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He knew she’d heard tales in the powder room amid all the inane giggling, believing them nothing more than overblown gossip. Hearing it from a gentleman, however, was quite different.
Sensing that her will was about to crumble, Herrington pressed his advantage. “Should you somehow manage to force Pelham to the altar, you would be miserable, Miss Charlotte. You want love and fidelity from a man whose passion is for you and you alone, and Pelham is incapable of giving that to any woman.”
She stared at him, visibly stricken.
He looked down and toyed with the hem of his silk jacket, feigning pained reluctance. “Much as I hate to admit it, I’m no better than you in where I place my affection. She will never care for me, especially now that she’s taken up with that ridiculous Italian. I, along with everyone else, can see she has fallen prey to his wicked influence. She is lost to me forever. So you see, Miss Charlotte, we are both bleeding from wounds to the heart. We’ve loved those who never have and never will love us back.”
Her tear-filled eyes lifted, full of despair, and Herrington squirmed inside. He’d justified his choice, but she’d done nothing to deserve what was about to happen.
It should never have come to this. Mélisande should have been his. She would be his! And she would pay for every sin he committed in making it happen. She would pay each and every night for the remainder of her life. His blood heated at the thought of how he would exact his revenge.
His thoughts must have shown in his eyes, for Charlotte froze.
Herrington cursed himself for his lack of self-control, shaking his head and looking down to cover his slip. “We are of a kind,” he sighed. “You understand the pain in my heart, and I know yours as no one else can. Your sweetness and compassion have eased my heartache, Miss Charlotte. Our shared suffering has forever formed a bond of kinship between us.”
He gave a weak laugh. “I should be content to name you friend and confidante after such commiseration, but instead, I am ashamed to say that, that...well, the truth is I’m afraid I find myself unexpectedly drawn to you, Miss Charlotte.”
Shock wrote itself all over her face.
“I cannot help but wish she had a heart like yours, but she does not,” he continued. “I see now that she is a fickle jade unworthy of my tender regard. It is strange, but in admitting so, I find her power over me diminished.”
“I—I’m glad to have been a help.”
“You have freed me, Miss Charlotte. You have freed me from her spell.”
A bitter smile crossed her lips. “Truly, I am glad to have been a help to you, Your Grace. I wish you happiness in your newfound freedom.”
“But I am not free.”
Her cloud-colored eyes flicked up, wary.
“I find it ironic to be liberated from one bewitchment only to fall prey to another,” he continued. “Your compassion has touched me in a way I had not thought possible, Miss Charlotte. After having been imprisoned in the dark with my own bitterness for so long, the warmth and light of your kindness is like the sun. And your purity and beauty are as a bright flame.”
Charlotte jerked back as he reached for her.
“Forgive me!” Herrington dropped his hand. “I’m afraid I have simply lost all reason this night—leave me before I say any more!”
She started to obey, but before she could turn, he leapt up and grasped her wrist. He felt her pulse hammering beneath his fingers as she stared at him, trembling like cornered prey. Genuine excitement stirred in his loins.
She was confused and terrified.
Perfect.
“I beg one last word before you leave,” he pleaded. “Tell me if you feel anything for me, anything at all. A simple yes or no will suffice, and I shall be satisfied.”
“I, I don’t—I don’t know!” she quavered.
He leaned closer. “Tell me you feel nothing for me, Miss Charlotte
, and I will leave you in peace. I swear it.”
When she did not answer, he took her silence for a yes. Taking her in his arms, he pulled her close and brushed his lips against her mouth. When she shivered and softened, he parted them and plundered her mouth, enjoying the knowledge that he was stealing her from Pelham’s unworthy grasp.
“Charlotte,” he whispered, surprised at how much he actually desired the chit, even though he knew it was nothing compared to his lust for Mélisande. Still, he would be equal to the task of deflowering this gullible little nitwit, should the need arise.
Tilting her head back, Charlotte closed her eyes, opening to him completely.
A total surrender. Herrington smiled triumphantly as he leaned her back against the cushions of the settee.
