Cold wind blew softly throughout the crowds, but Charlotte hardly noticed, for she was far too distracted with moving from person to person with a ready smile and warm conversation.
After wishing a good evening to the Proddles, the husband and wife welcoming her to Loxley graciously, Charlotte wandered closer to the fire to warm her fingers, not wanting to leave the party to retrieve the gloves she had forgotten during the excitement of preparing for the evening.
She swayed back and forth when a lively tune began, sung by a group of young boys and girls resembling Julia’s vivacity, while the adults drank their steaming cups of chocolate amidst soft laughter and happy conversation.
Charlotte sighed with pleasure at the scene before a deep voice spoke behind her, and her heart leapt in her chest.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Rosebury?”
“Mr. Worthington,” she said, smiling as she turned around. “I am, thank you. I have never been to such an exciting celebration.”
Gabriel nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd around them. “Yes, my mother is skillful at planning a party,” he said before focusing on her. “You seem quite at ease amongst these strangers.”
“Oh, but they are not strangers now, are they?” she said with a smile. “If you are uncomfortable with my happy state, though, I am willing to behave more miserably, if you wish.”
“No,” he said with a small smile, “I merely meant to share my surprise with your contented state, as I thought, perhaps, you might miss Brightwood so greatly you could not be happy here.”
Charlotte eyed him with curiosity. “Do you wish for me to be happy here?” she asked.
Gabriel paused, his heart hammering nervously in his chest as he scrambled to answer the woman’s question.
“I would not wish unhappiness upon any guest staying in my home,” he said after a moment’s thought.
“I see.”
Charlotte’s downcast gaze filled him with guilt, and he longed to tell the woman the truth, how very much he did wish for her to be happy in his home, and how that desire had increased after seeing Charlotte, as kind and as happy as ever, within the walls of Greyston.
However, he knew he could never speak such things aloud, for he had worked far too hard to build the wall around his heart to simply have it crumble apart because of Charlotte’s pretty face and amiable character.
“Well,” Charlotte said, her smile returning, “I assure you, I am not the least bit unhappy. I do miss my family, but your mother, being the excellent hostess as she is, lessens my longing for them. And her son, well, if one is able to look past his vexing nature, one might see him, at times, as quite charming.”
“Is that so?” Gabriel asked, his previous thoughts disappearing.
“Indeed.”
“Well,” he said, “I believe this gentleman might like the idea of being called ‘charming,’ Miss Rosebury.”
Charlotte looked up at him, and he disregarded his pounding heart when he saw the fire’s reflection dancing in her hazel eyes.
“So much so, he shall strive to be even more amiable in the future?” she asked.
“I suppose you shall have to require patience to see.”
“Mr. Worthington?” a voice called from behind, and Gabriel’s jaw twitched with irritation.
Charlotte tore her eyes away from Gabriel to see Miss Bosville calling his name and waving him over to where she stood not too far away.
“You are being summoned, Mr. Worthington,” Charlotte said, turning her attention to the fire.
Gabriel nodded to Miss Bosville, but made no move to join her.
“Mr. Worthington,” Miss Bosville continued, “I do believe your mother is in search of you.”
He nodded and said, “Thank you,” but again remained where he stood.
“But, Mr. Worthington,” the woman said, “I believe it is rather urgent.”
Charlotte glanced up to see a look of annoyance upon Gabriel’s face, and before she knew what she was doing, she answered the woman herself.
“Thank you very much, Miss Bosville,” she said with a smile. “You needn’t worry any longer. As soon as Mr. Worthington is available, I shall see he finds his mother directly.”
Miss Bosville pouted before raising her chin and huffing away, leaving Charlotte with a satisfied smile upon her lips.
“There you are, Mr. Worthington,” she said. “You may thank me now, for the matter is solved.”
Her smile faltered, however, when his serious gaze focused upon her.
“Forgive me,” she said, “I did not intend to speak for you.”
“No, it is not that,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “I was simply thinking, that is all.”
“And what were you thinking?” she asked.
“That you are quite comfortable with who you are,” he replied, his eyes staring into her own. “That is, you do not hesitate to defend yourself when others treat you in a disagreeable way, though your kindness remains.”
Charlotte blushed. “That is far too generous an observation, sir, and, I fear, not completely truthful. After all, you, yourself, have been an unfortunate victim to my unkindness.”
“Yes, but was I not deserving of your words at the time?” he asked with a knowing look, and she could not help but smile.
“I have also come to notice,” he continued, his voice softening further, “how your smile seems to never fade, and how infectious the sight is.”
Their eyes met, and as they stood there in silence, Charlotte’s heart raced until she felt a burning sensation occur atop her hand.
“Oh!” she gasped in pain as she looked down to discover a large piece of ash upon her skin.
She blew it off and tilted her hand toward the light, seeing a red mark already appearing upon her flesh.
“Are you all right?” Gabriel asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, still examining the small wound, “it is nothing. I suppose I should have retrieved my gloves, after all.”
“Does it hurt?” he asked, pulling off his own gloves before reaching out to grasp her fingers between his own, his callused fingertips softly touching near the wound.
“A little,” Charlotte managed to say as she struggled to breathe due to his touch.
“If it causes further pain, inform me, and we shall find something to put upon it.”
Charlotte nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Worthington.”
Gabriel looked up at her, their eyes meeting for only a moment before he abruptly dropped her hand.
“Of course,” he said, averting his gaze. “If you will excuse me. I must see to my mother.”
Charlotte nodded before watching Gabriel’s broad shoulders disappear through the crowd.
Much to her disappointment, he stayed away the rest of the evening, though he returned her smile each time their eyes met across the sea of people, and Charlotte’s heart soared.
As the night air grew colder and began to take its toll upon the guests, the party came to an end, and Charlotte returned to the house with Gabriel and his mother.
“My, what an evening!” Mrs. Worthington exclaimed once they were within Greyston Hall’s warm walls. “The weather stayed quite agreeable, though it was a little cold. However, our friends seemed to enjoy themselves. Did you, Miss Rosebury?”
Charlotte smiled. “Very much so.”
“And you, Gabriel? What did you make of the evening?”
“I thought it very pleasant.”
Mrs. Worthington’s face lit up with a grin. “Well, that is a success then, is it not? Now, I should like a cup of tea before I retire for the evening. Will either of you be joining me?”
“Thank you,” Charlotte said, “but I feel quite spent.”
“As do I,” Gabriel agreed.
“Very well,” Mrs. Worthington said, already on her way to the parlor. “Goodnight to you both.”
Charlotte remained where she stood, staring after the woman until she disappeared from her view, and a strange agitation overcame
her to be in Gabriel’s presence alone.
“If we are both truly as tired as we have claimed,” Gabriel said, breaking through their silence, “perhaps we ought to continue to our rooms to avoid falling asleep where we stand.”
Charlotte nodded before falling into step beside Gabriel, moving up the grand staircase and passing various rooms until they both paused near the hallway leading to her room.
They stood in silence for a moment, Charlotte’s mind racing to find something to say, but Gabriel spoke first.
“How is your hand?”
“Much better, thank you,” she responded, glancing up to see him stretching forth his fingers.
“May I?” he asked, motioning for her hand, and as Charlotte rested her fingers upon his own, she struggled to steady her breathing.
“When I was a young boy,” Gabriel said, his deep voice hardly above a whisper, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand, “my mother told me the best cure for a wound was a kiss. I know her words were to merely quiet my tears, but the pain always seemed to disappear after her gentle touch.”
He lifted her hand slightly before looking into her eyes.
“But now I find myself curious…curious to know if I have inherited my mother’s gift…”
He brought her hand close to his lips, his breath, so soft upon her skin, causing her heart to flutter.
“To know if my kiss might cause you even the smallest relief.”
As he pressed his lips to her hand, a warmth spread throughout Charlotte’s heart so fiercely, she feared she might swoon, but just as soon as his affection had begun, Gabriel pulled away to rest his fingers atop her hand.
“Goodnight, Miss Rosebury,” he said, releasing his hold and walking away with a small smile in her direction before disappearing around the corner.
“Goodnight,” Charlotte whispered to the empty hallway, staring at the burn on her skin and placing her opposite hand to her chest as her heart raced. “Oh, Mr. Worthington, how can you affect me so?”
***
“Do enter before me, son,” Mrs. Worthington said after Charlotte had entered the church pew first the next day. “You know I get so terribly flushed at times. I really much prefer sitting near the opening.”
Charlotte glanced to see Gabriel hesitating outside of their pew, and she could not help but feel he did not wish to sit next to her, her heart sinking at the thought.
Is his hesitance due to last evening? she thought, her heart fluttering again at the memory.
“Mr. Worthington,” she said with a smile, hoping to alleviate his discomfort with kindness, “I am certain your mother would prefer sitting before the sermon begins.”
“Indeed, I would,” Mrs. Worthington agreed.
“Of course,” came Gabriel’s mumbled reply before he moved forward, Charlotte shifting closer to the cold wood next to her as Gabriel sat down.
“I am really quite flattered you think me so delicate as to fit in what little space you have given me, son,” Mrs. Worthington said, eying the bench next to Gabriel, “but really, do you not think you could move a touch more?”
Gabriel sighed as he moved closer to Charlotte, and before she could take offense at his obvious desire to be seated elsewhere, her thoughts became lost as his shoulder and leg pressed closely against her own.
“It is a little tight,” Mrs. Worthington whispered, leaning forward to speak with Charlotte, though the vicar had already begun his sermon, “but our closeness shall keep us warm.”
Charlotte nodded, grateful her father was not there to see how closely she sat to Gabriel, but before long, she directed her gaze forward, intent upon listening to the discourse.
However, as the vicar spoke, her attention wavered, for each time Gabriel shifted next to her, their legs touched further, and his masculine scent would waft into her nose and cause her to nearly sigh.
Time and time again, she forced herself to focus on the sermon rather than the numbing sensation in her leg and shoulder, but as the vicar continued speaking with no end in sight to his words, the warmth Charlotte felt from Gabriel’s person caused her mind and limbs to relax, and soon, her eyelids slowly closed as she drifted off to sleep.
Gabriel struggled to hide the smile upon his face as Charlotte’s head nodded up and down, the woman clearly struggling to remain awake.
He glanced down to the blue of her pelisse resting against his black breeches, and his heartbeat quickened, despite his mind telling him to fight the warmth spreading throughout him.
This is why you should have insisted upon Mother sitting next to Miss Rosebury, he thought. Heaven knows you need to regain the resolve you lost last evening.
He avoided the memory of the night before and attempted to listen to Mr. Lacey’s words. However, when Charlotte’s head sank lower, he could not help but lean close to her, ignoring the sweet smell of her hair as he whispered softly in her ear.
“Are you tired, Miss Rosebury?”
Charlotte’s eyes flew open at the sound of Gabriel’s voice next to her, his breath against her ear.
“I thought I was being discreet,” she said with a bashful grin.
“I am afraid not.”
She glanced up at him, his handsome profile causing her heart to flutter.
“I do not how you stay awake, Mr. Worthington,” she whispered. “My fate may be sealed with brimstone and fire for saying so, but I do not believe I have ever heard a longer sermon in all my life.”
Gabriel smiled before leaning close to her again. “If there is one thing you must learn while attending Mr. Lacey’s sermons,” he whispered, “it is to come prepared for a lengthy lecture. As such, I always have a little thing or two to occupy my mind whilst he prattles on.”
“Do not leave me in suspense, sir.”
Their eyes met for a moment before Gabriel nodded.
“Very well,” he began. “I suppose having a companion will be more enjoyable. I must admit, though, my mother does not approve of my distractions.”
“I assure you, I shall not disapprove, Mr. Worthington, so long as whatever we do manages to revive me.”
“Then you must choose the game you prefer. Every now and then, I choose to read a few hymns to pass the time, or, perhaps, memorize a passage or two.”
Charlotte frowned. “Oh, well, I suppose that is a good use of your time.”
“It is,” he said, “but exceedingly dull.”
The smile returned to her lips.
“This is why I shall tell you of another game,” he continued. “You see, on the days I feel particularly sinful, which occurs more often than not, I count how often Mr. Lacey repeats one of his many favorite words.”
“Favorite words?”
“Indeed. Each Sunday, the vicar favors a certain word. Last week, he spoke the word ‘wickedness’ over twenty times during his sermon. And the Sunday before, his chosen word was ‘death,’ however, I lost count as he repeated it too often.”
Charlotte’s eyes shone bright with excitement. “What is today’s word?”
“Take a moment to listen, and see if you cannot discover it for yourself.”
Charlotte nodded before looking toward the vicar, all weariness disappearing as she listened to his words.
“Is it ‘misery’?” she asked after a moment, and Gabriel smiled down at her.
“Indeed, it is,” he whispered back. “Fitting, is it not, for how we feel just now listening to him?”
She held a hand to her mouth to stop her laughter.
“How many times has he spoken the word thus far?” she asked, eying Mr. Lacey whose gray hair puffed out around his ears.
“Thirty-one,” he said with raised brows. “Quite impressive.”
Charlotte’s smile grew. “I think I shall play this game.”
“I must say, your choice reveals much about your character, Miss Rosebury,” Gabriel said.
She looked up at him, her heart fluttering at his handsome face so close to hers.
“I believe
it says more of the gentleman who created such a game, Mr. Worthington.”
Both of them faced forward then, listening to Mr. Lacey continue with his sermon, and over the next quarter of an hour, Charlotte became much more observant, for each time the man said the word, Gabriel nudged her softly with his elbow, and her heart seemed to burst forth from her chest with each touch until the sermon ended, and Charlotte returned to the carriage in disappointment.
“My, that was quite the discourse,” Mrs. Worthington said when the three of them had begun their journey to Greyston Hall.
Charlotte and Gabriel exchanged smiles.
“Indeed,” Gabriel said. “I am curious to hear what our guest thought. Miss Rosebury, do tell us, what did you enjoy most about Mr. Lacey’s sermon?”
“Oh, it is difficult for me to remember much of his words, for he was so inspiring,” she replied, aware of Mrs. Worthington’s expectant gaze upon her.
“Would you like me to relate the discourse for you, then?” he asked. “I can think of one word that would work quite well in summary.”
Their laughter soon filled the carriage, and neither of them seemed to notice Mrs. Worthington watching them with observant eyes and a pleased smile.
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to ensure the Worthingtons could not see the words she wrote to her sister in the parlor, and only once she was finally satisfied did she return to her letter with a smile.
After reading my account, you may now ascertain as to why I quite enjoyed Mr. Lacey’s discourse, as well as why I look forward to each Sunday I shall spend at Greyston Hall.
Later Sunday evening, Mr. Worthington and I were able to play chess once again, and I am happy to report, I won each and every match. I was impressed with how Mr. Worthington handled his losses, however, for he merely ceased speaking with me, which I consider a vast improvement over fleeing from the room as he did at Brightwood. I have tried not to seem too pleased with my victories this time, so I believe this may have helped.
To Warm A Wintered Heart (Regency Romance) Page 11