Page 82 of Unforeseen Affairs
Charlotte stood a short distance away, staring out into the dark, angry clouds. Her face still dripped with rain, her eyelashes wet and spiked. Colin approached, wanting to take her into his arms and kiss her, to lick away the raindrop that had nestled itself in the Cupid’s bow of her upper lip.
But he still felt shy, and full of worry that she might reject his suit. That her family would hate him, and she’d bear a bastard who would one day hate him in turn.And the papers, he thought glumly,what a heyday they’d have withthattale.
He also still doubted himself over the fact that, just a few hours prior, she’d risen from the bed only to go cry silently in the corner. Of course, she’d claimed it had nothing to do with him, suggesting the room had been filled with spirits, but Colin knew better now; that there were no such things as spirits in this world. Bernard was dead at the bottom of the ocean, and while he was not forgotten, Colin was now certain his soulrested somewhere out of reach. The only spirits afoot were those fabricated by frauds like Mr. Bass.
No, there was only the here and now. Her and him, and the prospect of building something bigger and better than he’d ever imagined for himself: true happiness.
Here, alone in the countryside as they sheltered from the storm, it seemed as if a world could exist in which such a thing were possible. If only they would allow it for themselves. Wistfully, Colin watched Charlotte—so remote, so beautiful.
She looked over to him, and her expression changed, from closed-off and distant to open and imploring. She reached for his hand.
He took it, then gently tugged her closer, into his embrace. She allowed his arms to envelop her, her garments wet and chilled. It was a far more encouraging response than he’d hoped for.
There was a gentleness to the moment, the countryside quiet and yielding underneath the force of the deluge. There was nothing to do but be silent and wait; even the horses knew to rest. They blew out a sigh here and there, otherwise content to watch the water pouring off the edge of the roof. Glad to be under it, rather than out in the rain.
The soft, clean scent of Charlotte’s hair was stronger now that she’d been drenched; Colin could detect a sharp, citrusy note to it. He shut his eyes and breathed in deeply.
His head felt unsteady, but far better than it had at any point since his episode the day before. If only he weren’t such a wreck of a man, and could lick this affliction, they’d be in Manchester now. They might have already completed their task and done away with Mr. Bass’s ability to prey upon vulnerable families. His obligation to Beaky would be fulfilled, their association well and truly over. Alice, it seemed, would care little about the massive favor done for her family, but Colin found he did notwish to see her again anyway. He prayed she would be happy with her Army captain.
Somewhat to his surprise, the thought of Beaky and Alice, and the impending end of his relationships with them, still weighed on him. He sighed.
“What is it?”
Charlotte interrupted his thoughts, with a hint of concern in her voice. Weeks ago he’d never have been able to place it, but now it struck him straight in the chest, made his throat thicken with emotion.
She cared for him. Surely she must, at least the slightest amount.
He tightened his hold on her. He did not want to release her for any reason, he realized with certainty. He needed a purpose.
“Only I will be glad to have this entire Thaddeus Taggart Bass nonsense done with,” he said honestly.
He would do anything for her, if she would only say the word.
An entirely new world of possibilities had opened before him. Hell, Colin didn’t care anymore what his father would say, nor what he might think, were he to marry a Sedley bastard. He might even decide to remain on half-pay forever, hang the old man. His outlook had shifted seemingly overnight. He had already placed himself in Charlotte’s service, but now he began to seriously wonder about putting his pledge to her in writing, forever.
What would she say to that?
Charlotte had remained silent. She was looking down, fiddling with the watch fob she wore around her neck, the one that had been her uncle’s. The uncle who had dallied with an admiral’s wife—though certainly not a Gearing’s wife.
He gently released her from his embrace, then turned her about to face him, eye to eye as they stood the same height. Thunder rumbled from seemingly every direction.
“And you?” he whispered, acutely feeling every beat of his heart. “Are you… troubled about anything?”
Her brows narrowed for a brief moment.
“No. Merely wet.”
“This morning, I…” He paused, and swallowed his words. They would not do; she’d only brush off his worries with more talk of shades and ill omens. Or worse, stop him from speaking entirely, as she had in bed when she’d distracted him with the maddening roll of her hips and her eager cunt around his cock. He’d been so flustered he’d only managed to sputter a vague promise to do anything for her. Now, though, was the moment to be straightforward with her.
If he wasn’t, he would not forgive himself for what they had done.
“Your father is a kind man,” he began again. “I’m sure… were he to have been informed of your mother’s condition, he would have done the decent thing.”
Something flickered in her eyes. It felt like a warning, but Colin kept on. He had to say it; he could not go on like this.
“It cannot have been easy for you, being brought up in the theater, not knowing your father.”
“I rather enjoyed it, actually,” she said nonchalantly. “I consider it very much an important part of me.”
