Page 42 of A Brooding Christmas Promise
None of those words made sense to Charlotte though it was not as though she was going to be able to reason with her stepmother nor with Lady Foster. Her breathing grew ragged and harsh as she fought to free herself. “Take your hands from me!”
“I hardly think so,” Lady Foster huffed, still dragging Charlotte along. “Will you stop fighting us? Do you know how difficult it was for us to make our way in here?”
“Unhand me!”
“Enough!” Her stepmother wheeled around but rather than releasing Charlotte, sent a blow right across her cheek, making Charlotte cry out. “You are to be returned to the Dower house. Youwillleave London, whether you wish it or not!”
“I will not!” Despite the pain in her cheek and the dizziness which now washed over her, Charlotte continued to pull back, her feet sliding a little on the floor. “I have no intention of leaving!”
A hard laugh came from Lady Foster. “Oh, but you will. Come now, the journey back to the house is long and we –”
“No!” Charlotte yanked back with all her strength, the thought of leaving Lord Crestwood too much for her to bear. He would think that what she had witnessed had sent her running back to the Dower house and, even if there was nothing genuine between them, she still did not want to end their connection in that way. A sudden shout broke all around her and, much to her relief, two footmen appeared from around the corner.
And then, a strong presence filled the hallway and Charlotte did not even need to look in order to realise who it was to know that it was Lord Crestwood. His voice, loud and authoritative, burst between them all.
“Take your hands from her at once!”
In that moment, Lady Barcsay turned and, gasping in shock, dropped Charlotte’s arm at once, bringing her some relief. Lady Foster, on the other hand, gripped her all the more tightly and Charlotte fought not to cry out.
“I said, take your hands from her,” Lord Crestwood cried, his hand reaching to grasp Lady Foster’s arm and pull her away but, just as he did so, Charlotte twisted away from her and finally,found herself free. Gasping, she stumbled back but managed to keep her balance, one hand rubbing at the opposite arm where the marks of Lady Foster’s fingers had been.
Lord Crestwood’s anger was evident, his stance tall and broad, his eyes blazing as he directed the two footmen. “You there, open up this parlor and escort these two ladies within. Neither of them are to leave.”
Charlotte moved to be next to him, her chest tight, her breath coming in short gasps as he slipped one hand about her waist, his strength supporting her.
Lady Barcsay shook her head in response to his demands, her initial shock appearing to have melted away within only a few moments. Instead, she tilted up her chin, threw up her hands and then placed them on her hips. “You have no right to demand anything! We are merely –”
Lord Crestwood interrupted her at once, his voice louder and filled with authority. “You are in my home and have attempted to not only injure but abscond with my betrothed. Now, either you will make your way to the parlor alone or I will lead you to it myself… or carry you, if I must.”
The shock which again filled Lady Barcsay’s expression told Charlotte that she had not recognized until this moment exactly who this gentleman was. When Lord Crestwood moved towards Lady Foster, she let out a small exclamation and, with a glance to her sister, made her way to the parlor.
Lady Barcsay would not move, however. Charlotte looked at her directly, refusing to let any sort of fear show in her expression. Instead, she gazed back at Lady Barcsay, her heart still thundering furiously but the threat now had passed.
Lord Crestwood stepped forward and, with a start, Lady Barcsay hesitated, then turned and slowly made her way to the parlor. Charlotte caught the way she glanced over her shoulder, perhaps hoping that there might be a way for her to escape, butLord Crestwood immediately directed the footmen to stand in front of the door, saying that they could lock it if it was required. It was only then that he turned to face her, catching her hands in his and looking down at her with such tenderness in his eyes, Charlotte wanted to weep with relief.
The look in his eyes was too much and Charlotte closed her eyes so that it was hidden from her. “I think I am.”
He pressed her hands gently, only to then release them and gently begin to wrap them around her waist, pulling her closer – and slowly, the shock of what had happened began to fade, replaced instead with a comforting warmth. “I did not mean – that is to say, what you saw of Lady Grifford and I, that was not my intention. Please, do not think otherwise. I know this is not the time for such things but I do not want you to think that there is any connection between Lady Grifford and myself. There cannot be again. She was trying to… well, that does not matter.” He let out a small sigh as Charlotte opened her eyes to look at him, aware of the trembling within her frame. “What happened here? What was Lady Foster and the other trying to do?”
“My stepmother.”
“They were both attempting to steal you away from the ball?”
Tears began to burn in her eyes as she recalled precisely what it was they had intended to do. “From London. They intended to return me to the Dower house and, from what I understand, keep me prisoner there.” Again, the thought of being separated from him ran through her mind and she shuddered, just as his arms tightened around her waist.
“But why? What was it that they wanted from that?”
She shook her head, knowing that she did not yet have all the answers. “I – I do not rightly know. We should find my sister and brother in law, however.”
He nodded. “Of course.” Again, his eyes fixed to hers, worry lingering in his expression. “Are you sure you are well?”
The comfort he offered her was not something that she could resist. Whether this meant anything more than a mere friendship, Charlotte could not say but, boldly, she let her head rest on his shoulder, her eyes closing as a small smile touched the corners of her mouth. “I am. Thank goodness you found me.”
When his lips brushed her temple, Charlotte’s heart clamored for more, begging her to lift her head, to look up into his eyes, to let his lips be only a fraction away from her own but instead, she simply remained where she was, letting the comfort of his arms take away her shock and fright.
After a few moments, Lord Crestwood leaned back just a little and Charlotte lifted her head. “Let us go and find Lord and Lady Hesterway. There is much we must understand.”
She nodded, the desire to find out the truth growing quickly within her. “I am sorry this has taken place during your Christmas ball.”
