Page 8 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
“It depends on the listener and on the truth, doesn’t it?” He looked away. “I don’t have anything else to say on the matter as of yet. But I’m happy you know so there can be no misunderstandings.”
Her heart pinched just a little bit. Was he saying they could have nothing between them? Did they not merit just as much of a consideration in his mind as this young girl from home? She shook her head. But at the sorrow in his face, she said no more.
Then she tugged at him, pulled him to his feet, and hugged him as tightly as she could. “I’m so sorry you are having to deal with this.”
The arms that circled about her, at first hesitating, cradled her as though something precious, then his hands ran along her back and pulled her as closely as she’d ever been held. His heart hammered beneath hers, and she realized that she’d never hugged Lord Lockhart before.
Or if she had, it was never like this.
She clung to him, not knowing what else to do, but not able to let go. She buried her head in his chest. “Lord Lockhart.”
He rested a chin on her head and held her close, saying nothing.
When she pulled away, he wiped the moisture from his face quickly, but not quickly enough.
“What is this? Is this something you plan to take seriously? We can talk about this. You are not bound. We should speak with Gerald, certainly.”
“No. I don’t wish to speak to anyone, except you. The more who know, the more I’m bound.” He adjusted his sleeve, an impatient, uncomfortable motion. “And shouldn’t I be? If I left a young woman with the understanding that there would be more between us…what kind of man disappoints her?”
Charity wanted to shout all kinds of things about men and not pursuing something simply out of obligation, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know which one to say and she didn’t dare say what was in her heart, which was a painfully obvious new realization that she didn’t want Lord Lockhart pursuing anyone in the world, ever.
Except her.
They madetheir way back into the ballroom with nothing decided, nothing spoken, but everything seemingly changed.
The music to a waltz began, and Charity stepped into his arms. “Let’s dance this set.”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but he nodded. “Certainly.”
She knew he was reluctantly dancing with her. But he had sought to tell her his deepest concern. But she wasn’t certain why. Did he plan to marry this girl from his past? Did he have feelings for Charity?
All their time together flashed before her eyes. All the moments of her great exasperation, every argument, every debate, every single time she’d taken him for granted and the regret that followed poignantly tore at her step by step as he attempted a semblance of indifference in their waltz.
But she could feel nothing but closeness.
And as she watched his handsome face, his deep brown eyes, try to avoid looking at her, she decided she was not giving up without a fight.
“I was thinking about the Corn Laws.”
His eyes shot to hers. “You were?”
“Yes, what will happen to the poor in our country if they increase tax on corn? Who thinks of these things as any sort of solution?”
“They wouldn’t.”
“You said Lord Kenworthy mentioned it. Right on the floor of the House of Lords.”
“Surely he was all talk. How could they do such a thing?” He shook his head.
“But do you ever wonder what it will take to keep the people from their riots? Perhaps we need to suppress them, keep books out of their hands, force them to spend all their energy working for their very subsistence?” She shrugged as if it were a viable option.
“No, Charity, are you hearing yourself? That is the worst idea. If we’ve dropped so low that we cannot trust our people to have intelligent thoughts, then we are low indeed.” He began a lengthy discourse, quoting all of Charity’s most favorite intellectual thinkers of the day until she was beaming, her mouth hurting form the force of such a large smile.
He stopped. “You did that on purpose.”
“Of course. Someone needed to smack some sense back into your melancholy ways. Come, Lord Lockhart. Haven’t we other things to be thinking of than your sorry swoony childhood love?”
“She’s not my love. Childhood or otherwise.” The gaze he sent piercing into her heart was adamant on that note at least.
