Page 60 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

She patted the mattress again, and Charlotte sat and took Honoria’s hand.

Honoria’s brow furrowed. “I don’t even know quite how to ask this.”

“Perhaps you could try my approach and be direct?” Charlotte prepared herself.

“Did things go well last night? Was Simon gentle with you?”

“Didn’t Drake tell you? My husband spent most of the evening at a gaming hell. Nothing happened between us.” At least not what Honoria was dancing around.

“Oh.” Honoria seemed . . . disappointed.

“Remember, ours is not a love match like yours and Drake’s. Neither of us wanted this. It’s an arrangement, nothing more. There are no tender feelings which need to be acted upon.”

Honoria shook her head. “How can you not see it? Simon cares for you. Why else would he offer for you to save your reputation?”

“He has his reasons, which I’m not at liberty to reveal. But Simon Beckham only cares for what folly awaits him.”

“Oh, Charlotte, that’s not true. Simon is an honorable man. And I’m not the only one to notice there is something between you.” Pink bloomed on her cheeks again. “Surely, he would be willing if you gave him the slightest encouragement. And I’mcertain he would be gentle and attentive. I’ve found great pleasure in being married.”

“If this is supposed to replace the conversation I would have had with my mother on the eve of my wedding, consider your task complete.”

“Promise me you’ll give him a chance?”

Pressure tightened around Charlotte’s chest. She knew she couldn’t put off Simon forever. But promising Honoria made it much too real. She swallowed. “I promise.”

“Good.” She yawned and stretched. “Now, while I have an opportunity, I think I shall try to sleep.”

Charlotte rose and once again straightened the counterpane around her friend.

Then she strode out the door, summoning the strength to see her promise through.

CHAPTER 17

Between his family and Aunt Kitty, Simon hardly had time to think about what had happened—or not happened—between him and Charlotte the night before, and the day sped by faster than a race through Hyde Park in his phaeton.

Aunt Kitty monopolized her namesake much of the time, barely allowing his mother or sisters an opportunity to hold the darling child. Oddly, each time someone offered Charlotte an opportunity to hold the infant, she lifted her hand and waved them off, saying, “I feel a sniffle coming on,” or “She looks so peaceful; let’s not disturb her.”

Yet, when she was preoccupied and unaware of observation, he stole glances at her, catching how her eyes filled with a sad longing. He took a seat next to her on the settee.

“It’s an excuse,” he whispered.

She stiffened next to him, sending him the all-too-familiar glare. “I beg your pardon!” The exclamation was muffled and overshadowed by Kitty’s cries.

“You’re nervous about holding her.”

She huffed and turned away. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Practice. That’s all you need.”

“Hmph!”

“But if you’re too afraid of trying . . .”

Aha!That did it.

“I’m not afraid. I simply don’t want to disturb her.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “She’s wailing her head off from the way Georgie is jerking her about. Allow me to rescue the child and show you how to quiet her.”

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