Had he really lost his heart to her? That would make a refreshing change. She’d waited a year to see if Val would see her as more than a convenient excuse. When they had become betrothed he’d been frank, asking her to allow him some freedom before pressing him for a wedding date. He’d proceeded to use her as a useful way of dissuading the more importunate matchmakers who clustered around the Shaw family every season.
Charlotte had allowed it. In the back of her mind, she’d waited for him to fall in love with her, or at least show her some affection, but he still treated her with the same careless but polite indifference he used with everyone else he knew.
Hervey was handsome and passionate. She was sure she could come to love him in time. He would be hers, devoted to her. Moreover, she did not feel the same despairing love for him. She liked him well enough, in a way that could, she imagined, easily turn to love as time passed.
Yes, she would do it, on one condition. “Would you offer my sister a home?”
He gave her a quizzical look but nodded after a moment. “I would be honored to do so, should she be in need of one.”
That was the answer she needed. Resolution took her. She could not continue as she was, with her sister and herself under their father’s thumb and with no prospect of actual marriage to Val. She had to move on with her life. If possible, she would take this man.
Ever since he had appeared in London at the start of the season, Hervey had paid her particular attention, so his regard, while premature, was not totally unexpected.
He clasped her hands, tightening his hold. “Please, my dearest one, give me an answer. If not now, tell me when you will be free. If you tell me to leave, I will never mention this again!”
“You had better not,” a voice drawled from the doorway.
Chapter 2
Charlotte had been so engrossed in Hervey’s declaration she had not even noticed the shadow falling over the tiled floor. Normally she was very aware of her surroundings, knowing that alertness mattered even more than most people would suppose. She gasped. “Val!”
Hervey sprang to his feet and executed a perfectly elegant bow. “Lord Shaw, I will not apologize. I cannot imagine what has made you deny this lovely creature for so long.”
Valentinian’s amused gaze traveled over Hervey’s stiffened, bristling figure. He took his time, traversing him several times before he finally straightened and bowed his head in an almost insultingly small gesture, returning the flourishing bow with a barely there nod. “You have an interesting turn of phrase, sir. I could listen to you all day. Pray, don’t let me stop you.” He lifted his hand in an elegant, arrogant gesture. “Do go on. I will act as Lady Charlotte’s duenna, although I admit my experience in that area is paltry.” He took a few steps, his shoes rapping on the terra-cotta beneath his feet. “Such eloquence deserves an audience.”
Now he had moved out of the sun, Charlotte spotted the signs of his displeasure. Val was smiling, but his brilliant blue eyes were hard as sapphires, and his square jaw was set. The soft sensuality of his mouth deceived many into looking no further, but Charlotte had learned better. Charlotte was far more observant that most people supposed. She had to be. If Val wanted something, he got it. He was not happy right now.
He took a circuit around the pavilion, hands behind his back, ending by staring out at the garden with his back to them. “My mother loves it here. She has created a veritable oasis in the midst of strife.” He shrugged, his shoulders moving slightly under the beautifully cut dark red cloth coat. “I’m mixing my metaphors a trifle, but you understand my meaning, I’m sure.” When he turned back to them, his face was wiped of expression. “Madam, your lady aunt has arrived and is asking for you.”
With a strangled yelp, all her grace gone, what there was of it, Charlotte sprang to her feet. If her aunt reported her transgressions to her father, she would be in trouble.
Val gave a small shake of his head. “We are dealing with her. Please, don’t alarm yourself.”
“She will expect to see me.” They all walked a tightrope, Charlotte, her sister, and their aunt.
“And she will.”
When she reached him, Val drew her to his side, as if he had a right to do so.
Slowly, Hervey got to his feet. “I will take my leave. But this matter is not over.” He bowed, ensuring Charlotte was the recipient. “We will speak again.”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say. She covered her confusion by curtsying. “My lord.”
She stood in frozen silence with Val until Lord Kellett’s footsteps ceased to crunch on the gravel path.
Letting out a small sigh, Val turned to Charlotte. “I swear, we’re handling your chaperone. Dru will meet us here in ten minutes. She’s avoided this party by hiding in the library, but I pushed her into action. As far as your aunt knows, you are walking with my sister in the garden.”
That would serve their purpose well. “Thank you!” Her relief was so profound she almost fell on him, her knees giving way for a second.
He caught her elbows and held her up, turning her to face him. “When we were first betrothed, your father said you were his dearly beloved daughter, yet he treats you with scarce interest, and you are obviously in fear of him. Why would he do that?”
“You never asked me that before.”
“You are usually more circumspect. I have never seen such an extreme reaction in you before.”
She had thought of asking for his help in her dilemma, but he had never shown an interest. She would not go to him as a petitioner if they were to part. Her pride would not allow it. “He disowned my older sister.” When her heart sank, Charlotte hid her emotion as she did every time the subject came up. “She was warned, but she went ahead with her plan.”
“He has made society aware of that. Was it so hard for you?” His voice softened, became as intimate as she had ever known it.
She bit her lip. She had given away too much and he was angling for more. “I love Sarah, but I never see her. He threatens to cast me off if I behave disobediently.”
“And you have a younger sister.”
He was getting too close. Her natural protective instincts came to life. “She is not yet out.” Nor ever likely to be, but she wouldn’t tell him that. “I am the only daughter in society.”
“Are you the only beloved daughter?”
Her father frequently referred to her in that way. “I doubt it.” She tried to smile, but it fell short. “I am cared for, most certainly.” Perhaps if she weren’t requesting an end to their relationship she could have said more, but as it was, she could not. The Shaws gossiped. They did not have loose tongues, but amongst themselves they chattered and exchanged information. She would not allow her family to be the subject of gossip, however circumspect. Charlotte did not know all Val’s cousins, so she could not assess them all.
His voice softened. “Your father has a certain reputation for the way he runs his household. Is it worse than that?”
Immediately, without pausing to think, Charlotte shook her head. “Of course not. He is strict, but so are many parents.” Her father preferred private matters to remain so.
“I wish you would tell me, my dear.”
Very few people saw Val like this—compassionate, his gaze direct, and no sarcastic smile curling his lips. He made Charlotte feel privileged because he was letting her in. The family members surrounded themselves with an invisible fortress, as impregnable as any Norman castle. She’d had tantalizing glimpses of it—this large, loving family who tolerated each other’s foibles and follies—and wondered what it could possibly be like.
Charlotte didn’t have any follies.
She shook her head, lowering her gaze.
Val tucked a finger under her chin and gently tilted it up. “I won’t ask if it distresses you.”
“It’s not that.” Wildly she thought of an excuse. “It would feel disloyal.” He would understand that.
He gave a slow nod, but he narrowed his eyes, turnin
g perceptive. “I see.”
She feared he saw more than she wanted him to. She met his gaze and let him look, to try to pierce the mask she donned every day before she left her bedroom. She swallowed, but she said no more. If she did, she might never stop.
Val smiled. Not his society smile, the one that could be supercilious or sarcastic or even devastatingly reckless, but warm and friendly. “Now, about what I interrupted. Was Kellett upsetting you?”
“No.” At least she could be totally honest about that, but when she came to the point, she found words hard to find. “He wants to marry me, Val.”
He raised a brow. “Did you remind him that you’re spoken for?”
“I did. But, Val…you’ve kept me for a very long time.” Releasing his hands, she moved away, pacing the small space, her skirt swishing, adding to the sounds of the birds singing joyously and that wayward bee that still couldn’t find an exit. She knew how it felt.
She turned back to him, ignoring the way her skirts wrapped around her legs before unwinding themselves. Her aunt would reprimand her for her inelegance. Her father would probably order her to stand for an extra hour.
Charlotte was one of the few people who could have become a lady-in-waiting at court with no problem. Ladies-in-waiting were required to stand silently for hour after hour. She could accomplish that with no problem at all. Perhaps when the country had a queen again, she would consider asking her father to find her a position for her. After all, the King had daughters. One of those might want a lady-in-waiting.
Again she was thinking of escape. She had dreams about running, and woke up out of breath sometimes.
“Val, you don’t want me, do you?”
“Charlotte.”
His voice was so gentle that tears formed in her throat. She had started on her path now; she had to finish it.
“You are a delightful girl.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-five.” She swallowed. “Val, I want to marry soon.”
What would he say to that?
She watched the expressions flit across his face. Val let out very little, but that door he’d opened for her enabled her to see in a little further than most people. That slight twitch of his eyelid and the way his eyes seemed to darken in color told her more than he probably imagined. Or perhaps he let her see. She never knew with Val.
“I had expected not to.” He sighed. “But I have seen nobody I would rather marry than you.”
Damned with faint praise. She tucked her hurt away, prepared to deal with it another time. “But that’s the problem.” She walked closer to him. “You don’t want to marry anybody. There’s no reason why you should.” He was a second son, and his brother was busy creating heirs for the estate with his new wife.
“Ah, but there is.” He scratched a spot just above his ear. He did that when he was dealing with a tricky problem. At least he found her tricky. Maybe she should be grateful for that. “My father treated me to a lecture today,” he went on. “He does that rarely, but he said that we had to set a date for this year. He pointed out that you are supposed to keep me on the straight and narrow path. The path of respectability and sober behavior. Do you think you can do that, my sweet?”
“No, I do not. But I can lend you respectability.”
That was what her father told her to do. “It’s no use my asking you to guide him,” he’d said. “Women rule from the bedroom, and I do not imagine for one moment that you will ever develop the skills that would hold a man as wild as Lord Valentinian Shaw.”
Not that she would tell Val that.
“Would you be willing to stand by while I have wild affairs, visit the worst gaming hells and clubs, and generally drag my family’s name in the mud?” His mouth twisted. “Those are his words, by the way.”
She swallowed. “That is why I’m asking you to release me. I can’t stand to see you do those things.”
“We have signed the marriage contract.” The contract was the result of hours of careful negotiation.
“We could have it broken.”
He shook his head slightly, regret shading his eyes. “I’m not being fair to you, am I? You should be married and a mother by now. But for the past two years, we—the family, that is—have been engaged in something—” He looked up at the dark wood ceiling, as if to gain inspiration there. “I cannot say. I would break too many confidences.” He laughed harshly. “And none of this is making sense to you. No matter, it’s in the past.”
She was close enough for him to gather her hands in his again. His warmth enclosed her, and she melted. She always did when he touched her. However often she’d tried to suppress her reaction to him, when he touched her it started all over again.
Women were carefully chaperoned for this reason. Val Shaw—that was the reason.
“My dear, if you wish, I’ll talk to my father.”
She nodded, beyond words. Inside her, horror lurked when she pictured the life Val had laid out. To sit and smile while he was indulging in all kinds of debauchery. “Do you really do that? All those things?”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Some of them.”
“Then yes, talk to your father.” Because if she married him under those circumstances, she would run mad. Rather than that, she’d give him up altogether. She’d waited so long, dreaming foolish dreams about domestic bliss. She couldn’t bear the mistresses, gambling, and drunken behavior society credited him with. Especially the mistresses. “Do you have a mistress now?” She would have clapped her hand over her mouth, but he had both her hands in his.
“No, I do not. And before you ask, yes, I have had mistresses in the past. Why, were you considering taking the position? Because I have to tell you that you disqualify yourself.”
“Why?”
“You’re too well-born, too innocent, and far too pretty.”
The last made her eyes widen. Pretty? Her? “You don’t like your mistresses pretty?”
“They are lovely, lush, generous,” he said. “Not like you.”
That hurt. “I see.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them fast. “I think I’d like to go back to the house now.”
Instead, he drew her closer, so close his body heat reached her. She wore only a thin silk gown, and her arms and bosom were barely covered. She wanted to rub against him and gather more. Which, of course, she was not planning to do, but she recognized the urge.
“You don’t see, my dear. Not at all. Mistresses tend to make the most of their assets. You do not.” He glanced down at her fichu-covered bosom and her respectable gown, the blue one she’d worn to many events this season. The embroidery was understated and her robings were plain, folded back to display a hand-embroidered stomacher and a matching petticoat. “You are neat to a pin, but not alluring. You could be, you know.” He smiled at her amazement. “Believe me, you could. You should stop powdering your hair, let us see that glory.”
She scoffed. “It’s brown. That’s all.”
“Chestnut,” he insisted. “It would suit you more than that dead white.”
Val wore his own dark hair, so brown it was nearly black, tied back neatly. The Emperors were setting a new fashion, yet another way they dictated to society.
She already knew that, but her maid powdered her every morning and topped it up for the evening. She didn’t always wash it out at night, and the stuff itched. But her father insisted on the formality of hair powder.
“That is my concern, sir.” She put up her chin.
“So it is. But you did ask. I feel you do not see yourself as I do. You could make yourself a raving beauty.”
“That is utter nonsense.” How could that be, when men did not exactly crowd around her? If they did, she would not have this problem.
He smiled. “I think that is the first time I’ve seen such spirit in you. You should cultivate it. It puts fire in your eyes. However, my sweet, I will release you if you wish it.”
“Thank you.” Sadness swept over her in a suffocating wa
ve. Charlotte forced herself to breathe. After all, she had asked him, had she not?
“I ask one favor before we say goodbye. Because this will be goodbye, Charlotte. I will seek an interview with my father, and you must speak to yours. They will negotiate how best to break the contract, and then it will be over. You’ll be free to marry your Lord Kellett.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. Yes, she would. “Could I ask my father first? Will you give me a few days?”
“Of course. We shall say that my behavior is too much for you to bear. That is only the truth, after all.”
He saw too much, but she would not deny it. “Yes.” Her stomach tied itself in knots at the thought of the ordeal that lay ahead. But she was set on the path now and she would see it through. At least she could offer a substitute husband, one who wanted to marry her immediately.
“I’ll always be your friend, Charlotte. You must come to me if you ever need help.”
He didn’t say it, but he inferred that her brother was no use. That was not strictly true, but as yet he was too young to have any influence on their father. In time he would make a fine duke, but to rely on a man five years younger than she… No, she would not think of it.
Normally she would have said thank you, drawn her hands away, and asked him to take her into the house. Today she wanted one more thing. “I want us to part with a kiss,” she said, but her voice shook on the last two words. Just once she would know what he tasted like, why women went wild for him.
He stared at her, eyes wide and dark.
“Never mind. I didn’t mean it.”
With a swift movement, he dragged her forward, tipping her off-balance so she fell into his arms. “Oh, yes, you did.” His voice deepened to a growl as he settled her against his shoulder. “You shall have your kiss, Charlotte.”
When she opened her mouth on a gasp, he brought his lips down on hers.
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