The Thoroughly Compromised Bride (8 page)

“Charles! If you really thought my aunt and your sister capable of such deviousness, you are as bad as you would have me believe them to be. Worse! For, believing it, you still went along with it! Oh!—and you even brought a change of clothes! How could you?”

“No, no! Don’t be so quick to rip up at me! I only
suspected
it to be an underhanded plot. That being so, it was incumbent upon me to proceed with it, in case Melanie should actually be eloping. As for the change of clothes, who can say what may happen along the road? We might have lost a wheel, or one of the horses might have gone lame. Oh, any number of things might have gone awry. And I did mention, did I not, that I like to be prepared.”

She cast a suspicious look at him, but offered no further arguments, and they continued sipping their wine and gazing into the fire. She had lost track of time when Charles looked at his watch.

“I think, my dear, that we should repair to our bedchambers to refresh ourselves. I thought, too, that perhaps it would be wise to have an early dinner and retire early to bed. It has been a long and exhausting day.”

She agreed and started towards the door, but just as she reached it he touched her arm to detain her.

“One moment, please. You will remember, I hope, that I have told the landlord that you are my sister?”

“That was clever of you. Yes, I’ll remember.”

They climbed the stairs together, going to their separate bedchambers, and after splashing cold water on her face, Elizabeth felt a great deal refreshed. That done, she opened her reticule to find her comb and froze, staring bemusedly, for there in full view was her tooth powder. Only Aunt Emily could have put it there, and the knowledge came instantly that Charles’s theory had, indeed, been correct.

Those damnably wretched women! How could they have played such a despicable trick? It was certain that they had hoped to force her and Charles into marriage, and for a moment Elizabeth considered what it might be like to spend a lifetime with him. She was a little shocked to realize that the notion was far from unpleasant and even more shocked to realize the reason for that. How long had she been in love with him?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Feeling suddenly as though her legs would no longer hold her up, Elizabeth sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed.

For several moments, her mind was blank, her brain seemingly paralyzed by the stunning effect of her momentous discovery, and when it began to function again, one refrain ran through it repeatedly.
She loved him.
She loved Charles, loved him with all her heart and soul, and would give all she possessed if only she could be his wife. For a short while she was filled with a sense of wonder and joy.

But what was she thinking of? She could not marry Charles without first telling him of her own less-than-virtuous state, and how could she tell him when he had proven to be such a high stickler—a veritable prig, according to his sister—when it came to marriage and ladies of quality. Besides, she did not wish to give up her prized freedom and independence, did she? No! Of course not, she told herself firmly. But then, why was she feeling this ridiculous urge to weep?

In order to hold such traitorous feelings at bay, she reminded herself that Charles had no desire to marry, and furthermore, he had, only a short time earlier, implicitly recalled to her the fact that no man would wish to take her to wife. She felt a reviving surge of anger at that injustice, but it was soon followed by another wave of sadness. If only Charles...

She shook her head in self-disgust. It was madness for her to be entertaining these thoughts. She would be much better occupied in attempting to find a way out of this muddle. Thank heaven, Charles had had the great good sense to say that she was his sister. They would come about somehow.

Suddenly aware of the passage of time, she quickly ran the comb through her curls, arranging them in a simple style, and not knowing whether to feel relieved or regretful, she descended to the parlour where Charles awaited her.

The dinner presently served them proved to be passably good, but was consumed with less appreciation than it might conceivably have received had their minds not been otherwise engaged.

It was not until they were once again ensconced before the fire that Charles, lazily regarding the flames through his brandy glass, said casually, “I wonder, my dear, if you fully realize all the implications of our predicament.”

“By all means! I am not stupid! I’m well aware that it will require the greatest care if we are to avoid a scandal. At the least, there may be some speculation, I suppose, but I shan’t regard that.” She smiled brightly to show him how little she regarded it.

“My foolish, naive girl. There is only one thing to be done. You must marry me.”

For several moments, Elizabeth simply looked at Charles, surprised that he sounded so composed, so undisturbed. Then, as she realized that he was waiting for her answer, she insisted, “Oh, no! What nonsense! That isn’t at all necessary. I shall say that I have been visiting friends overnight.”

He frowned. “Now
that
is nonsense! I fear it will be an impossibility to keep the truth hidden. Too many people are aware of it: your aunt, my sister, Wiggons—and if he knows, very likely all the servants do. Furthermore, there is no saying who may have seen us drive out of town together.” He reached for her hand, saying more gently, “Surely you must see that there is no other way. You
must
marry me.”

“No! I am persuaded that it is not necessary!” she cried.

He had remained fairly calm up to this point, but impatience was now evident in the way he ran his hand through his hair and sounded clearly in his voice as he said, “If you do not regard the damage to your own reputation, then you might consider
my
feelings in the matter. For I’ll tell you, in no uncertain terms, my girl, that I don’t intend to have it said of me that I compromised you and did not marry you!”

Her chin lifted stubbornly. “I suppose I should feel honoured that you are willing to make such a great sacrifice on my behalf, but I cannot allow it. I shall no doubt survive any damage to my reputation, and I should think that your reputation as a rake could only be enhanced.”

“You are being foolish beyond belief!” he returned irritably. “I had no idea that you would find the thought of marriage to me so repugnant!”

“Oh, no! I do not!” she cried, unwilling to allow him to believe that it was him she rejected. “It is the thought of marriage itself that I find repugnant.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I find such a statement from any female astounding! Unless— No, never mind.”

It had occurred to him that she was speaking of the physical intimacy implied by marriage and that it was this which she found distasteful. Good God! He would never have thought it of her. She had so much liveliness and warmth in her character that it was difficult to credit that she might be cold in that respect.

His frowning gaze was beginning to make Elizabeth uncomfortable, and finally she said, “Well, I am glad that you have decided to be sensible about this. I shall think of another way.”

“Don’t be idiotic!” was his terse rejoinder. “I have not changed my mind, and if your chin gets any higher, you are going to put a permanent crick in your neck!”

“Oh!” she breathed, glaring at him. “Well, neither have I changed my mind!”

They sat there exchanging glares until, unexpectedly, Charles began to laugh. Though at first she was incensed that he could find their argument amusing, it was not long until a smile began to tug at her own mouth.

At last, Charles, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, said, “I believe we are having our first fight, my love,” and as she opened her mouth to answer, he stopped her with “No, no! Let us cry quit for tonight. I’ve no wish to come to cuffs with you. We are both tired and will do better to postpone this discussion until tomorrow.”

Elizabeth had to agree with him. “Very well. Until tomorrow, then. And if you do not mind, I think that I shall retire now.”

“Certainly, my dear,” he answered, and walked her to the door, where he placed both hands on her shoulders and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

She murmured a hasty “Good night” and hurried from the room before he could see the devastating effect that innocent kiss had had upon her. Charles stood there for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face before going up to his own chamber.

Soon after meeting Elizabeth, he had admitted to himself that the very first sight of her had tipped him a leveller, and that had never happened to him before. But he had convinced himself that he could enjoy a brief flirtation with her, and then go on his way with neither of them the worse for it. It was not long before he knew that he was deceiving himself.

To become serious over any female, no matter how entrancing she might be, had never been part of his plan for the future, and when he began to suspect just how deeply he was coming to care for Elizabeth, his instinct had been to hare off to Brent-wood, putting as much distance between them as possible. However, it was not his way to run from anything or anyone. And so he had stayed, and had become more besotted with her each day, which had forced him to re-examine his disinclination to become leg-shackled. Was it possible that his aversion had become nothing more than habit?

He knew that his chief motive for shunning marriage had always been the fact that he had never found a female who did not bore or disgust him within a very short time of meeting her. In his considerable experience, chaste females tended to fall into one of two categories. They were either insufferably insipid, brainless chits, or they were stiff-necked pattern cards of propriety. Even more intolerable were those less-than-chaste females who masqueraded as ladies of quality. At least the lightskirts of his acquaintance had the virtue of honesty—with regard to whom and what they were—to recommend them.

However, far from boring or disgusting him—and he could not imagine her ever doing so—Elizabeth attracted him in every way. In truth, she suited him very well. She was well-born and undoubtedly virtuous; a complete lady, in fact. She was also intelligent, witty and had a marvellous sense of humour. And if that weren’t enough, she was an utter delight to look upon.

Having got so far in his deliberations, he then admitted that perhaps his sister was not so very wrong. Perhaps it
was
time that he married and set up his nursery. He was, after all, the last living male of his line. It might not be a bad thing to produce an heir to carry on the family name.

Yes, he thought, as he climbed into bed, for several days past he had been toying with the notion of offering for Elizabeth. His only problem had been in deciding how to overcome her peculiar resistance to the married state, and Margaret had provided the means of doing so. He did not expect too much opposition from Elizabeth, in spite of her behaviour this evening. And as for her fear of the physical aspects of marriage, it was doubtlessly no more than any innocent female might be expected to feel. It needed only patience and sensitivity on his part to allay it.

He smiled contentedly as his eyes drifted closed.
His son,
he mused, and the thought gave him unexpected pleasure.
His and Elizabeth’s son...

That thought gave him even more pleasure.

CHAPTER NINE

It was long before Elizabeth was able to fall asleep that night, so many thoughts and questions were swirling through her brain.

How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with Charles and not have been aware of it? Now, of course, it was glaringly clear to her that there had been any number of clues which should have warned her. She supposed that deep down in her innermost self she
had
known, but to have admitted it to herself would have meant having to stop seeing him, and
that
she had been unwilling to do. And so she had deceived herself, never foreseeing where it might land her.

She ought to have seen through the machinations of those two conniving women—and had she had the wits of a two-year-old, she would have. Charles obviously had. And what, in the name of all that was holy, was he about? Since he had made no secret of his distaste for marriage, it was inconceivable that he should wish for it now. She unhesitatingly declined to believe that he could have fallen in love with her. No, it was as he had said: his concern for Melanie had prompted him to take part in this charade, and his notion of proper conduct now prompted him to offer for her.

She thought of his reaction when she had rejected his offer and wondered at it. She would have thought that he would leap at the opportunity to be let off the hook, but perhaps it was simply that the alternative she had suggested did not satisfy his sense of propriety. She still believed that to say she had spent the night with a friend would answer quite nicely, but if it did not suit him, she must come up with something better. But what?

After considerable reflection, she still had not found an answer and finally, exhausted, she gave up the attempt. Something was bound to occur to her tomorrow when she was more rested. Of course, if Charles persisted in his unnecessary notion of gallantry, she would be obliged to tell him the truth about herself. That truth, however, would only be used as a last resort. She did not think that she could bear it to have Charles consider her what he had called “another man’s leavings.”

On that unhappy thought, she finally fell into a restless sleep and did not awaken until ten o’clock the following morning when the landlady came into her room bearing hot water to wash with and coals for the fire.

A good-natured, amply endowed woman, neatly dressed and with a crisp, white cap tied under her chin, the innkeeper’s wife kept up a running commentary as she busied herself about the room.

“Happen we have another lady and gentleman staying with us, or I would have sent you our Alice— she being our maid, you see. But I bethought myself that you, miss, and your gentleman brother, being quality, like, it was more fitting that I should be waiting upon you myself—and happy I am to be doing it! Not but what they don’t be quality themselves, but there be quality and there be
quality,
I always say,” said she, as she pulled back the curtains. “Lor’ bless us, miss, just look at that! You’ll not be going anywhere today. It’s still snowing something fierce out there.”