Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (30 page)

“The lady is three and twenty, Your Lordship,” Carter cautioned from behind him. “Mrs. Warren has lived on her own in London for some two years. She has been without a husband for four years and a father for two. She is a woman accustomed to seeing to her own decisions.”

The earl’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I hired a man to travel to Brussels to locate her, but he could discover no information on my niece beyond the day before Waterloo. I was led to believe she had likely perished in the aftermath of the battle or perhaps Lucinda had known her own form of Bedlam after so many losses in a short span of time.”

With sympathy, Carter replied, “Mrs. Warren has suffered greatly, but I can attest to the fact she is not lacking in her mind.”
Nor in her body
, Carter thought, but he kept that particular fact from his argument. “She is one of the most intelligent women of my acquaintance.”

The bite in Charleton’s reply remained when he said, “I suspect you had better tell me what has occurred, which has brought my niece dangerously close to ruination. I expect to know it all, Sir Carter, or Mr. Pennington, as well as Baron Blakehell, will know my wrath. If Lucinda’s actions mirror her mother’s as closely as does her appearance, my niece will not reappear this evening. Her mother, Sophia, possessed the most annoyingly inflexible nature. She was a
magnificent woman.” A heavy sigh slipped from the earl’s lips, and Carter wondered what Rightnour did not say of his sister in marriage. “Poor, Roderick. He never understood Sophia’s need for independence and passion and adventure. My younger brother was our father reincarnated. I suspect a battle of wills often occurred in Roderick’s household.”

Carter again gestured toward the chairs. “I will ask Mr. Bradleton to send a tray to Mrs. Warren and to deliver our meal. We do have much of which to speak, Your Lordship. What I know of Mrs. Warren would agree with your earlier assumption, but I have also observed how someone in the lady’s past has done his best to break her spirit.”

Lucinda had rushed to the room Mr. Bradleton had indicated. Slamming and locking the door, she had thrown herself upon the bed to cry away another round of disappointments. Her dream had become her nightmare. Sir Carter had promised her uncle he would offer for her. The thought of calling the baronet “Husband” had led her prayers of late, along with a prayer for acceptance by the Earl of Charleton, in order to make her worthy of Sir Carter’s regard; however, what had happened below had blurred her hopes into a murky bog. “Be wary for what you pray,” she chastised on a hard sob. “God will laugh at a person’s most decadent prayers and give them a twist of reality.”

In truth, she held no laudable traits to make Sir Carter wish to know her beyond his duty to the Duke of Thornhill or beyond his lust. Lucinda knew he wanted her the way a man wants any willing female, but the baronet did not love her. No one had ever loved her in that singular manner. Never loved her enough to forgive her shortcomings. Never loved her the way Thornhill loved his beautifully impetuous duchess. The way Lord Worthing looked upon Lady Eleanor. The baronet felt compelled to “save” her, but Lucinda could not permit him to make the ultimate sacrifice.

“Carter,” she whispered as she rolled to her back to catch up a pillow to hug. “I would love you unconditionally.” Another round of tears burned Lucinda’s eyes. It was a painful certainty: She would never know the splendor of real love.

Charleton leaned heavily into the chair. “My God!” he expelled in incredulity. “What have they done to my darling child? If I could find Roderick’s grave, I would disinter my brother to beat him into the ground once more. He stood by and permitted Captain Warren to defame Sophia’s daughter.” Carter noted how the earl never spoke kindly of his younger brother; perhaps Mrs. Warren had the right of the feud, after all. Yet, however Charleton felt about Roderick Rightnour, the earl spoke fondly of the colonel’s wife and child. Based on his interpretation, Carter thought hope existed for Charleton and Lucinda to forge a relationship.

“Much of what I have shared,” Carter cautioned, “is based on speculation. Mrs. Warren has shared only bits of her life as the captain’s wife, and the Duke of Thornhill has included his observations. Yet, none of what I suspect has been confirmed by the lady.”

“I understand your hesitation, Sir Carter.” The earl presented him a penetrating look. “At least, I understand your hesitation as to making assumptions of my niece’s anguish. However, I pray you are not dithering with her emotions. Have you abandoned your thoughts of claiming Lucinda or was your earlier declaration only a ploy to stall my anger?”

Carter swallowed a scoff of dissatisfaction. “You heard the lady’s response. I do not believe either you or I could press her into doing something not of her own invention.” Carter’s heart knew the vexation of Mrs. Warren’s adamant denial. He had thought he might be compelled to kiss her into agreement; in fact, he had hoped for the pleasure of the lady’s mouth. However, her protest had stung his pride. Carter knew he could not win Mrs. Warren’s heart if he did not set her free to choose him.

Carter knew instinctively this evening could change his future. “If you wish me to claim your niece, then you must permit me to do so in my own manner. First, we must resolve the issue of the child and the reality of Mrs. Warren’s marriage, and then I can pursue a relationship with your niece.”

Charleton scowled in displeasure. “Do so if you truly wish it. I rescind my threat to make mischief with Mr. Pennington. I do not want Lucinda injured further because I am a stubborn old man.”

Carter breathed easier. The earl would not force them into a stilted marriage. “I will assure you, my Lord, your niece has earned my fervent loyalty.”

The earl made to rise. “It is best I do not call on Lucinda this evening. It would not do for the Earl of Charleton to be seen entering Miss Patrick’s
quarters, but her brother could see to the lady’s comfort. Tell my niece I am most anxious to have her under my roof at Charles Place–to know the opportunity to prove it was never my idea to abandon her. If she wishes to bring the boy to Lancashire, I will welcome them both with open arms.” Carter noted the tremble in the earl’s words. Mrs. Warren’s abject refusal to know her uncle brought the earl great pain. “You will send me regular updates of your successes and failures on my niece’s behalf, Sir Carter. If you require additional resources, a nod in my direction will bring you a full company to command. I will move Heaven and Hell to right the wrongs done to Sophia’s daughter.”

“I am your family’s servant, my Lord. I promise to protect Mrs. Warren’s life and her heart.”

“See you do, young man. Said company of men can be used to punish a wastrel as easily as it can be commanded to fight for the rights of my niece and the child.”

It was late when Carter knocked upon her door, and although it was several minutes before she released the lock, he held no doubt she was awake. Her red, blotchy eyes told the tale, and so Carter simply stepped into the room and opened his arms. Immediately, she sought his comfort, and Carter found he had longed for her warmth along his body. He strongly suspected she was everything he required in his life. “I apologize,” he whispered in her ear. “When Mr. Bradelton announced the earl’s arrival, I could not refuse his joining us.”

She nodded weakly as she stifled her sobs. “Of…of course.” Her voice sounded hoarse as if she had not spoken for hours.

Carter’s hands stroked her back as he murmured endearments. “I cannot stand by and watch you injured by the world. You must know I meant only to protect you.”

Mrs. Warren stiffened in wary disbelief and pushed against his shoulder. Reluctantly, Carter released her. Turning her back on him, she asked, “Then the earl accepted…my refusal.”

He could not tell from her tone whether the lady celebrated his announcement or regretted it. Either way, he scowled. “For now,” he said noncommittally. “Charleton has no desire to bring more disdain to your door. The earl
agreed we should continue the investigation, although Charleton insisted we practice propriety. As a widow, you would be given a pass by Society for some choices, but not for others.”

Mrs. Warren kept her eyes downcast, but she managed a clear tone. With a stilted laugh, she said, “I am relieved, Sir Carter, you were able to reason with my uncle.”

Carter caught her arm. “I have delayed Charleton’s edict,” he hissed, “but I would prefer your reaction was less triumphant. I am considered by many to be an eligible prospect.”

When he had knocked upon her door, Lucinda had thought to bury her head further into the pillow. To smother her last breath and to make the humiliation and the pain disappear forever.
How many times
, she had wondered, was she to pretend the world had not ripped out her heart and stomped upon it soundly.

However, when the baronet had caught her in his embrace, Lucinda had succumbed to the security she always associated with the man, and for a moment, her dream flickered to life; but then he said, “You must know I meant only to protect you.”

Protect
! Her brain had screamed the word. Lucinda did not want his protection so she did the only thing she could: She had pronounced herself satisfied to be free of the baronet’s obligation to her.

A beat passed as his eyes narrowed upon her lips, and Lucinda felt Carter Lowery’s heat seeping into her bones. “Permit me to remind you, Sir Carter.” Her lips were suddenly very dry, and she wet them with her tongue. The gesture enflamed the intensity of his stare, and Lucinda’s mind stumbled to a halt.

“Remind me of what?” he said on a rasp.

Lucinda shuddered as she sucked in a deep, unsteady breath. “I would never celebrate any man offering for a woman he does not affect,” she said brazenly. “It would not be conducive to a happy marriage.”

The baronet scowled. “I thought you an intelligent woman, Mrs. Warren,” he declared with a tightening of his grip. “Yet, you require multiple reminders of your own.”

“Such as?” she challenged.

“This.” His mouth came down hard upon hers. It was crazy, but he tasted delectable. A touch of wine and perhaps a bit of cinnamon. Warm and firm lips. A kiss that spoke of power and self-confidence. A kiss which spoke of all which lay between them. He leaned closer, the heat of his body and his manly scent implanted upon her, wrapping about her. With a groan of satisfaction, Lucinda leaned into him, her arms encircling his neck. Her mind screamed she should beware of permitting her heart to know this man, but her body fought for her complete acquiescence. His mouth claimed her as his. Carter Lowery would always be the man by which she measured every other male acquaintance.