An Unusual Bequest (21 page)

‘Oh, God, I am sorry,’ he said, huskily. ‘Please forgive me.’

She had nothing to forgive. She could have pushed him away, could have left him and gone back into the bright lights of the ballroom; he had not held her by force. He had been gentle and she wished, oh, how she wished, that it had meant as much to him as it had to her. She could not bring herself to say she was as much to blame as he was, nor could she say she forgave him. She did not need to forgive the man she loved for kissing her, not when her whole body had been longing for it, longing for more than just kisses; she was quivering with suppressed desire. It was many years since she had experienced the physical loving of a man, but only since she had met Stacey Darton had she felt the loss so keenly. If they had been anywhere but in a public place, she would have been lost to all reason and allowed even greater liberties. And that was not his fault.

‘Charlotte?’ he ventured, when she did not answer.

She swallowed hard to rid herself of the great lump in her throat before she could find her voice and then it came out as a sharp retort. ‘Sir, I did not give you permission to address me by my given name.’ Why was she so angry? Why was she snapping at him? Her anger was directed against herself for being such a fool. She should have known that flirting was a dangerous pastime and where it could lead.

‘Then, my lady, I beg your pardon,’ he said stiffly and could have wept.

‘I do believe the dance has finished,’ she said, as people began streaming into the corridor to go to the supper room. If they noticed the couple standing in the shadow of the alcove, they gave no indication of it.

‘Yes, shall we go into supper?’ What more could he say? She would not listen and he had lost an opportunity, which just proved his timing was abysmal.

They followed the crowd and he found her a seat and went off to fetch two plates of food, without speaking another word. A waiter came with a tray of glasses filled with a pale wine and he took two of these and set them on the table.

‘Thank you,’ she said. She could not swallow the food, but she drank the wine and he took her glass to be refilled.

He watched her as she drank it far too quickly and his heart ached for her, for the mess he had made of everything, for wanting her. He did not speak, afraid that whatever he said would exacerbate the situation. When supper was over, he offered her his arm to return to the ballroom. The dancing continued, but this time he did not attempt to fight off those who wanted to stand up with her, but stood leaning against a pillar, watching her as she danced, eyes bright, lips smiling, making light remarks in answer to her partner’s comments and never once making a wrong move, even though he knew she was ever so slightly foxed.

The last dance was a waltz and he was determined to try to mend fences, if only so that they could go back to being to each other what they had before, though he had no idea exactly what that was. Schoolteacher and father of one of her pupils, he supposed, gambler who had been instrumental in salvaging her jewels, protector perhaps. Nothing more. He walked forward as her last partner relinquished her and bowed before her. ‘May I have the honour of this dance?’ he asked formally and humbly, offering her his hand.

She took it and smiled, the same bright smile with which she had been favouring her other partners, a smile of bravado. Nothing seemed quite real. The people about them were hazy, his face, his dear face was unclear, the expression in his dark eyes unfathomable. It was as if the whole evening had been a dream—from the moment she stripped off her black silk and dressed in the filmy ball gown, she had become someone else, not Charlotte Hobart, respectable widow and mother, though she was very unsure of the woman who had taken her place, a flirt, a wanton. Was that what he wanted? There was no Parson’s End and Easterley Manor, no school, no children, no past, no future, there was only a woman in love and a man who tormented.

They danced in perfect unison, her right hand in his left, his right arm at her back, she could feel its warmth and longed to feel closer than the permitted twelve inches, which, she told herself severely, would prove nothing except that she had abandoned all sense of decorum and he was a rake. Neither spoke until the dance ended and he bowed low while she curtsied. ‘Thank you, my lady,’ he said, offering his hand to raise her.

She smiled wanly and went to the ladies’ retiring room to fetch her cloak before joining him in the general exodus towards the door. Jem was waiting with the carriage, one of a long line stretching the length of the street. He jumped down to open the door and let down the step for them to enter, which they did in silence, making him look sideways at his master, but he was met with a frown and not his usual smile.

‘My lady,’ Stacey began when they had negotiated the traffic and were on their way to the hotel. ‘I have apologised. Am I not to be forgiven?’

‘You are forgiven. We will put it down to the heat of the moment and say no more about it.’

He wanted to say a great deal more about it, wanted to explain, tell her that he had kissed her because he loved her, but he was sure such a declaration would not be welcome. But he could not stand her silent reproach. Anyone would think he had tried to rape her! ‘Could you not sound just a little as though you meant it?’ he asked. ‘After all, you are not a green girl, you have been kissed before.
I
have kissed you before—’ He stopped and began again. ‘Until all this is over, we have to deal with each other and it would be better done in a spirit of friendship.’

‘All over?’ she asked. ‘You mean our journey home?’

‘Not that, not just that. I meant everything. The free-traders, my problems with Julia, the school, Lord Hobart…’

‘Oh, that game of chance. I had hoped, for one evening, you might have managed to forget it.’

‘I did,’ he protested. ‘Not once has it crossed my mind since we left Parson’s End. I have had my mind on other things.’

‘So I collect.’

‘If you have forgiven me, why are you still so up in the boughs?’

‘I am not up in the boughs, I am sitting here beside you, perfectly calm.’

He gave a grunt of amusement. Calm she certainly was not. He could feel the tension in her, though they were not touching each other; it was in the air around her, palpable, threatening.

‘I see you find me amusing.’

‘Vastly,’ he said, unable to resist it.

She turned away and looked out of the carriage window, though there was nothing to see but empty, ill-lit streets. How could the evening have gone so wrong? What had she hoped for? What had she expected? He was a man, wasn’t he? A virile, lustful man and she should have known better than encourage him if she did not welcome his advances. But she had, she had welcomed them with open arms. Why not admit it? She gave a sudden cracked laugh. ‘Your daughter will have no need to rid you of me, you have managed to do that all by yourself.’

‘What do you mean by that? What has Julia to do with it?’

‘She told us she has her own way of dealing with ladies who aspire to be your wife. I collect something about horse muck…’

He burst out laughing, making her turn towards him. ‘Oh, my dear, she did me a favour. The woman was a positive antidote, but that does not mean I will allow Julia to dictate whom I may see. You surely are not influenced by what she says.’

‘Whether I am or not is of no significance, since I do not aspire to such giddy heights.’

‘Oh.’ He held his hat in one hand and stroked it, a habit he had when he was agitated. It gave his hands something to do and stopped him from turning her over his knee and spanking some sense into her. Did she imagine her supposed lower status would weigh with him? And if she did, why did she not tell him the truth? Or was he jumping the gun to think she cared for him?

‘And what did you mean by the school being all over?’ she demanded suddenly. ‘Did you imagine it to be a whim, something to pass my time, which I will discard the moment something more interesting comes along?’

‘No, I know it means more to you than that. But I collect the lease is only for a year. You will need somewhere else after that.’

‘And I will find it, do not doubt it.’

‘I am sure you will.’

The carriage was drawing up outside the hotel and he did not wait for Jem to get down, but jumped down on the road side and walked round to open the door himself, letting down the step and holding out his hand to assist her.

She took his hand and stepped down; for a moment they stood face to face in the street, looking at each other in perplexity, neither able to say what was in their hearts. The silence stretched until she could bear it no longer. ‘Good night, my lord,’ she said.

He raised her hand to his lips. ‘Good night, my lady. I will call for you all at eleven in the morning. We must not disappoint our daughters, even if we have managed to disappoint each other.’

She was aware as she walked towards the door of the hotel that he was watching her and she managed to keep her back straight and her head up until she was inside and then her whole body sagged. His last words echoed in her head. Yes, she was disappointed and she supposed so was he; the night that had promised so much had ended in disaster. Aware that the night porter was watching her, she pulled herself together and climbed the stairs. How had it happened? How could such a magical evening have taken so wrong a turn? They had battered each other with words, words loaded with hurt and self-righteousness and she was too tired to go over them now, too tired to work out how to resolve the situation, if it could be resolved. She wanted her bed.

Joan Quinn was waiting in her bedchamber to help her undress, a broad smile on her face. ‘Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?’ she asked, taking Charlotte’s cloak and urging her to a seat so that she could remove her shoes.

‘Yes, thank you, Quinny, it was a lovely evening.’ So it had been until the interval waltz.

‘The girls wanted to stay up and see you home, eager to know all about it, but I told them you would be tired and if they did not go to bed, they would not be fit to go out with his lordship tomorrow.’

‘Bless you, Quinny. I am exhausted.’

‘Did you dance every dance, then?’ She was busy removing Charlotte’s dress as she spoke.

‘Yes, every one.’

‘Oh, I am so glad. The Viscount is such a fine gentleman. I didn’t think so when he first came to the Manor, but he’s not like the others, is he?’

‘No, not at all.’

The rest of her clothes came off and her nightgown was slipped over her head. ‘There, you have a good sleep, my lady. Tomorrow is another day.’

Yes, she thought as she almost fell into bed and Miss Quinn covered her and left her, tomorrow was another day and so was the day after that and the day after that…

Stacey was at the hotel promptly at eleven the following morning dressed in a brown tailcoat and strapped trousers. He was bright and cheerful and no one would have suspected he had had a sleepless night. He greeted Charlotte politely and easily, pretending there was nothing wrong between them, hoping that she had simply been a little out of sorts the evening before and worried that they might be seen and recognised and his behaviour might cause a scandal.

He had behaved badly, there was no doubt of it, succumbing to a temptation that was too inviting to resist. Stuck in Parson’s End, looking after an old man and two little girls, she had been shielded from the more relaxed ways of society and he ought to have realised that and not taken her lack of resistance for acquiescence. Now she was back in her black silk, her hair tucked under a plain black bonnet, looking pale but dignified. He bowed. ‘My lady, good morning. I trust you are well.’

‘Very well, thank you, my lord.’

He turned to look at the three girls, Charlotte’s two were dressed alike in pale blue spotted muslin and Julia in green jaconet. ‘My goodness, what a bevy of beauties,’ he said. ‘I shall be the envy of all.’

They giggled, all except Julia, and he decided he would have to speak to her alone, to try to explain that, no matter what she said or did, he would marry Lady Hobart, though he hoped she would behave herself and love her stepmother because he had no intention of giving her up. How he was going to persuade Charlotte herself of that, he did not yet know.

‘Are you ready?’ he enquired.

‘Oh, yes,’ they chorused.

It was a beautiful day for a stroll and he smiled to himself as he led them down Upper Brook Street towards the docks; he felt like a shepherd with a flock of sheep who were intent on straying and he must watch out that they did not wander off or dart into the road. For a man who professed not to like children, he was behaving very oddly. And all in the name of love!

The workman he had spoken to the day before came forward when he saw him bringing the children up to look at the vessel and doffed his hat. ‘Would the young ladies like to go aboard?’ he asked.

There was a chorus of assent and the man led the way up the gangplank. The children followed eagerly and Stacey turned to take Charlotte’s arm to assist her. They were shown round the whole ship—the captain’s cabin, the crew’s quarters, the galley—and looked aloft at the tall masts with their furled sails, while their guide explained that the ship had been built in the record time of fifteen months and it had taken two thousand loads of Suffolk oak to build her hull.

Having given the man a half-guinea for his trouble, they left to return the hotel thoroughly satisfied with their visit and Stacey’s credit was sky high, which gave him an inordinate sense of achievement. Little girls could be quite charming and he wondered how he could ever have thought otherwise. Even Charlotte was smiling at him again.

They were on the quayside when they met Gerard Topham, who came to a halt in astonishment when he saw the girls. ‘Darton,’ he said in his booming voice. ‘Never took you for a nursemaid.’

Stacey was about to make some rude retort, but thought better of it and grinned instead. He turned to Charlotte, who had been walking beside him but stopped when he did. ‘My lady, may I present my good friend and comrade in arms, Captain Gerard Topham. Captain, Lady Hobart of Parson’s End.’