‘I offered him a divorce after the baby is born and he declined so I am stuck. He’s convinced he can fix things.’
‘Do you want him to?’
She shrugged, not wanting to admit that she hoped he could but feared it was futile.
‘I want what you and Luke have and what Faith and Piers have. I want a husband who adores me, not one who suffers me because he has to. That plainly isn’t Griff.’
‘Perhaps it could be...if you give it time. As furious as I am at him, he has always been one of my favourite people.’
‘Then maybe you should have married him.’
‘I would have if any spark of attraction had simmered between us—he has an arsenal of good qualities and a girl could do much worse. There is clearly an attraction between the two of you however, else you wouldn’t have indulged in a rampant night of unbridled passion.’
‘That was a foolish mistake.’ One she wished hourly she could take back to make the pain it had caused go away.
‘A telling answer if ever there was one.’
She tapped her abdomen. ‘Well, it was a mistake.’
Hope grinned. ‘I was actually referring to what you didn’t say rather than what you did, sister dearest, because it has not gone unnoticed that you made no effort to deny that it was a night of rampant and unbridled passion so clearly there is something there.’
Charity’s cheeks combusted as she failed to stutter a convincing response. ‘Stop putting words into my mouth.’
‘I don’t need to.’ Hope licked the tip of her finger and pressed it against her face and made a sizzling noise. ‘They are written all over your face.’
Because it was, she hid behind a pillow. ‘I lost my head that night along with my virginity.’
‘Rampant, unbridled passion will do that. There is a strong attraction there and it is clearly mutual. Maybe you can build on that?’
‘Fleeting lust isn’t love or adoration and one night of passion in a lifetime of disdain isn’t a firm enough foundation to build anything upon.’
‘One night? I take it you and he haven’t repeated...’
‘No...’ Charity risked lowering the pillow. ‘Not since York. It’s all too awkward.’
Faith chose that moment to poke her head around the door and huffed. ‘There you are, Charity! Thank goodness! We were about to send out a search party!’
‘What’s happened?’
‘There’s an expectant father downstairs in a flap, searching for you everywhere, convinced you are lying prostrate on the floor ill and probably dying and no amount of reason will convince him otherwise. He’s beside himself with worry. You have to come and put him out of his misery this instant as I’ve never seen poor Griff in such a state.’
Hope’s eyebrows raised knowingly. ‘That sounds like adoration to me.’
Charity waved it away. ‘He’s just being overprotective because I’ve been so unwell and he feels responsible, that’s all.’
Her middle sister pondered that for a moment and then frowned. ‘Perhaps that explains this particular outburst of overprotectiveness—but it doesn’t explain all the others.’
‘What others?’
‘Insisting on chaperoning you to the North, for a start, when I am sure he had better things to do.’
‘He didn’t want me leading Dorothy astray and told me so.’
‘And then there was that night at Vauxhall when I am sure he thought Luke had designs on seducing you instead of me. He was rather proprietorial then, wasn’t he?’
‘That was to protect Dorothy too because he is convinced I am a bad influence on her.’
‘Now that you mention it,’ said Faith catching on to the thread quickly, ‘I have noticed Griff watching you a lot since he returned. You specifically and not Dottie.’
‘So have I!’ Hope nodded. ‘He couldn’t take his eyes off you at Denby’s ball. I put it down to the fact the pair of you had clearly fallen out in the north but perhaps it wasn’t. And he did break with all tradition and waltz with you that night too, when Griff never dances. To be frank, I wasn’t even aware that he could dance until I saw him twirling you!’
‘And let us not forget you were wearing the infamous scarlet dress, Charity!’ Faith was wide-eyed now as she pointed at her. ‘Perhaps it has worked its magic again?’ Then she sighed. ‘Which is rather romantic actually...’
‘He was merely rescuing me from an amorous suitor.’ And proposing again. ‘We danced for all of thirty seconds before I was ill.’
‘But he danced, Charity!’ Faith grabbed her by the shoulders. ‘That is momentous! And I’m sure I saw him at the theatre in the spring, sat all the way up in the gods but Piers said I was imagining it.’ Her gaze locked with Hope’s suspiciously as her brows furrowed. ‘Because why would a man with all of Griff’s money sit in the cheap seats? But now I am thinking that perhaps I did see him. He is rather striking and difficult to miss.’
They were clutching at straws now. ‘Griff loathes the opera.’
Hope nodded. ‘Luke thought he saw him in the gods too once just after Figaro opened, but I dismissed it out of hand because Griff always makes such a big show of disliking the opera. Perhaps too much of a show now that I think upon it, because he never used to mind it when it was just Mama who performed...and it is certainly a strange coincidence that there have been two suspected sightings and both long before you seduced him into that rampant night of unbridled passion.’
‘Will you stop saying that!’ Each mention reminded Charity of just how unbridled it had been. How unbridled she had been. ‘Mama might hear!’
But Hope was on a roll and wouldn’t be silenced on the subject. ‘And it makes no sense that a man who doesn’t like you, who finds you superficial, spoiled and self-absorbed, and a man who is as sensible, measured, logical and guarded as Griff undoubtedly is, would be so readily seduced. He would have put an immediate stop to things before they got out of hand.’
‘Unless he wanted to be seduced.’ Faith wiggled her tawny eyebrows. ‘And years of pent-up lust and longing all exploded in one go and all his sensible logic and guardedness went to hell in a handcart. That is rather romantic too...’ She sighed again as she clutched her heart. ‘There is no better sight than a man all undone. All fervent and desperate and only you will do.’ Then she grinned wickedly. ‘There has always been a frisson between the pair of you. Even as children you and he had a different relationship from the rest of us. You always gravitated towards one another and it seemed to affect everything, didn’t it, Hope?’
‘It did indeed and frisson is the perfect word for it. Their relationship was always different from ours. Exclusively so. They went out of their way to make mischief for one another. Why did we never notice it before?’
Charity stared at the ceiling, praying for strength, not wanting to be seduced into the tempting fantasy they were weaving. ‘It was different because it was fraught, and it was fraught because I drive him mad, Faith. I’ve always driven him mad.’
‘With lust,’ said Faith winking. ‘And possessiveness.’
‘He was certainly in a hurry to interrupt that waltz.’ Hope spoke directly to Faith as if Charity wasn’t there this time. ‘We were in the midst of an important conversation and he sprinted away from me that night as if his breeches were on fire the second I asked him to talk some sense into our headstrong baby sister.’
Even though she wanted to believe it, Charity couldn’t. Not when she’d seen the truth in Griff’s eyes and heard the disappointment and disgust in his voice. ‘You are both romanticising a situation which isn’t the least bit romantic and reading something into nothing to make a depressing situation sound more palatable.’
Hope shared another knowing look with Faith. ‘Or perhaps we are finally reading it all correctly for the first time and there actually is more than a grain of attraction and love in i
t all somewhere? Perhaps he has romantic feelings for you, too?’
‘This is ridiculous! Neither of us has feelings! Romantic or otherwise.’
They shot her twin disbelieving looks.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. There has always been that palpable, charged atmosphere between them...’ Clearly Faith had made up her mind. ‘Which was bound to develop into more. Strong emotions like that cannot be denied for ever. Especially if they have been bubbling under the surface for almost two decades.’
‘This is going from the sublime to the ridiculous.’ Charity hauled herself off the mattress and stalked to the door. ‘And your silly theories are now most definitely bordering on the ridiculous.
‘You can deny it all that you want but it doesn’t detract from the single most damning truth of all.’ Hope folded her arms smugly.
‘Which is?’ Charity tried to hide her rising panic behind a mask of imperious and bored bravado not at all liking where this conversation was going but powerless to stop it—or to staunchly deny it.
‘That despite undoubtedly kissing significantly more men than a proper young lady should, you, baby Sister, still chose to save the rest of yourself for Griff.’
Chapter Nineteen
Griff didn’t particularly want to be in White’s this close to midnight because he preferred to be home when Charity returned from the theatre. Somebody needed to check she hadn’t overexerted herself and encourage her to eat something before she went to bed and she was too strong a character to listen to anyone else. But, as his two new brothers-in-law had suddenly invited him to dine with them here, and embrace him back into part of the family fold, he felt he had no choice. Instead, he had intended to beat a hasty retreat after the dessert was done. But that had been ages and far too many drinks ago.
‘More champagne, I think,’ said Luke as he grabbed the passing waiter.
Griff shook his woolly head. ‘No more for me.’ Thanks to pre-dinner champagne to toast his new nephew, the wine over dinner and the after-dinner port, then the brandy, he was starting to see double. Or perhaps treble. There was certainly a fuzzy, nondescript replica of Luke now poking out from the edges of the original.
‘Nonsense, my good fellow!’ Luke’s large hand slapped him on the back. ‘We still have your nuptials to celebrate.’ The celebrate came out slurred. ‘Surely that deserves a toast?’
‘We all know that there’s nothing to celebrate there. We had to get married, remember?’
‘But still...’ His enormous bearded brother-in-law winked as he slapped him on the back again. ‘You got yourself a beautiful bride that most of London would envy you for.’
‘You have to give credit to Roberta and Augustus.’ Piers held up one of the bubbling crystal flutes which seemed to have magically appeared on the table. ‘Between them, they made some mighty fine daughters.’ He grinned soppily. ‘Obviously I snagged myself the most beautiful one but the other two aren’t bad either so you both did well.’
‘You’re clearly blind as well as a blithering idiot,’ said a slurring Luke clinking his glass to the other. ‘Because my Hope outshines all of the Brookes girls by a country mile. She’s prettier, cleverer and far and away the most talented.’
‘Have you forgotten the way Faith paints?’ Piers jabbed the air instead of Luke’s shoulder. ‘Now that’s a talent. I’ll have you know there’s a two-year waiting list for one of her portraits.’
‘But can she write a book?’ Luke pressed the remaining flute into Griff’s hand. ‘Weave intricate plots and complicated, layered characters seamlessly? Of course, she can’t. That takes real talent. Hope has bigger brains and better beauty. What say you, Griff? Seeing as we two are at loggerheads, you must have the casting vote. Who is the prettiest sister?’
‘Charity.’ Even three sheets to the wind, it was no contest as far as he was concerned. He drew a wonky spiral in the air with his finger. ‘She has all those golden curls and those deep blue eyes and she shings...’ He huffed out a sigh as he readjusted his tongue to cope with the difficult word. ‘She sings like an angel. Much better than her mother can. And she’s funny and charming and maddening...’ He took a long glug of his champagne then subtly burped out some bubbles. ‘And good hearted.’
Luke jabbed Piers with his elbow. ‘I told you he loved her.’
‘What good does that do me when she doesn’t love me back?’ A conundrum Griff had pondered long and hard this past week. ‘She only married me because she had to...’ He waved his glass around to punctuate that point. ‘And she shtuck with me, the poor thing, when she could have had anyone and she’s going to regret marrying me for the rest of her life and I just don’t know how to fix that.’
More wine was sloshed in his glass and over the tablecloth by Piers. ‘But she married you, old chap, so that has to count for something. A bird in the hand is worth...is it two or three in a tree?’ He frowned trying to remember.
‘It’s defiantly two,’ said Luke with great authority. ‘In an oak. Or it might have been a birch. I’m not much of an arboriculturist.’
Piers frowned and leaned closer, squinting at his friend perplexed. ‘How the blazes can you say arboriculturist perfectly, a word of six complicated syllables, when you can no longer pronounce celebrate which has only three?’
Luke shrugged, his expression confused. ‘I have no idea...but I can.’
Piers toasted him impressed then thumped Griff on the arm. ‘Well, there you have it. Two birds are in your tree, Griff, so half the battle is already won. All you need to do now is get her to fall in love with you and everything in your garden will be rosy.’
A conclusion he had come to himself days ago without anybody’s help. ‘And how do you suggest I do that?’ Because that was the crux of the problem. ‘How do I get a woman like Charity to fall in love with a man like me?’ Griff thumped his chest so hard he winded himself. ‘When I am a dull scholar and she is a sparkling performer? I like diagrams and she likes arias. I quietly sulk while she throws loud tantrums. We have absolutely nothing in common at all.’
‘Opposites attract.’ Piers squinted at him now. ‘Just look at me and Faith. She stands out and I blend into the panelling.’
‘Then if that is the case, why do birds of a feather flock together?’ Griff took another glug of his wine and shook his head. ‘Not that it matters in our case anyway because she loves that bejewelled fob Denby. He is the one she wants.’
‘Yet it was you whom she took to her bed.’ Luke raised his eyebrows. ‘Hope said that you were her first. That has to count for something.’
‘Perhaps it might have if the basic premise wasn’t all wrong to begin with.’
‘What basic premise?’ Luke poured the last dregs into Griff’s glass.
‘For Charity and me it’s not just back to front—but wonky too.’
His companions stared at him befuddled until Piers shook his head. ‘You lost me at basic premise, old boy.’
Griff grabbed the waiter himself and demanded some paper and a pencil, then when it arrived began to explain it in the only way he knew how.
With a diagram.
‘In the normal course of things, a workable marriage requires a specific set of processes to get it started—that forms the basic premise.’ He drew six misshapen boxes and connected them with wobbly arrows. ‘You find a girl you fancy, then you woo her with a courtship.’ He tapped the third box pointedly with the pencil because that was the most important missing component in the puzzle. ‘Both parties fall in love with each other rather than someone else. Then the chap proposes, they get engaged and finally, with much dizzying anticipation, they get married.’
Both men nodded their understanding as they huddled over the drawing, so Griff waggled his hand off into the distance as he scribbled another long arrow to run off the end of the page. ‘All the other stuff like nights of passion and babies is supposed to come afte
rwards. But Charity and I did it backwards. We did the passion bit and made the baby first, then got married and missed all the rest of the steps. The fundamental steps which guarantee success.’
‘Then simply reverse all those fundamental steps,’ announced Piers as if he had just invented the wheel, ‘and you’ll inevitably end up with the same basic premise.’
‘But you don’t.’ With great care, he drew the six boxes again the other way around and frowned when they inexplicably turned out messier than the first set. ‘If the wedding happens without the dizzying anticipation of the engagement and there has been no wooing or courtship, then there cannot be any love either.’ He tapped the all-important fourth box this time then drew a lopsided heart around it. ‘Ergo, the basic premise is fatally flawed because there are vital processes missing and without those essential fundamentals we are doomed for it all to remain unfixable for ever.’
‘But hang on a minute...’ Luke slapped his hand away to point at the heart himself. ‘Not all the processes are missing. We can also tick off finding a girl you fancy because you clearly did that. And there is love as well because you love her! You said so.’
Griff shook his head. ‘I did and I do—but it is irrelevant in this premise because that didn’t happen on this diagram. That happened ages ago.’ He drew a wiggly line backwards from the first box and off the paper. ‘I cannot pinpoint exactly when I fell in love with the minx because it crept up on me long before I was aware of it—but it was probably back when we were children when I didn’t have the good sense to understand it or avoid it. Not that it makes any difference anyway, because she doesn’t love me in return, she loves him, and I’m damned if I know how to make her swap allegiances.’
‘Yes, you do!’ Piers whacked the diagram with such force two of the now empty champagne flutes toppled over. ‘It is right here in black and white!’ His index finger tapped box five. ‘Wooing is the answer. It’s the only missing box.’
‘He’s right.’ Luke slapped the table too, earning him several glares and a few audible tut-tuts from the other diners. ‘You are just going to have to court your wife until she forgets her fop and loves you back.’
How Not to Chaperon a Lady--A sexy, funny Regency romance Page 18