‘It is—and now that the deed is well and truly done, we have to decide how we proceed...and how quickly we do so.’
‘As the house is awaking, I think speed is of the essence and you should go before you are discovered, and I am thoroughly ruined.’
He traced his finger down her arm with a wolfish smile. ‘As I recall it, your thorough ruination has already happened...but you know full well I wasn’t talking about now, I was talking about the future. Our future, Charity.’
Shyly, she smiled back, her battered heart racing as it filled with hope. ‘Our future, Griff?’ Perhaps she had been hasty and he was about to make it all right. ‘Do we have one?’
‘Well obviously.’ He sat up and took her hand, then stared at it for the longest time before he sighed. ‘I took your virginity, so it goes without saying that I have to marry you.’
Have to. Not want to.
Her heart plummeted at the cruel distinction.
‘You have to do nothing of the sort.’ She snatched her hand away and forced herself to stare at him in complete disgust despite the choking tentacles of emotion coiling around her throat. ‘And neither do I.’ She would not cry in front of him. Would not give him that pleasure of seeing how those latest thoughtless words wounded. ‘Now, for the love of God, go. Get dressed and get out...then let us never speak of this again.’
He had the gall to look hurt at his dismissal. ‘Charity?’
‘I said get out, Griff!’ She stood, taking all the covers with her, needing to put distance between them and the mattress she had disgraced herself on. ‘Before someone discovers you here! Because I can assure you, last night was my biggest mistake and I would rather die an old maid than spend eternity shackled to you on the back of it!’
He absorbed that like a body blow, his expression momentarily distraught until the distant sound of a servant moving around downstairs galvanised him into action and he reluctantly stood, oblivious of his own nudity and came towards her, placating. ‘Let’s not argue again now, Charity...not when things are all so fresh and unexpected and our emotions are so close to the surface.’ His hands found her waist and tugged her closer, and like an idiot she gratefully went into his arms, revelling in the solid feel of his chest and the comfort of the closeness.
‘I am not denying that it was a huge mistake and that it’s made a dreadful mess—but we’ll find a way to make the best of it, I promise.’ He kissed the top of her head, blissfully unaware he had just stuck the knife in further before he twisted it. ‘Give me the morning to rearrange things at the factory and then this afternoon we’ll talk rationally. I know this isn’t quite what either of us wanted or even envisaged for our futures...because never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would end up with you...but a wedding doesn’t have to mean the end of the world. We’ll find a way to make it work.’
Surely that had to be one of the most depressing and begrudging marriage proposals ever offered?
He took her silence as compliance and quickly dressed, his reassuring smile false, clearly eager to be gone. She let him go without argument, turning her cheek as he went to kiss her mouth in case her greedy lips disgraced her when she wanted him gone too. Then, more alone than she had ever felt before, Charity diligently set herself and the room to rights as if removing all the evidence of her rash stupidity might erase the last nine hours.
It didn’t and so she sat for the longest time on the window seat, staring out as the sun slowly rose above the horizon, digesting every subtle but cruel insult of the most damning ten minutes of her life.
It never occurred to me I would be your first.
Have to marry.
Huge mistake.
Dreadful mess.
Not what I wanted.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would end up with you.
Exactly how were they supposed to make a marriage work when he thought of her in those terms? And how was she supposed to bear it?
It was only when Lily bustled in cheerfully, looking rested and happy after a night sleeping beside her beloved husband Evan, that the tears finally fell.
‘What on earth’s the matter, Miss Charity?’
‘I want to go home, Lily. Today... Will you and Evan take me?’
‘But Mr Philpot has his work...’
‘I can’t stay here with him, Lily...please...’
‘If you’ve argued again, I am sure it can be fixed.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, crumpling in her maid’s arms, ashamed and broken and so very lost. ‘This can’t...not when he’s made his feelings plain and...’ Why did Griff’s words hurt so much more than Denby’s engagement? ‘He loathes me, Lily. He always has.’
‘He doesn’t.’ Her maid stroked her hair exactly as Griff had earlier. ‘He adores you. In fact, if I might be so bold, Miss Charity, of late I’ve suspected you were both developing much deeper feelings for one another.’ She had been developing deeper feelings. Griff had been politely masking his. ‘And when that sort of affection complicates things...’
Charity shook her head violently, too wounded to discuss that incorrect theory any further. ‘Please don’t talk about it, Lily. Or him... Just take me home to my family. Right this minute... I beg of you. Please. I cannot stay here.’
Chapter Thirteen
The Duke and Duchess of Loughton have spared no expense for their only son’s wedding ball...
Whispers from Behind the Fan
—August 1815
Charity slowly sipped her peppermint tea and tried to pay attention to the conversation wafting around her and stay as still as a statue while Lily fussed with her hair.
‘I have such fond memories of this dress.’ Behind her in the mirror, Faith held the scarlet watered silk gown against her body and swayed with a dreamy expression on her face.
‘As do I.’ From the mattress, her raised legs and swollen ankles flat against the headboard, Hope too beamed as she idly rubbed her ridiculously protruding pregnant belly. ‘And seeing as it is the gown in which we both first waltzed with our future husbands, and our baby sister knows the significance of that better than anyone, it does beggar the question as to why she is suddenly adamant she is wearing it tonight?’ They both turned to stare at her intently, twin expressions of curiosity on their smiling faces. ‘Have you met someone, Charity? Has a worthy gentleman finally swept you off your feet?’
The chance or the inclination would be a fine thing.
After the trauma and heartbreak of Sheffield two months ago, she was right off men and in no hurry to set her cap at another one any time soon. If ever. The stunning and seductive red gown was a handy prop to get through tonight and nothing more. A defiant show of confidence to all and sundry that she wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by Lord Denby’s impending nuptials, no matter what the gossip columns said to the contrary. And to prove it, she would dance with a string of eligible and handsome men and flirt with them all outrageously while she did so to force them to print something different. Because thinking of Denby inevitably made her think of Griff and that horrific morning, and the pain of his words would cut her again. Not that she would admit any of that to anyone—even to her beloved sisters.
‘When would I have the time to meet someone? With seven performances of Figaro a week, I barely have time to eat nowadays, let alone flirt, as Lily will no doubt attest.’
‘You have the time, Miss Charity, and I certainly bring the food to you before you head to the theatre, but it is you who chooses not to eat it.’ The maid’s eyes locked with hers in the mirror, the concern in them evident. ‘She barely eats enough to sustain a bird lately and I am worried about her. Just look at how pale she is.’
‘Now that you mention it, she does look a little peaky, Lily.’ Faith peered over her shoulder at her sister’s reflection in the mirror. ‘Have you lost weight too?’
‘I a
m merely a little under the weather.’
‘By that she means she ails from something but refuses point blank to admit it in case your mother makes her rest. Heaven forbid she disappoint an audience.’
‘I am not ill.’ She glared at Lily through the glass. ‘I have contracted a minor summer cold which is proving to be a little stubborn to shift. That is all.’ A shocking lie when some days she could barely get out of bed.
‘Because she is burning the candle at both ends.’ Lily had been nagging her for weeks to take some time off and she didn’t know the half of it because she was her mother’s maid first and foremost and dear Mama had been blessedly busy with her own work of late so they barely crossed paths. ‘Endless rehearsals in the daytime and a performance nearly every night bar Sundays—and two additional matinees—she is pushing herself too hard.’
‘But it is a nice problem to have.’ Charity forced a smile she didn’t feel for her sisters’ benefits. ‘The theatre has offered to extend the run again until the end of September, isn’t that marvellous?’ Burying herself in work numbed the pain, even if the relentless march of performances left her more exhausted than she had ever felt in her life and no less miserable.
‘I hope you haven’t accepted.’ Faith was still scrutinising her reflection like a mother hen. ‘You’ve been working non-stop for months now and Lily is right, you do need a break. Such a punishing pace isn’t healthy and soon takes its toll. That is exactly why Mama never accepts a run of more than three months, and now that you have made a name for yourself, you should probably do the same.’
Charity brushed that away, instantly regretting the sudden movement as another wave of nausea washed over her. ‘Mama has a quarter of a century on me and if it wasn’t for this temporary malaise I would be as right as ninepence, exactly as I always am. This silly ailment will be fully gone in a matter of days and I already feel much better than I did yesterday.’ She took another cautious sip of her tea to calm her roiling stomach. ‘Anyway, it is only another month and the theatre are doubling my salary for the privilege. I had to sign—I’d have been an absolute fool to turn it down when things are going so well.’
Nobody looked convinced.
‘Charity!’ With perfect timing, their father’s voice bellowed up the stairs again to chivvy her for the umpteenth time. ‘The carriages are still waiting, and your menfolk are losing the will to live! Get yourself dressed this instant, girl, or I swear, as God is my witness, this time we’ll all leave for Mayfair without you!’
‘That’s his third warning in ten minutes so you’d best put this on.’ Faith held out the dress. ‘And knowing you, and despite being under the weather, this will become you most of all. You’ve always been the prettiest of the three of us and in this you will look stunning and will undoubtedly break more hearts than usual.’ Her big sister smiled, sudden sympathy in her eyes as if she sensed all was not well. Except, like Hope, they both assumed she wasn’t ill but heartbroken over Denby too, exactly like the newspapers did. ‘And you never know...as this gown clearly holds magical powers, maybe tonight you’ll waltz with your future husband too and fall hopelessly in love just as we did.’
As she gingerly stood, Faith grabbed her hands and twirled her in a circle, and to Charity’s mortification, her stomach’s reaction was instantaneous.
While she retched, Lily rushed forward with the washbowl in the nick of time and they all watched in horror as the peppermint tea and the single slice of toast she had choked down only an hour before made a sudden and violent reappearance.
* * *
Griff didn’t need to see her to know she had finally entered the ballroom. Every fibre of his being sensed her as the air instantly seemed to crackle around him.
‘I told you that she would come.’ Beside him, Dorothy waved at the Brookes family as they all filed in. ‘Charity is not the least bit disappointed that Lord Denby is getting married in the morning. I knew he wasn’t for her.’ She slanted him a knowing glance which he did his best to ignore. ‘Which leaves the field wide open, big Brother, for a better man to sweep her off her feet.’
He sipped his champagne to cover the shard of pain which sliced through him. ‘Doubtless it will not take her long to find a worthy replacement.’ One who reached her lofty ideals of what the perfect husband would be.
It certainly wasn’t him.
She had made that quite plain in the letter she had left him two months ago on his nightstand the morning she had fled. It was short but not the least bit sweet as she had reiterated her assertion that their night together had been the biggest mistake of her life and one which she implored him to keep to himself in case it spoiled her chances elsewhere. If the harsh words in the letter weren’t clear enough, then her refusal to even as much as see him when he had chased her back to London on horseback had been.
After he had patiently waited out of sight on the corner of Bedford Place for hours until her parents went out and she was alone, it had been Lily who came to the door and resolutely refused to let him past it. Then the maid had told him, kindly, but in no uncertain terms, that Charity’s feelings had changed since Sheffield and that he needed to be gentleman enough to accept that and stop making a pest of himself.
As he absorbed that blow, he had felt her eyes on him. But when he had looked up to see Charity staring stonily out of the window, she had curled her lip in distaste and then regally walked away without as much as a backwards glance.
He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the minx since.
Largely because he had retreated back to Sheffield like a coward that same day with his tail between his legs and his heart bleeding, trying to be that gentleman and hoping the distance and the reliable conundrum of his steam engines might make all the pain of Charity’s callous rejection disappear.
It hadn’t, of course, and it ate away at him until the intense pull of her had lured him back this morning. Though to do what, he still had no earthly clue. Part of him needed the closure of a face-to-face conversation to accept that their relationship had ended, the greater part still wanted to change her mind.
As Dorothy and his parents rushed forward to greet their oldest and dearest friends, he stayed put and risked gazing at her, then immediately regretted it as the sight of her fair stole his breath away.
Typically, she had become separated from her parents, waylaid at the door by a horde of eager suitors who all wanted a coveted spot on her dance card. She beamed at them all as she divvied up the dances, her blue eyes sparkling and her golden curls shimmering beneath the crystal chandeliers, outshining every other woman present without trying.
The confident red gown she had picked was, of course, a triumph. The bold colour doing wonders for her complexion and the simple cut doing sinful things to her figure. It went without saying that it suited her because everything suited Charity, but somehow it amplified her beauty and her effortless sensuality, drawing the eyes of almost every man in the room from the youngest buck to the silver-haired patriarchs whose bucking days were long over. Their advanced age made no difference. Even those men could dream and by the twinkle in every male eye which turned, they all were. All trying to imagine what it would be like to have her and hoping against hope that one day they just might.
Griff sympathised because he had been there, but what he knew, and what none of them did, was that the reality far surpassed any fantasy and that he likely would be better off not knowing how smooth her skin was beneath all that alluring red silk. Or how sensitive her pert breasts were, especially when kissed. Or that the curls between her legs were a shade darker than those on top of her head. Or how her earthy, breathy moans while her body pulsed and climaxed around his were more bewitching than her ethereal singing voice and that the reality that was Charity had ruined him for any other woman. He was hers now for ever—heart, body and soul—and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
As if she sensed him, s
he glanced up and her dazzling smile slipped momentarily before she ruthlessly pasted it back on for the hordes. Then, and doubtless to avoid him, she bestowed her gloved hand on one of them and he led her to the dance floor, his chest puffed with pride and his eyes hopelessly filled with lust.
‘Hello, Griff.’ He had been so transfixed, he hadn’t noticed her sister come to stand beside him. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages. Months in fact.’
Ridiculously off-kilter, he smiled, turning his back on Charity in case his eyes gave him away before he kissed her cheek. ‘Hope! How are you?’
‘As fat as a house, thank you very much, and thoroughly fed up about it.’
‘It’ll be over soon.’ He glanced at her belly in sympathy. ‘Or at least according to my mother it will be, and you know she views herself as the world’s greatest expert on childbirth. She’s plumped for next week in the Philpot sweepstake and is so confident of it she’s wagered ten guineas.’
‘Next week...’ She absorbed this news as if it were bad. ‘That’s an eternity.’
He shrugged in sympathy. ‘It’s only seven days, Hope...and that’s assuming it takes all seven for Baby Thundersley to appear. You do look about to burst at any moment.’
‘Easy for you to say when I haven’t seen my feet since June and cannot get out of a chair any more unless someone hoists me out of it.’ She idly rubbed her bump. ‘Enough about my misery, how are you? All recovered from your jaunt up north with our annoying baby sisters? You got the short straw there, you poor thing. I have no doubt Charity ran you ragged as penance for curtailing her freedoms. Was it as awful as I suspect it was?’
Not a subject he wanted to be drawn on. ‘It had its moments.’
Hope stared at the dance floor and smiled with affection. ‘I can imagine. And I can also imagine you managed to thwart her more times than not, which also explains why she looks like she is sucking a lemon each time your name comes up in conversation.’ A depressing discovery which didn’t bode well for his cause. ‘Clearly she still isn’t over whatever tiff you had before she hightailed it home.’
How Not to Chaperon a Lady--A sexy, funny Regency romance Page 13