by Ella Quinn
“Normally we dine much earlier and en famille,” Charlotte added.
Except this evening, when he, who was not a member of the family, joined them. And that did not make him happy. “Even when you are attending a ball?”
“Indeed. There is always something to fill the time before we go out.”
“Cards and games, generally,” Lady Merton added. “Have you ever played dominoes?”
He had not. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of the game.”
In short order, he was made to understand that his education, not to mention pleasure, was severely lacking. Naturally, the conversation turned to the game’s rules and who of the present company generally beat the flinders out of everyone else. Charlotte was held to be a very good player, but Lady Worthington was the expert.
“Only because I have been playing so much longer,” the lady demurred.
Before he knew it, the butler announced dinner. A short glance around informed him that he was free to escort his betrothed to the dining room. His mood improved when he discovered he could sit next to her as well.
The conversation quickly turned from games to politics, and Con was not surprised that Charlotte was well read and well informed. That they agreed on most of the problems plaguing the country didn’t surprise him. He was, after all, one of Worthington’s allies in the Lords. Despite their conversation, which he thought was going extremely well, she seemed skittish, something was not quite right, and Con didn’t know what to do about it.
* * *
It was fortunate that earlier Charlotte had eaten a light dinner with the children, because her stomach was too tied up in knots to do more than pick at her food. She had expected Lord Kenilworth to sit next to her. What she had not expected was the impact his nearness had on her senses.
Throughout the meal, she’d had to force herself not to fidget. At times, when he leaned closer to her to make a comment, her breath shortened as if she had been running. Even taking his arm earlier had caused a shiver of excitement, and when he had kissed her hands she had wanted to fan herself. She did not know what to do with her reactions to him. Harrington had never caused her to be so unsettled or breathless.
Finally, just as she thought she would jump out of her skin, Grace rose. “Ladies, let us leave the gentlemen.”
Thank God! It was all Charlotte could do not to dash out of the room.
Kenilworth assisted her to rise and his bare hand on her equally bare elbow almost singed her.
“My lady?” His brows had drawn together slightly, his emerald eyes appeared confused.
She ignored his inquiry and curtseyed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Once she was with Grace and Dotty in the drawing room, Charlotte went immediately to the piano and began to play. The music flowed from her fingers as the keys responded to her hectic nerves, allowing her to calm.
A few minutes later, she closed the lid and stood. “I do not know how I will make it through the rest of the evening.”
Dotty handed Charlotte a glass of wine. “Drink some.”
Grace patted the seat next to her. “What exactly is the problem?”
“I don’t know.” Charlotte sank onto the sofa, wineglass firmly in hand. “It is Lord Kenilworth. When he touches me even in the most formal way, I feel it. This—these sensations started a few days ago, and I do not know what to do about them.”
Dotty tilted her head first right then left, as if studying Charlotte from both angles would enlighten her. “Did you have the same reaction to him when he took you for the carriage rides?”
Charlotte thought about it for a moment. “Yes and no. At first his touch just warmed me, but it did not make me uncomfortable, but lately . . .”
Grace moved to face her. “Uncomfortable in what way?”
“I do not know how to explain it.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment.
“Let me try.” Dotty took Charlotte’s hands. “You feel a tingle or a shiver when he is near.”
“Yes.” Thank the Fates someone understood. “And tonight it was more intense than before. I thought his fingers would burn me.”
Her friend leaned back in her chair. “I think you need to kiss him.”
“But I don’t want to.” Dotty raised her brows. Charlotte never had been able to lie to her dearest friend. Since Lord Kenilworth had arrived, she’d had a difficult time keeping her eyes from his lips. Still, that was the very reason she should not kiss him. “Not yet. Not when I do not know what I feel for him.”
“It sounds to me as if you desire him and, for some reason, you are fighting your emotions.”
That was not what Charlotte wanted to hear. “Grace?”
“I think Dotty has a point.” Charlotte opened her mouth to protest, and her sister held up her hand. “But only you can decide if you are ready to take that step. I am certainly not going to tell you to kiss him if you are not ready.”
She jumped up and started toward the piano again. “This would have been much easier if I had met him in the normal course of the Season. Or if I had not seen him at the theater with his mistress—”
“Or,” Dotty said, “if I had not told you about the poor women Miss Betsy had abducted and used so badly.”
Charlotte rushed back to her friend. “Please do not blame yourself. Even Grace said we should know.”
“If only his courtship was not playing out in full view of the ton,” Grace mused. “I know that is how it is normally done, but I think you would be better served if it was otherwise.”
“Particularly as it is so late in the Season and there isn’t anyone else to provide entertainment at the moment,” Dotty added.
“Yes.” Charlotte sighed. “And Harrington’s behavior is not helping.”
“This is most likely not the time to tell you”—Dotty grimaced—“but Dom and I are going to a property he has in Surrey for a few days.”
That was not what Charlotte wanted to hear. “When do you plan to depart?”
“Late tomorrow morning. We will only be gone for a few days.”
Other than wish her cousins a good trip, there was nothing she could say that would not sound selfish.
A few moments later, Royston entered with the tea tray and the gentlemen followed on his heels. Grace poured, and Charlotte handed out the cups. She moved to the window seat, allowing her sister to speak with Matt privately.
Kenilworth followed, taking a chair near where she sat. “I cannot believe the change that has been wrought in Merton. He seems almost like a different man.”
Had Kenilworth not noticed her unease? No, at most he might think something was wrong but preferred not to address it. “Matt says he is much more like his father now.”
“I am too young to have known the old marquis, but my father liked him a great deal.” He took a sip of tea. “He seems greatly attached to Lady Merton.”
Charlotte slid a look to where Dotty and Merton stood talking to Matt and Grace. For the first time she noticed the small touches and looks they gave each other. Matt and Grace engaged in the same silent communication. “Yes. They are very much in love.”
“I hear your sister and Rothwell formed a love match as well.”
“They did. My parents also had a love match. It is a tradition in both the Carpenter and Vivers families.” Except for poor Patience, Matt’s step-mother, but she was now happily in love and married as well.
“I see.” His words were thoughtful, but he did not expound upon them.
But what did he see? Would it change what was going on between them?
Matt rose. “We must depart.”
Well, of all the bad timing. Yet, by the time their party arrived at the ball, the first set was underway.
“I believe the next dance is a waltz,” Kenilworth whispered, his lips so close to her ear she once again fought off the shivers his breath caused. She wanted to lean closer, but held herself rigid, fighting her reaction, just as Dotty had observed.
She and Kenilwor
th fell back from the rest of their group as friends she had not seen recently stopped them to wish them happy. This evening, she felt less like a fraud and wondered if it was because some part of her was growing to care for him.
“What I want to know, Kenilworth,” one of the gentlemen said, “is how you managed to escape most of the events of the Season and still end up with one of the Graces.”
“The Graces?” Turning to Charlotte he raised a dark sable brow.
Of course he would not know. Dotty, Louisa, and Charlotte were thrilled when they had first heard the sobriquet. “It was an appellation given to Lady Merton, my sister Louisa, and me.”
“Then it is only right that since the other two Graces are wed, the last should be as well.” He grinned, lightening his visage and making him even more handsome. There was not a lady here who would understand her hesitation in marrying him. “The Fates were with me.”
“They must have been,” another gentleman grumbled.
“Don’t mind Ruffington,” Lord Endicott said. “He is having a run of bad luck. Lady Charlotte”—he bowed— “may I steal you away from your betrothed for this next waltz?”
Kenilworth’s arm tightened, and he placed his fingers over her hand. “No, you may not.”
He had been acting like a dog with a bone for days now, but this was the first time he had actually said anything. Yet she did not dislike his possessiveness. He sounded so much like Merton when he and Dotty were newly engaged, that Charlotte had to put her hand over her mouth to stop from laughing. “This set is spoken for. Perhaps the next country dance, my lord.”
“Only if Kenilworth stops looking as if he’d like to run me through.” Endicott bowed and strolled toward a group of young ladies.
By the time Charlotte and Kenilworth had reached her sister, the violins were beginning to play the first strands of the waltz. Dotty and Merton were already making their way to the dance floor.
Matt looked at Grace. “Come, my love.”
“I would be delighted.” She smiled at him, love shining in her eyes. “It is so much nicer dancing with you when you have only Charlotte to watch out for.”
Kenilworth raised Charlotte’s hand to his lips, and the sensations began again. “Shall we?”
Were her friend and sister correct? Did this mean she liked him more than she let on, even to herself? “Indeed.”
The moment he took her in his arms, her world tilted. She felt as if her slippers had left the ground, and she was twirling on air. “I have meant to tell you that you dance well.”
“It is easy when one has a partner who responds as if she knows my every move.” He searched her eyes as if they could read her thoughts. “What confuses you so?”
Apparently he did know what was in her mind. That was a relief. “You. My reaction to you.”
“We will figure it out.” His tone was deep and firm. As if he knew what to do, how to help her.
If only she trusted he was right. But how could she trust him when she did not even know her own feelings?
Chapter Twenty
This was Con and Charlotte’s second waltz of the evening. Some of the other guests slid looks at them telling Con they were the subject of speculation and gossip. He had done his utmost to ensure the ton knew Charlotte was his. All that was needed was a formal announcement.
Most importantly, Charlotte was finally beginning to soften in his arms, slowly trust him like a nervous filly. He was now certain he would have her as his wife. He’d have to make sure he brought her along gradually, something he’d never had to do with a female before. All his women had been experienced.
He cringed at the thought of Aimée. How many of his other mistresses had been forced into the same life and pretended to like it? Not all of them, he supposed, but too many.
Merton had mentioned the charities he and his wife had established for ladies and other women and children who had been preyed upon by brothel owners and procurers. According to Worthington, Charlotte already contributed far more of her pin money to those causes than she should.
That, Con was discovering, was exactly what he would expect from her. He would take up the cause as well. It would give them one more thing in common, and it was the honorable choice.
He gave her a reassuring smile and tightened his hold on her waist. She wasn’t at all sure about his courting her, but she was giving him a chance to redeem himself in her eyes. And he had been doing his best.
A strange flutter caused his chest to tighten, and he knew his earlier possessiveness would last the rest of his life, as would his desire to protect her.
“You look very severe all of a sudden.” She smiled, and the tightness in his chest increased. “What are you thinking about?”
“You. Us.” His voice sounded as if he had not been speaking all evening—or perhaps talking too much.
A crease formed between her brows, marring the smooth beauty of her skin. “Do you wish you had not agreed—”
“No. The furthest thing from it. I wish there was more I could do to make you feel better about my courting you.” One day in the very near future he would have to figure out just what his feelings for her were. Sometime this evening, they had grown beyond merely wanting her to something else. Something deeper. An answer to Lady Worthington’s question the day he took the children for ices.
The corners of her lips tipped up. “It has not all been bad.”
“We do seem to agree on many issues, and enjoy spending time together.” At least he enjoyed being with her.
“Yes, we do.” She said the words slowly, as if she had not thought about it before.
The set ended. She curtseyed, he bowed, and he made a decision. Taking her hand, he placed it on his arm. “Will you come with me?”
A slight look of hesitation formed on her countenance. “To where?”
“Trust me. I will not harm you, or worsen our situation.” Con stilled, praying Charlotte would go with him.
“Very well.” Once again, she seemed to be working out her path as she spoke.
He threaded their way through the crowd to the French windows closest to them. Turning right, they strolled to the end of the terrace, and there, in the shadows where no one could see them, he placed his hands on her small waist. “I want to kiss you. Like we did before.”
She could not know that it had been years since he’d experienced such an innocent kiss. Back then the innocence had been on his part.
Charlotte stared at him, as if she would discover something she didn’t know. Finally, she nodded. “Yes.”
He lowered his head, and their lips touched. He moved his mouth over hers, waiting for her to return the caress, then she placed her hands on his cheeks, raised up, and kissed him back. The purity in her touch almost brought him to his knees.
“Thank you.” Con touched his forehead to hers.
Even in the dark, he could see her blush. “You are welcome.”
He brushed his mouth across hers again. “We should go back now.”
Charlotte hadn’t known what to expect, but she had not expected a kiss as sweet as Kenilworth’s. Once, she had seen Merton kiss Dotty. That kiss had been demanding and full of passion. If Kenilworth had attempted anything like that, Charlotte would have hit him hard and run. Yet now, now that she had felt his lips on hers again and his hands tightening around her waist, she almost looked forward to the other type of kiss.
But not tonight. Not when her comfort with him was still growing and fragile.
Reaching up, she brushed her mouth against his as he’d done to her. “Yes. We should return.”
His body tensed. Even the muscles in his lean face seemed like steel. “You will be the death of me.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “No one has ever said that to me before, my lord.”
Kenilworth groaned, and she laughed lightly.
“I would like it if you called me Con or Constantine.”
She had insisted on being more formal than most betrothed couples
only because she was not sure they were truly engaged. Yet now, mayhap, it was time to move forward.
They did have a great deal in common. She had been surprised when he told her that he insisted all his dependents, not just the children, learn the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic. She had heard him talking with Merton about the charities in which he, Dotty, and Charlotte were involved, and he seemed interested in them. Kenilworth was turning out to be a much better man than she had thought possible. And there was the physical connection she had with him that she had not experienced with another gentleman.
She did not know if she was in love, but she would give herself permission to discover what she felt. “Constantine, if you wish. It is a strong name. You may call me Charlotte.”
He drew her gently into his arms and they kissed again. “Charlotte, we must go back now. Before anyone comes looking for us.”
After the next waltz, they joined her family for supper. Matt found a table, and, as usual, he took Constantine and Merton off to select food for the ladies.
Ever since she and Constantine—she really did like his name—had reentered the ballroom, Dotty had been shooting Charlotte questioning looks.
Now her friend leaned close and asked, “Well?”
Her sister was studiously ignoring them as if she did not wish to overhear the conversation. Charlotte held her hand to the side of her mouth just the same and said, “I kissed him.”
Dotty’s smile grew. “And?”
“I liked it. I was very apprehensive at first and almost refused to go outside with him, but he did not attempt to go too far, and—and I liked kissing him.”
“Charlotte, I’m so happy for you.” Dotty’s eyes misted a bit. “I want you to find love, and I think you have, or will do soon.” She blew her nose. “If you have any questions, just ask. Or if anything he does frightens you, tell me.”
“I shall.” Charlotte did not think Constantine would harm her or even scare her, but she was grateful for the offers of aid and advice.
The gentlemen returned and Constantine sat next to her, serving her lobster patties, small mushroom tarts, asparagus wrapped in wafer-thin slices of ham, and ices. This time when he brushed against her, or spoke, his breath caressing her ear, she could allow herself to enjoy the pleasurable sensations he caused, and not run from them.