forgive him,” Luke said, quietly. “Heaven knows he’ll never forgive himself.”

  “Forgive him?”

  “He would have married Clara in an instant had she not already been married.”

  She stared at Luke, lost. “Clara?”

  “Not that any of us thought he should. The woman was old enough to know better than to throw herself at him.”

  “She threw herself at him?”

  “From the very moment she met him. She wouldn’t leave him alone. Nick has…had that effect on women.” He shrugged, his gaze flittering away from her.

  “But he wasn’t interested in women.”

  “He could have his pick—click his fingers—done. Women followed him in the street.”

  “He might not have been as flattered as you suppose.”

  Two lines formed between his eyebrows. “He certainly never seemed to notice the stares. Or perhaps he didn’t care, which made it all the more surprising that when Clara told him about his baby, he decided to run off with her.”

  “His baby.” Her brain numbed. “Yes, of course he did the right thing.”

  “It’s unfortunate she died after the boy or Nick wouldn’t still be blaming himself. He was just twenty-three at the time, younger than James is now.”

  She concentrated on breathing. “Hush. You don’t need to convince me. I understand.” Her voice sounded perfectly normal.

  God forgive me for my sins, Nick had said, his words slurred, the blood pouring from his head wound while she’d tried to stem the flow. I wanted him. Him. His son.

  “And I hope to be forgiven, myself, for causing an upset.”

  Luke’s flattened palms warmed her hands. “Nick doesn’t have a temper. He’ll be back.”

  She forced a smile. “Now, do you mean to dance with me or do you intend to continue chastising me?”

  He tucked her arm under his and led her to the floor.

  She performed the country-dance, her head whirling faster than her feet. Rather than wanting to be forgiven for desiring another man, Nick had been grieving the loss of his son, a far more likely event, given that she appeared to be the only person in the world who thought he was bent. Perhaps now she ought to be chastising herself, but when she saw Luke’s boney face transformed by a wide smile, she realized he was merely returning hers.

  He had done her a great favor. But for his thoughtless speech, she may well have spent months in ignorance of Nick’s past. Her heart sang, and she whirled about on feet scarcely touching the floor. Perhaps she had based her marriage on a faulty premise, but at least she knew now her husband was no sodomite. He did not have other interests as he said.

  She had a real husband. She didn’t need to hope to be an aunt. One day she could be a mother herself, God willing. She didn’t have to spend a lifetime of guilt condoning Nick’s illegal practices, whatever they might have been. As the set finished, she saw Nick return to the sidelines. Isolated by the stark expression on his face, he propped his back against the wall and crossed his arms. His former illicit relationship must have
taught him a very harsh lesson about ostracism from society.

  Suddenly self-conscious, she let Luke deliver her to her husband, who was no longer the man she’d married. This new man stood square shouldered and lean hipped, the masculine strength of his face apparent. He couldn’t be manlier if he tried, but of course he didn’t try. A man with his natural elegance had no need.

  “You must think me very narrow-minded,” she said, unable to hold his penetrating gaze.

  “Not at all,” he said, his words clipped. “You must think me very petulant.”

  “Not at all. I don’t want anyone’s punishment for a mistake to be extended to eternity. Surely a month or two would suffice.” She lifted her head.

  His mouth relaxed. “As long as the punishment is harsh.”

  “Served with undercooked offal.”

  “Certainly with braised liver.” He almost smiled, and she saw the truth of Luke’s words. Nick didn’t have a temper. Nor did he hold a grudge.

  With virtually nothing more to say, she stared across to the dancers. “The orchestra is playing a waltz.”

  His eyes met hers. With a tilt of his eyebrows, he indicated the dance floor. She nodded, and, without a word, he took her into his arms and glided her into a waltz, her first with him. His clasp was firm with one palm in the middle of her spine and the other supporting her hand. Each step made her more aware of his thighs scraping against her skirts, forcing her to concentrate on not moving closer.

  When she saw his smile of tolerant amusement, although her insides jumbled, she remembered her posture, unwilling to be the sort of woman who would follow him in the street or throw herself at him. For years he had protected the memory of a dead woman. A love like that was rare, not to be taken lightly by a woman who had married him for his social position.

  As his wife, she had a duty. He had married her thinking she was bearing Tony’s child. This gave her reason to believe he was not at all averse to being a father, but not only that. The episode in her bed last week seemed to indicate that however reluctant he might be, he would like his own babies. She would not have to spend the rest of her life childless. Perhaps he would love the other woman until the end of his days, but the fact that he had succumbed to kissing and caressing his wife showed that his guilt was abating. He more than attracted her, always had, and the bargain was now null and void. Surely.

  Her pulse flickering in her throat, she edged her fingers onto his shoulder and higher, and brushed across his chin with her thumb.

  He tensed. “What are you doing, my sweet salvation?”

  “Flirting.” She smiled.

  “It’s against the rules.” His expression turned watchful.

  Her breath shortened. “Whose rules?”

  “Mine.” His step became longer, and he whirled her into and out of the corner.

  “Is that fair? To stop me flirting with you? I’m your wife.”

  His mouth firmed. “In name only. Do you want to talk or dance?” He stopped in the center of the room, his head tilted, awaiting her answer.

  “Talk.”

  Taking her hand, he led her off the floor, guiding her to a secluded area backed by two of the faux marble pillars. “So, you want to talk about flirting, do you?” He faced her.

  “I want to talk about having children.”

  He folded his arms. “I don’t want children, which is why you married me. You saw me for what I am, and you knew we would never reproduce. If you want to try out your womanly wiles, find someone else.”

  “You mean as a replacement for Tony?” She waited.

  “I misunderstood.” He rubbed the side of his neck. “He and I have cleared that up, and I don’t mind if you ride with him. However, I do mind if you flirt with him. He’s a happily married man.”

  “So, with whom should I flirt? Luke?” She smiled inside. For the first time she had him on the defensive. Confidence and independence seemed to be serving her well. Nick didn’t know that Luke had told her about Clara. He thought he had to keep up his pretence of being uninterested in females. Instead of being the pursued, she could be the pursuer. “I want to practice with you.”

  Firm faced, he glared at her.

  “You have such nice eyes,” she said, threading her fingers with his. “And your hand is warm and large.”

  “You really want to flirt with me? I warn you, Charlotte, I know how to win this game.”

  She glanced up at him. “Perhaps you’ll teach me how to play.”

  His eyes glittering with amusement, he slid his fingers into the opening of her glove and caressed her pulse. Her breath sped up, her heartbeat fluttered, but her body relaxed. She didn’t doubt that he’d noticed her reaction, for he rested his mouth where his fingers had left a tingle of sensation.

  “What are you two doing, away in a corner by yourselves?”

  Charlotte reared back, pulling her arm away.

  “Sarah, have some tact,” Luke said from behind her. “That’s not a question you ask of newlyweds.”

  “Nick bit a hanging thread from my glove,” Charlotte said without thinking.

  “See.” Sarah lifted her nose at Luke. “You don’t need to remind me of my manners. Dance with Daphne. I’m sure she’d enjoy your version of the waltz, slow and precise. I’ve promised this one to James.”

  “Yes, change partners.” James brought Daphne to the group of four. “Daphne and I have known each other too long to find any excitement in dancing together.”

  Charlotte’s glance met Sarah’s.

  “There, Lolly. What did I tell you?” With a wicked smile on her face, Sarah took James’s arm. With the same noise that had attended the interruption, the four departed.

  “And what did she tell you?” Nick asked with a narrowing of his eyes. “Lolly.”

  “She thinks James is nowhere near as interested as Daphne supposes.”

  “Nor is he interested in Sarah. He’s interested in amenable females, Lolly.”

  “She promised never to call me that in front of anyone else.”

  “Sweetness on a stick. It suits you. I’m sure you’d be very nice to lick.”

  She turned her head away as a hot blush overcame her. Many things he had said that she had ignored were blatantly suggestive. You play my games, and I’ll play yours. Undress and get into bed with me. Whether he liked the idea or not, he would eventually accept his conjugal rights.

  “Lolly.” He picked up her arm and pressed his lips between the buttons of her glove. The tips of his teeth flickered over the sensitive skin of her wrist. “How am I managing? Am I as good as a real man?”

  Her insides shivered, and she longed to bury her fingers in his hair and hold him close. “You could fool me,” she said, her voice husky. “But I don’t think that’s at all difficult.”

  “I don’t want to fool you. I’m not all bad. Where you’re concerned, I’ve been exceptionally good.”

  “It’s easy to be good when you’re not tempted.”

  He scrutinized her face. “True.”

  “Nevertheless.” She faced him. “Should you ever be tempted, I’m your wife.”

  Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall and crossed one ankle with the other. “I know.”

  “I won’t mind.” She tried to breathe normally.

  “Won’t you now?”

  She gave him a smile that wouldn’t in a thousand years show her thoughts. Never once had she considered another man. She’d certainly not ever presented herself to one, and this one had just rejected her, again. He didn’t care that she was beautiful. He was more beautiful. He didn’t care that she was attracted to him. Every woman was attracted to him. Only one fact made her different from any other woman—he had married her. “Heavens, Nick. I know you’re not tempted by me. I knew that when I married you.”

  “Oh, I find you very tempting.” He stared at the dancers on the floor. “You’re an enigma, a puzzle. You’re young and inexperienced, but yo
u’re never at a loss. You’ve just offered yourself to me but only because you assume I won’t take you up on your offer. That’s almost enough to make me do so.”

  She pretended to be amused, but all she had on her mind was playing the role of seductress. “But you won’t.”

  “Are you issuing me a challenge, Charlotte?”

  “You couldn’t rise to it.”

  He gave her the strangest smile. “I could make you feel desire.”

  Now that Nick had called her Charlotte, not Blossom or Petal or Lolly, she might well encourage him to do so.

  Chapter 10

  Charlotte walked with Nick into their sitting room. After all her hopeful anticipation, instead of hurrying her into his bedroom, he stopped by his door and took her hands. “Good night. You won. You completely out-bluffed me—no mean feat.”

  She laughed. “You’re easy to bluff,” she said, keeping her voice casual. “I know exactly what you’re going to do.”

  “We’re not playing a game of cards, you know.”

  “That’s how you play cards, too. By bluffing.” She ran her fingers along his jaw line. “A woman couldn’t make you feel desire. I could do anything I liked to you, and you wouldn’t react.” She pretended her thumb found a scrap of something on his bottom lip. “Look what happened when we were in bed together. You took my hand off your…um.”

  “It seemed wise at the time.” He sounded husky.

  “You’re afraid that if we do anything, you’ll change your orientation.”

  “Trust me. I’m not about to do that.”

  “Bluffing again?” She moved right up against him, casually placing her hand onto his shoulder.

  His expression changed to one of glittering cynicism. “You should have concentrated on the words in our wedding ceremony. Marriage was ordained as a remedy against sin and to avoid fornication.”

  “I think the minister meant us to avoid fornication with others.” She concentrated on his smooth-skinned neck, tempted but was not quite brave enough to place a kiss there.