Charlene would scale back her pleas and hope that his good nature came through and that once she’d had a chance to talk to the jurors, he would offer to help her prove her father’s innocence.
If she could only be patient, then she was sure that he would help her.
He was a good man. Or at least, he had been ten years ago, when she had first met him.
Charlene felt a chill go through her. She hadn’t seen Eric since he was barely a man. What if the world had changed him? Or what if her memories weren’t true to life?
What if he didn’t care at all about Dr. Ellington’s case? Or worse, what if he spread word of this indiscretion around?
She felt her cheeks flame at the very thought. Aunt Helene would murder her, and she’d have no choice but to say goodbye to her position as a chaperone for young women like Matilda.
Not only that, but it could hurt her father’s case. Show their family in an unfavorable light. Charlene should have thought this through better.
For a long moment, Eric continued to stare at her. She could practically see him thinking things through. What would he get from helping her?
Charlene couldn’t help but feel disappointed. But then again, what had she expected, that he would drop everything to help her out? Of course she could never hope for that.
Finally, though, he sighed and ducked his head. “I did promise you that if you ever needed help, you would but ask,” he said quietly. He gave a brittle laugh, and Charlene realized right then how little he actually wanted to have to do with her.
At least, that was what she thought. In actual fact, Eric just couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that this was the reason that she had finally deigned to talk to him.
After ten years, he supposed that he had hoped for something more. That she wouldn’t only speak to him because she needed something from him.
He had always hoped that she would respond to one of his letters, that she would finally agree that the two of them could be friends.
Charlene didn’t know that though. Instead, she just couldn’t help but feel like an idiot for asking. What’s more, she had told her aunt that she would find some way to make things right for Father.
Aunt Helene was counting on her. Their family’s fate hung in the balance – all on this chance. She should have known better than to think that there was any way that Eric, a lord, a duke, would help out her poor family.
Charlene swallowed hard. “If you cannot help us, then it is fine,” she forced herself to say. There was nothing more that she could do, and she felt bad for even asking.
“You and your father did save my life,” Eric said begrudgingly. “And I am a man of my word.”
Charlene shook her head. “I’ll not have you held to your word if doing so puts you in an uncomfortable position,” she told him, even though she could think of no other way, without his help, to save her father’s life.
She would have to figure it out, though. She couldn’t drag down Eric’s reputation by forcing him to help out her family. He had been young when he made that promise; he couldn’t have foreseen what the consequences of helping her would be.
Besides, what right did she have to ask him to throw his lot with theirs? He had written her so many letters over the past decade, and she had answered only one.
Yet here she was now, when she needed his help, acting as though she had any right to ask it of him.
“It’s not that it puts me in an uncomfortable position,” Eric said, catching her wrist as she started to turn away from him. Energy crackled between the two of them, and Charlene found herself thinking back to that one, sweet kiss that they had shared, so long ago now.
It of course wasn’t the first time that she had thought about it in the intervening years. Especially when she’d first been introduced to court, she had spent so many nights wondering if she would ever find a husband to kiss her with tenderness like that.
As the other young ladies of society gossiped about what it would feel like to have that first kiss, she’d had to stay quiet, thinking back to that stolen moment with a lord – now a duke.
There had been dreams of…more, too. Not that she really knew what more would entail. But she had found herself imagining Eric kissing his way down her whole body.
Those dreams never went further than kissing, but even the kissing was enough to have her waking up warm and wanting.
Nothing had ever come of her introduction to court, though, and now she wondered if that one kiss, when she was just fourteen, was the only kiss that she would ever enjoy.
And that kiss, itself, had been over before she’d really gotten a chance to enjoy it.
On her darker days, Charlene wondered if that kiss was the reason that no one was ever interested in courting her. Perhaps somehow she was tarnished, marked as someone who had been kissed already.
She knew that no one had seen them, but she couldn’t help thinking that everyone knew.
That was ridiculous, though. Of course it was her own actions, more than anything that Eric had ever done, that made her ineligible to be someone’s wife. She wondered if Eric knew about all of that.
“Why didn’t you ever write back to me?” Eric asked quietly, still not letting go of Charlene’s wrist. His fingers were warm, lightly calloused. Strong.
Charlene had no desire to break away from him. In fact, she found herself hoping that he would pull her closer, up against his chest, that he would kiss her again. Instead, he just stared seriously down at her, his eyes unreadable.
Charlene ducked her head, shrugging uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. “It wouldn’t have been proper,” she said quietly. He was a duke. Rich, popular, and so powerful that Charlene found herself feeling overwhelmed by him. There was such a gap between them; didn’t he realize that?
“Last I heard, Miss Charlene Ellington didn’t care much for propriety,” Eric said, and the woman flinched.
She risked a look up at him, suddenly curious. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?” she asked. Suddenly, she realized that he must have been.
He knew exactly where to address his letters to every time. They never failed to reach her, whether she was in Bath or London or otherwise. But why would he do that?
He was one of the most desirable bachelors in all of England, and Charlene was just a poor spinster ‘on the shelf’, the doctor’s daughter. The gap between them couldn’t have been wider.
This time, Eric was the one to step back and turn away. Was it possible that somehow Charlene interested him, she wondered? That he thought of her fondly? He had kissed her that once, after all.
But of course that wasn’t it. Eric finally shrugged. “You saved my life, once,” he reminded her. “I just…appreciated that. That’s all.”
That was all. Of course.
Charlene nodded at him. “Well, I suppose I should get back to the ball, before I’m missed,” she told him. “Matilda shouldn’t be left alone for too long.” She paused. “Don’t worry about what I said before. About Father. I have some other ideas for how to help him. I understand that you can’t get involved.”
It was a lie; she didn’t have any idea how to help him. She thought that Eric might call her out on it. After all, why would she have summoned him here if she had any other way to save her father? This was uncomfortable for the both of them. But Eric chose to overlook that.
He nodded at her. “Of course,” he said. Charlene could tell that there was something more that he wanted to say, but whatever it was, he held back. “It was good to see you, Charlene,” he added quietly as she reached the door.
Charlene paused, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. What more was there to say? She had asked for his help, and he had reminded her that she was overstepping the boundaries of their acquaintance. Had it been good to see him?
Honestly, seeing him only made her long for one more kiss, to last her the rest of her life. Something to treasure, something to remember.
But she co
uld hardly turn around, go back to him, and kiss him now. It just wouldn’t have been right. It wouldn’t have been welcomed.
She pulled open the door and headed back to the ballroom, unable to shake her feelings of disappointment and heartache.
Chapter 6
Lord Eric Cumberland, Duke of Havenport
Eric felt his hands clench into fists as Charlene walked out the door of the library. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to run after her, to call her back, to discuss the details of her father’s case with her in more detail.
He knew that he ought to offer her his help, to make sure that she knew that he would of course still help her, and not only because he had given her his word.
He wanted to help her, because it was the right thing to do. Not only that, though, he wanted to help her because he cared about her.
Somehow, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t heard from her in all these years, he still cared about her. Seeing her up close again only made him want her more than he had even back when he was younger and foolish.
He couldn’t have her. He knew that. At the same time, though, he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure that she was all right.
Some charisma that the woman had, perhaps, or his own silly heart falling instantly in love with a beautiful woman.
He couldn’t run after her, though. Talking with her in the library was scandalous enough. If he chased her down the hallway and talked to her where anyone might see, it would be another thing entirely.
Besides, he still felt hurt. He had just wanted something more from her. He knew that he couldn’t ask for that. She was undoubtedly right when she said that it would have been improper for her to write back to him.
If those letters had fallen into the wrong hands, who knew what society would have made of it. Somehow, that had never occurred to him before. Or if it had, he had pushed those thoughts away from his mind.
He couldn’t help feeling that he had ruined his relationship with her, even though it had been minimal to begin with. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him at all before, and now she had even less reason to do so.
Not only that, but he hadn’t had the chance to say all of the things that he’d wanted to say to her. Like how he had missed her. How he kept wondering how she was doing. He knew that she wasn’t married; was that her choice or were the men of England just blind and stupid?
He wanted to tell her that he never forgot how beautiful she was. That he remembered that kiss that they had once shared and that he would like nothing more than to repeat that now.
It felt wrong to admit any of that, though. She clearly wasn’t thinking back to that kiss. She clearly didn’t feel the same way about him.
He sighed and rubbed at his temples. No matter how hurt he was, it hadn’t been right to turn her away. He wondered if there was anything that he could do to help her with her father.
But when she had left, it had seemed clear that Charlene no longer wanted him to get involved. She had kept herself so carefully away from him for the last ten years, and he had to assume that leaving her alone was the best course of action.
She said, after all, that she had other ideas for how to help Dr. Ellington. He didn’t want to interfere.
Charlene didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. She was just as competent and self-assured as she had ever been. That, at least, made Eric smile.
He had no desire to return to the ball, after this encounter. To see her there, across the room, to know that he had let her down?
It would simply be too much for him. He wouldn’t be able to leave her be, to ignore her. Yet that was precisely what he needed to do.
Instead, he left. Headed home by himself, thinking of his terrible deed. He had promised her that if she ever needed help, then he would be there for her. He had spent the last ten years telling himself that he cared about her. And yet.
He wondered about the charges against her father. He couldn’t imagine Dr. Ellington doing anything to harm a man.
Not that Eric knew the other man particularly well, but he remembered the care he had received at the other man’s hands. Besides, was not Charlene’s personality a reflection of her father’s? And Charlene, he was sure, would never hurt a fly.
The allegations were serious. Eric knew that the doctor could be sentenced to death for what he had purportedly done. How was Charlene dealing with it?
She must be distraught. Yet the other consequence of refusing to help her was that he could neither console her.
He sighed and kicked at a loose stone, watching it skitter down the road in front of him.
The night was clear and beautiful, but the only thing he could think about was Charlene, back at the ball, feeling disappointed in him.
Of course, he should have known that, with his abrupt departure, he had only opened himself up to lewd questions from his friends.
The next day at midmorning, Percy and Dalton showed up at his manor-home, leering at him. “Had a good night, did you?” Percy was the first to ask. “She’s not still here, is she? Are we interrupting anything?”
“Who?” Eric snapped, not in the mood for boasts and brags. He hadn’t slept well the previous night. What sleep he had managed, when he finally got his whirling thoughts to leave him alone, had been troubled.
He had seen Charlene there in his dreams, her eyes accusing. In one of his dreams, she had been crying, but when he stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder, intending to comfort her, she faded out of sight and he knew that she was gone forever.
“Miss Ellington,” Dalton said, as though it was obvious. “Don’t worry, we explained away your absence at the ball last night. Said that you were feeling under the weather but wished your hosts well.”
“How was she, though?” Percy asked. He lowered his voice. “We did some inquiries, and apparently she’s known to be quite the prude. If you managed to split her legs in one night, you’re practically my hero.”
“I didn’t bed her,” the young duke said peevishly. “I didn’t kiss her. Hell, I didn’t even lay a hand on her.” Except to catch her wrist, when he initially thought that she would leave.
He imagined that he could still feel that soft skin beneath his fingertips, the faint beating of her pulse fluttering beneath his index. She hadn’t pulled away from him when he caught her like that. Instead, she had been utterly docile.
It had sent a thrill through him, making him wonder what else she might allow. What other liberties. Would she let him pull her close? Would she let him kiss her again?
He hadn’t dared to act on any of those impulses, though. And he certainly hadn’t told her how beautiful she was, or the real reason why he had hesitated when she asked for his help with her father’s jurors.
“Then what, pray tell, kept you from the rest of the ball?” Percy drawled, looking as though he was sure that he had caught Eric out where he must tell him the truth about his supposed dalliance. If only he had brought Charlene home the previous night. No matter how improper it would have been, if only they could have had one night together, to remember forever.
Instead, their friendship, if friendship it truly had been, was over, without anything more than the memory of one quick stolen kiss back when they were but children.
Eric turned away from his friends, giving an unhappy shrug. “I had some thinking to do,” he said. It wasn’t technically a lie.
Of course, both of his friends looked interested by that. “Perhaps we can help you with your thinking,” Dalton suggested. “I suppose it has something to do with Miss Ellington?”
“It does,” Eric admitted grudgingly. He knew that at this stage, if he didn’t tell them about the previous evening’s meeting, it would only make them more curious.
Who knew what sort of stories they might tell to themselves? The best way to curb gossip, Eric’s father had always maintained, was to ensure that all the truth was out in the open.
Eric stepped back to let his friends inside, ca
lling one of his servants to bring them drinks. Percy sprawled across the divan, while Dalton sat in one of the heavy armchairs that Eric’s father had always preferred.
Eric himself paced in front of the fireplace.
“Miss Ellington’s father, as I told you before, is a doctor in Bath. He saved my life when I was younger,” Eric began, trying to keep his tone neutral.
The last thing he needed was for the two of them to suspect that he was at all interested in Charlene as something more than a friend. He would never hear the end of it if they knew about his attraction to her.
“Whyever did she wish to meet you last night, if it wasn’t to come here with you?” Percy asked. Suddenly, his eyes twinkled dangerously. “Or is it that you had already had her, back in the library?”
A Wicked Scandal For The Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 4