To Bed or to Wed (8 page)

“Then he is not the man he can be. A man can be strong and assertive without allowing his temper to harm the people around him.
A man can rule his household with love and respect instead of cruelty and hate.” She leaned into his palm ever so slightly. “There is a difference. You have a choice. Exercise it wisely. Become the man you have always dreamed of being.”

When she stood and shook out her gown, Nathan shot to his feet as well. The sudden movement left him lightheaded—or perhaps it was her insight and simple summation of his case that had warmth flooding his
body. Barring that, her presence affected him more than it should, and if that were so, he was in trouble. “May I ask you a question?” He barely forced the inquiry out of a tight throat. It had been a long time indeed since he’d wished to put himself out for a woman’s regard.

“Of course.” She cocked her head, her expression expectant.

“Is it possible to look past a man’s reputation or family history and see him for the man he could be?”

Charlotte grabbed his hand. “I think it’s possible to see him for the man he is. The man he could be is up to him
. All he needs to do is trod the correct path and not let his past history define him.”

A weight of sorts lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in years it felt as if the darkness marring his future would lighten. He didn’t want to analyze why he thought so.
“That, my dear, is the most sensible thing you’ve said this week.” Before he could change his intent, Nathan tugged her into his arms, fit his lips over hers and kissed her.

Unlike the first two they
’d shared, this one was neither rushed nor punishing. He moved his mouth over hers with gentle care, tasting her, teasing her… wooing her. The thought gave him pause. At Charlotte’s whimpered protest, he pushed everything from his mind and resumed the kiss. He nibbled the corners of her mouth then ran his tongue along the soft sweep of her bottom lip. Would she let him deepen their embrace? Kissing her gave him hope that perhaps he shouldn’t keep himself aloof from life, that perhaps there was hope he could have something more than what he’d allotted himself.

Seconds later, Charlotte pulled away. Her lips were as pink as her cheeks, but her smile could light up the darkest bit of forest. “You do well with finesse behind you. It’s an acceptable start.”

Did that mean she’d welcome, or even want, a suit from him despite her unwillingness to wed? And did he want to chance officially courting her? Not knowing what else to do, he offered his arm, and when she laid her hand upon his sleeve, he guided her from their private sanctuary.

“I
’m not always a harsh, grumpy man,” he finally said for the mere fact he wanted to hear her speak again.

“I’m certain you are not—once you forget all the things you try so hard not
to do. Although, I’ve never seen you in a full temper so I don’t have proof.” She patted his arm. “What’s more, you might be quite adept at enjoying life once you concentrate on it. Don’t worry about who you’re trying not to be. Live for who you are now. The rest will work itself out. Change is a constant effort.”

“Perhaps.” Did three kisses
, a near ruination and a tentative truce mean she welcomed an overture, and if she did, did he wish the flirtation take a serious bent? Too many damned doubts and questions. He should have thrown himself on the Marriage Mart long ago for now he was too old for such insecurity.

The moment
they came in sight of the house, Alexandra intercepted them midway on the snow-covered lawn. “There you are, Nathan. I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

“You knew well enough where I was I’ll wager.” He hated that his sister took such an ownership of him
, especially since it was only for her own gain. “You never let me far from your sight.”

“I’ve had a letter from Lady Sophia.” She waved a piece of stationery in the air with a smile on her face. “She wishes to see you upon your return to London.” Alexandra slid a sly gaze to Charlotte. “The lady is most anxious to renew her acquaintance with Nathan as they are nearly at an arrangement, you see.”

“Is that so?” Charlotte pulled away. She glanced into his face. “You are spoken for?” Disappointment rang in her voice. Annoyance sparked in her expressive eyes.

“Nothing has been confirmed.” Devil take it, how to explain without looking like a damned fool?
“Er, I mean to say I haven’t spoken for her. I had no intention—”

“Our families are hoping for an announcement soon,” Alexandra said in a whisper as if she confided a secret.
“They are well-matched. The wedding will be the social event of the Season.”

“Then I apologize for detaining you.” Charlotte dropped into an awkward curtsey. “I thank you both for your hospitality, but if the roads are clear for
immediate travel, I believe I shall leave for London as soon as the arrangements can be made. If I don’t manage to find Jamie before I depart, please convey my regards to him.”

“Charlotte, wait.” When he reached
for her, Alexandra grabbed his hand. “Botheration, woman, let go! I wish to explain. She’ll think the worst of me.” His sister wouldn’t be persuaded though he shook his arm.

“It’s for the best. She is not for you.” She glanced at Charlotte’s retreating form. “After all, what sort of woman doesn’t fight for a man she’s interested in?
Perhaps she was merely trifling with your affections, brother dear. Good thing I came along when I did.”

Nathan had no answer.
“Perhaps.” He had no idea, and now he’d never find out. Despite his earlier hopefulness, he hardened his heart. Women, in general, were a pain in the arse.

Chapter Five

February 2, 1815 London, England

Charlotte flounced into her bedroom just after a footman brought her trunk and valise up from the carriage. Two days ago, when she’d declared her intention of leaving Ravenhurst Manor, a snow squall had blown through as she’d been packing. The unexpected precipitation had delayed her return, but
once the roads became more or less passable, Ravenhurst himself had sent one of his carriages to convey her home, complete with two footmen and a driver who looked more suited to fisticuffs than handling livestock. When she’d inquired of the feasibility of the man as a driver, the marquess had murmured something about the proper defense against road brigands then had walked away.

“Thank you,” she murmured as the footman made his exit. Once she was alone, she gently closed her door and leaned against it with a shuddering sigh. Her mind refused to forget the last time she’d been with Nathan before he callously saw her off. The conversation they’d shared
in nature’s sanctuary had been as sweet as the tender kiss he’d given her. For a few moments, she’d honestly thought he would declare his intention of wanting to court her. He’d had that certain look in his eye—the one she’d seen in other suitors—but he hadn’t said a word regarding such a thing. She’d been on the verge of renouncing her intention to never wed if only to see where an alliance with him would lead.

Then, when his sister had hinted about a possible link with Lady Sophia, her heart had felt as if it had been ripped from her
body by a wild beast. Even now, as she tried to breathe in a normal manner, her chest ached.
I detest being made to play the fool.
Charlotte wandered over to her bed and collapsed upon it. She buried her face in the mound of pillows. The Brussels lace edging on the slips caressed her cheek but only served to remind her of how
his
glove against her skin had felt. A sob attempted to escape her throat, but she stifled it. He hadn’t seemed a rake, didn’t act all that knowledgeable of how to win or woo women. If anything, he’d given off a rather anxious air as if he’d felt uncomfortable in how to proceed with her. The slight reticence had been endearing and made her want to encourage him all the more.

In those fleeting moments, when the air was clear and crisp, and the silence of the woodland surrounded them, she’d thought he could have been the man to win her heart, despite the rumors she’d heard about him. Nathan Ravenhurst had substance and mettle. He wouldn’t succumb to the drudgery of domestic life. He’d still be stubborn and arrogant, fit and imposing regardless of leg-shackling or setting up a nursery. He wouldn’t lose his edge
or mystery or passion.
He’s different.

Blast. Perhaps
she should retire to the Brighton property and be away from the noise and bustle of Town and everything being in the capitol entailed. The seaside location should be nearly deserted this time of year. Besides, her brother Oliver would soon return to England. If nothing else, she could live with him, look after him for a time.

A soft knock sounded on her door, and before she could bid the intruder enter, the door swung open.
Her mother came into the room, scattering the last of Charlotte’s thoughts.

“I thought I heard you return. Much earlier than you were expected, I might say.” Censure hung in Roberta’s voice. “Was there a problem?”

Charlotte sighed. “Here I assumed you’d be pleased I came back early.” She righted herself on the bed then arranged her skirts properly over her legs. If she didn’t, her mother would lecture on the correct deportment of a lady. One would think that after a certain point in a person’s life, the lectures would stop on principle.

“I am, but now I wish to understand why. What happened? Did you find the crowd was too young and obnoxious?
I could have told you so. That Jamie can be a rather arrogant individual. Takes after his uncle, no doubt.” Roberta settled onto a settee of crushed, pink velvet with her back ramrod straight. “Did anything untoward occur?”

“No, Mother. Everything was lovely. I just grew bored with the company.” There was no sense regaling her parent about what she’d done.
The incident in Nathan’s study would bring hours of reprimands and histrionics, and depending on what sort of mood her brother was in if he caught wind, there’d be no end of drama. He might possibly wish to call the marquess out. That wouldn’t be good for anyone in the situation. “Now, here I am, ready to, once more, be your lapdog and entice eligible men with my charms.” The task was even more unsavory than it had been before she’d gone to Ravenhurst’s estate. She wanted to gag on the words. “Except, I’m not really in the mood for flirting.”

Her mother’s lips thinned.
“You don’t sound happy to be back with your loving mother or even here in civilization.”

“Why should I be when all you’re concerned about is my making a
good match?” Charlotte pleated a section of skirting, released it then pleated it again.

“
This is the way of things, my girl. We’re invited to a rout this evening. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful impression. You always do.” Roberta patted a tendril of hair back into its updo. “Do you want help choosing an outfit? I’m thinking the pearl and diamond earbobs will be a nice addition. The ones that match the choker.”

Who wanted to talk jewelry at a time like this? “I don’t want to go.” She couldn’t help the sullen tone in her voice. “I’m tired from my travels.”
And the effort it took to not cry about the ridiculousness of life.

Roberta buffed the nails of one hand on her gray skirts. “Did you meet anyone of consequence while you were away? You sound unsatisfied with your life here.”

“I’m not unsatisfied, Mother, just introspective at the moment.” She chewed her bottom lip. If anyone would have information or
on-dits
about London and its residents, it was her mother. “I did run into Lord Ravenhurst while in the country. I suppose it would have been only logical since it was his estate.”

“Oh?” Cautious interest warmed her mother’s voice.

“Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “In the short time I spent with him I thought he was pleasant enough but quite formidable. A tad on the cantankerous side. Angry, if I’m completely honest.” Though she still didn’t know why that would be. She lifted her gaze to her mother’s. “Before you force me into his arms, it will do no good. There is talk he’s taken. And besides, I rather doubt we’d suit anyway.” If they would have, he wouldn’t have treated her as a play thing fully knowing he belonged to another. “I suspect two strong personalities won’t rub along well together.”

“Oh, he is
spoken for. The gossip mongers say he’s been promised to the Duke of Amherst’s daughter.”

“
Ah, so that is who the mysterious Lady Sophia is.” Charlotte straightened her spine and sat bolt upright. “Does the marquess know what a twat the duke is?”

“Charlotte Michelle! That is gutter talk and I won’t have it from a daughter of mine.” Iron crackled through Roberta’s voice. Twin spots of color blazed on her mother’s cheeks.

“I apologize.” Charlotte stood in order to pace between her bed and the window. “The duke treated Clarice horribly, and with no manners not two months ago. Surely that news got ‘round. A man with any sense would beg off for such a thing.”

Her mother shrugged. “Even if
the news did become public knowledge, I highly doubt Ravenhurst took notice. If was merely a tiny ripple in the waters of Society. Matches these days are arranged with little to no love between parties. They’re business contacts, positions on social ladders. Nothing more. Gossip won’t destroy such relationships.”

“I know this, but it’s terrible. Marriage should have at least some affection in it.” She turned and glanced at her mother. “Did you love Father?”

“Not at first.” Roberta stood. She shook the wrinkles from her skirt. “He wanted more from life: to travel, to see the world, perhaps a few dalliances, but his title wouldn’t allow it since his father died unexpectedly.” A smile curved her lips. “After he and I were thrown together in years of friendship, then later, the marriage bed, love eventually grew.” Her hazel eyes twinkled. “I gazed at him over tea one afternoon. I was
enceinte
with you. Nurse had taken Felix to the nursery for his nap. Your father looked at me and grinned in a special way he had. In that moment, I realized I loved him and had for some time. The feeling had snuck up on me. Of course, I told him straightaway and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“It took so long in your marriage to find that out?” Charlotte’s chest ached from the knowledge. She’d not been conceived from love, merely duty. How… disappointing and somewhat distasteful. She’d expected more from her parents
, but then, they’d only been mere mortals, with flaws like anyone else.

“Trust me when I say it was a different time. Men are different now, more suited to domestic life, more willing to wed or at least do their duty with some semblance of enthusiasm. It helps there is more cause for socializing in this day and age. People are more apt to have already met and interacted with each other before contracts are drawn. If not love, marriages now have familiarity behind them. Plus, young people are so eager to tumble between the sheets prior to marriage.”

“Mother, bite your tongue. Not all of us have succumbed to temptation, and still hope…”

Roberta narrowed her gaze. “I suppose I should talk to you about what occurs in the marriage bed, but since the years have gone by and you’ve not gotten anywhere close to a proposal—”

“God, please stop.” She waved a hand. It didn’t matter. The fact she’d very nearly done just that with Nathan in his study need not come to her mother’s attention. “Never mind about it. I haven’t lived this long without figuring at least some of it out. The maids like to whisper and my girlfriends are all too happy to share stories of their husbands’ skill or lack thereof.”

“There’s a grain of truth in all of that.”
Roberta moved to the door with a grin on her lips. “Let me know if you require my assistance in your preparations for the evening, my dear. You really do need to make the rounds again. It’s time to start the remainder of your life. Tell your maid to press the purple silk.”

“Very well, though I’d rather wear blue.”
It certainly wasn’t due to the marquess’ comment that the color suited her eyes. Her mother left, but Charlotte knew one thing: she didn’t want such coolness and ambiguity in her life if she did decide to marry. It would be for mutual respect and love, or not at all. Strangers should not become bedmates regardless of how they made a woman’s heart tremble with a mere glance.