Page 47 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

Someone touched his arm—gently, but he still jumped.

Charlotte’s dark eyes met his. He expected derision, contempt, or, at the very least, castigation. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Could it be compassion and understanding shining in those brown depths?

Wonder of wonders.

“Your father shared stories of your boyhood with me this morning. I sense your restlessness and need to be doing something. There’s nothing here for you to do. Go. Busy yourself however you choose.” Her voice cracked at the last two words.

Or was that his imagination? Open-mouthed, he gaped at themere idea she was encouraging him to leave while everyone else waited patiently.

“Even Drake said so. And he knows you better than I do.”

He grasped her hands and squeezed. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Just promise me one thing.”

At that moment, he would promise her the moon if it meant he could rid himself of the situation. “What?”

“Be discreet.”

Oh.Oooh.“I won’t do what you’re thinking. Especially not on our wedding day. And when I told you I would not seek out other women, I meant it.”

“Thank you,” she said, but something in her eyes said she didn’t quite believe him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He made quick apologies to his family, with his mother sending him the look that made him feel like he was ten years old. Then he bounded up the stairs, two at a time. After buttoning his waistcoat, hastily tying his neckcloth, and slipping on his coat, he raced downstairs and ordered a carriage brought around.

Rain pelted his hat as he climbed inside.

But at least he could breathe again.

CHAPTER 14

Charlotte should have been angry with her husband. And truth be told, at first, she was furious at his cowardly behavior. But her heart softened at the fear and panic in his eyes each time Honoria cried out in the pains of childbirth.

Only a little, mind you. The iron wall she’d built around her heart was practically impenetrable. Or perhaps it wasn’t shielded so much as buried. Deep under layers of childhood rejection and disappointment, she’d safeguarded it from attack. Unsure when it happened—it had been quite sudden—but one day she realized her father’s constant complaint that she wasn’t born a son no longer stung. His grousing over the fact he would have to pay for a dowry and having nothing to show for it when she married no longer mattered.

“The one thing you could do for me is marry well. The king and queen have several unmarried sons, but a duke would do. Even a foreign prince would be acceptable. But if you ever—and I mean ever—wish to marry an untitled man, you will be dead to me. Do you understand? I don’t care how rich he is or how much land he owns.”

So she did what any self-respecting woman would do; she refused to marry anyone at all. Spiteful? Yes. She prided herself on how clever she had been. Knowing full well if her father made a match for her with anacceptablesuitor she would have little choice, she made herself as disagreeable as possible. A sharp tongue and acerbic wit had sent many a hopeful man scampering away in search of a more biddable wife. Scowls and disdainful glances replaced the smiles and batting eyelashes of more hopeful debutantes.

When her father died, Roland not only assumed the marquessate, but their father’s requirements for a spouse. Oh, how Roland hated when Nash had married Adalyn, whom Roland called “the American woman.” One who dared venture into the man’s world of medicine, no less!

As much as she silently celebrated and rejoiced in Nash’s freedom, she knew it would only exacerbate Roland’s efforts to secure an advantageous match for her. Or should she say—for him? The deal he had struck with Lord Felix and his father, Lord Scarborough, had been diabolical, and he cared little how it would harm her.

All she wanted was to live her life in peace, unencumbered by another man who would control her. She had no illusions of love like her friends did. And with her rejection of The Worm, she fully expected to face a future alone and disgraced. And she had accepted it, embraced it even. It was preferable to the alternative.

And yet, here she was. Married. To an untitled man who vexed her. With a large and boisterous family.

Her father was probably tossing in his grave.

The idea made her smile.

“What is it, my dear?” Mrs. Beckham pulled her from her musings. “You seem wistful. Are you perhaps thinking of the time when you and Simon will be having your own children?”

Goodness, no!Charlotte’s stomach knotted with each of Honoria’s cries, exacerbating her fear of childbirth. And unlikeDrake, who braved the birthing room to remain by his wife’s side, if Simon turned tail and ran when he wasn’t even the father, what would he do when his own child was being born? Desert her entirely?

“I was simply wondering if the baby might have Honoria’s red hair.” A lie, certainly, but if nothing else, Charlotte was adept at prevarication.

Mrs. Beckham pursed her lips and gave her an odd look.

---