Page 22 of Too Wylde To Tame
Yes, he would clearly have considerable efforts ahead of him to assuage Marguerite’s mistrust and soothe her hostility toward him. As they left the room, Charity looked over her shoulder at him, a soft smile playing about her lips. He acknowledged then that his feelings for her, unlikely as it should have been, went far beyond simple desire or infatuation. They went much deeper than that. Unwilling to call it love, at least immediately, he did acknowledge that he was certainly on the cusp of falling completely in love with her.
After a suitable amount of time had passed, he exited the drawing room, making for the small study that Marguerite had indicated. As he neared it he heard voices—Marguerite and Charity were deep in conversation.
“Are you certain that you can trust him?”
“I am,” Charity replied to her aunt. “I know that the circumstances at first looked very bad, but his explantation has been borne out by the behavior displayed by Lord Jameson since we arrived here. Why do you distrust him so?”
“The Dartwells have a long history of questionable character,” Marguerite answered stiffly. “And while, until he failed to show for his arranged visit with you he had never displayed any similarities to his relations, it cannot be ignored. Both Felicity and Benedicta have married under… we will call them unusual circumstances. I had hoped to ensure that you and Cordelia might have more traditional courtships and betrothals. You’ve known him for such a short time, Charity.”
“I’ve known him for long enough,” Charity insisted. “I know it’s unorthodox. I do. But, there are times in this life when you must simply take a leap of faith. This is the right choice. I know it. I cannot tell you how I know it, but I do.”
Heartened by her words, and more certain than ever about the course of action he’d chosen, Frederick knocked on the door. With only a brief hesitation, he opened and stepped inside. “Lady Marguerite, I’m certain you know what it is that I wished to speak with you about. I have asked Charity to be my wife and she has consented. But I would not move forward without her family’s approval.”
“My brother has entrusted me with approving their matches,” Lady Marguerite stated. “And while I have concerns, it is clear that Charity’s mind is set on this. I hope, for both your sakes, that she will not have cause to regret this.”
“I will never give her reason to,” he vowed. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he produced a small leather box. “I brought this with me in hopes that I would be granted an opportunity to present it to you. It belonged to my grandmother.”
* * *
Charity accepted the box,opening the delicate closure with slightly trembling hands. Nestled against a bed of silk inside was a golden band topped with a single large diamond. On either side of it was a cluster of three very small pearls. It was lovely. Lifting it from the box, she slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly which was something of a surprise. It fit as if it had been made for her.
“It’s perfect. I’ve never seen a more perfect ring,” she said, her voice quavering slightly.
“I will leave you two alone,” Marguerite said. “But only for a moment.”
The second that Marguerite left the room, she launched herself at him. His arms closed tightly around her and she savored that contact, that feeling ofrightnesswhen he held her. She’d never really fit anywhere, except with her sister and her cousins. But she fit with him. Perfectly.
“If you want a traditional wedding—”
“I don’t,” she interrupted. “I just want to be married to you as quickly as possible. I don’t care if we have a big wedding.”
“I can go to Rochester and obtain a common license. I’ll be gone half a day,” be said.
“Can’t we just go to Gretna Green?”
“It will be a hasty wedding, but not a furtive one. There is no reason for you to marry without your sister and your cousins present. I would not have you regret later that they were not there to share the day with you.”
They might not have known one another for very long, but it was clear to her that he knew her well. He understood her in a way very few others had. “I know you’re right. I’m just so afraid that something will get it our way again.”
“There is no power on earth that could keep me from you,” he whispered.
He kissed her then, a tender brush of his lips over hers. Charity shuddered at the contact, clinging to him. That kiss was sweet and tender, but the fire that had burned between them earlier was still there, banked and waiting to roar to life again.
The sound of Marguerite clearing her throat from the doorway had them breaking apart. But there was no guilty flush. Neither of them were the least bit sorry.
“Two days,” he said.
She could not even think about what getting through the next two days would be like. She could barely manage to think of how she might get through dinner without simply flinging herself into his arms.
“Two days,” she agreed. It would feel like a lifetime.
FIFTEEN
Entering the notorious gaming hell near St. James Place, Oliver Kent caught sight of the dejected form of Lord Jameson Dartwell. Nothing in all of England traveled as fast as gossip. He’d received a letter just that afternoon from someone in attendance at Randford’s little house party. They’d been only too happy to relay the tale of Jameson’s disgrace.
Approaching the small sitting area where the other man lounged negligently with a doxy he could not afford perched on his lap, Ollie offered him a friendly smile. “Back from the country so soon?”
Jameson looked up and his expression was sullen. Not unusual. Jameson was always sullen. “Miss Wylde has made her choice. Her preferences are quite clear and I have been summarily dismissed as any sort of viable suitor.”
