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It was now clear that Miss Macrum had dangled before his brother, but it was truly him she wished to catch, and Miss Danbury had no interest in either of them. Her passion for horses, was actually a passion for the master of the horse. He had been so blind, but when Miss Danbury’s father approached him, he had thought only to protect Miss Danbury’s reputation for the sake of her family. Her father hoped, that if she were not with child, a lesser match may be made next season. Neville did not even know if a child was possible, only that his stablemaster had come to him later in the hopes of marrying the woman, and he had dismissed the man out of hand. Such dishonorable behavior was not welcome in his household.
Now Neville’s own besmirched reputation had scattered the available ladies from him. It hurt to think that what he thought of as a game, had turned so serious. TheTonhad convicted him of his crimes without judge or jury and he knew it was his own fault. He had embraced the libertine attitude because the ladies liked the danger, until it was real, in the sense of Miss Danbury. Then they avoided him like a leper. He had no recourse. He had cultivated the reputation. He could not shed it now.
He could of course wait a few years. The rumor would die down eventually, and he was not a female who needed to marry by a certain age. He could wait. The problem was, he knew that Lady Charity would not, and he had determined that it was Lady Charity he wanted for his wife. Why was it then, when he had played this game so well, he now found himself stalemated?
At first Lady Charity seemed determined to speak to him. She even wrote him a letter when her mother prevented any further interaction between the pair. Neville chose not to reply. He knew not what to say anyway. He could not be honest, for Lady Charity had already seen too much for him to allow her to learn more of his true person. To give her so much would be to give what he gave to Katherine. It would be heartache all over again. He held Lady Charity’s letter in his hands and considered. He could write back to her, only what would he say? Was it fair to tie her name with his now? She would be suspect as soon as he did so, and he did not want to besmirch her reputation.
He could no longer play the game with her, because, he realized his heart was involved. Neither did he wish to deceive her by replying with a false pretense. So he had said nothing.
Now, he watched her from afar. Neville was certain that his observations went unnoticed. All, save his good friend Reginald, were oblivious to his interest in the lady. Reginald had a keen eye and was also the only person, save Samuel Beresford, who knew the truth of that day in the park.
Reg had encouraged his friend to be out with the truth of his feelings, but Neville thought that might only make the situation all the more confusing. At least, this way, Lady Charity could go on with her life without being mixed up in the mess of his. When Reg informed him that something of a courtship had developed between Lady Charity and Michael Poppy, Neville feigned disinterest.
Observation revealed that the pair was spending a great deal of time together. Lady Charity seemed to be focusing all of her attention on drawing the quiet fellow out of his shell. Her mother, for whatever reason, did not disapprove of the match. This would have been surprising except for the fact that Wentwell assumed the approval had something to do with ensuring that her daughter avoided him.
Lady Charity’s mother was a shrewd woman with a keen eye. She would shepherd her daughter through life in order to achieve her own means, but she would not choose Michael Poppy. The family had little in the way of assets. No, Lady Shalace would not choose Michael, not unless the Lady Charity truly cared for the man. If that was the life she wanted for herself, why should he stand in the way?
A fire burned in his blood as he thought of her with Michael Poppy. He wanted her for himself, that was why, but he said nothing. He had no right to do so. To even be seen with her now, would bring dishonor upon her. Still the thought of her with Michael hurt.
Neville shook the image from his mind. He should not be so concerned with what Lady Charity wanted. It was clear that it could not, would not be him. This was for the best. He had no intention of marrying. He had done a kindness for the girl by leaving her alone. As the days passed he continued to keep his distance but, try as he might, he could never convince himself to stop watching and listening for her movements.
~.~
Lady Charity and Flora Muirwood were walking in the late afternoon upon the arms of the Poppy brothers. They had spent nearly every afternoon this week strolling through the extensive gardens that peppered the streets of Bath. Each day they chose a new route and, while it was meant to be different, Charity feared that this might be all that was left for her entertainment for the rest of her days. Charity tried to imagine what her life would be like if she were married to Michael and Flora were married to James. She had a hard time imagining the picture with appeal.
“Lady Charity,” Michael drew her attention and then offered the same type of blue flower that he plucked every day for the past two weeks to offer for her pleasure. He had said that it brought out the color of her eyes. Perhaps that was so, but Charity could not help but long for more variety. Michael was all too predictable. She wondered if there was something that might be done about that. Perhaps she just needed to teach him how to be more spontaneous.
“Michael,” she began with breathy excitement. The prospect of something different had renewed her energy. “Look! There is a path just there that we have not tried. We should take it and see where it might lead.”
Michael looked around in an attempt to locate Flora and James. They were a ways ahead and not at all missing their companions.
To Charity’s surprise, Michael agreed.
The path was overgrown to the point that Charity could not make out the trail more than a handful of yards ahead of them. The trees formed a canopy overhead. The reprieve from the grasping fingers of the sun was a relief. Charity lowered her parasol and allowed the breeze to tickle he neck with the strands of hair that had escaped her neat chignon.
“Lady Charity,” Michael stepped in front of her so that she might stop walking. He appeared distraught and Charity wondered if something were the matter.
“I have told you, you may call me Charity,” she replied. If she was planning on marrying the fellow, she should be able to call him by his given name, and he hers. She took a deep breath. She could do this.
“C-Charity,” Michael said, but her name did not roll off of his tongue with ease. He was more comfortable with formal address, even with those with whom he was close.
“What is it, Michael?” she asked. There was a fine line of perspiration upon his brow and she wondered if he was ill. She asked as much, but he just shook his head. Perhaps it was just the heat making him look so green.
“It is only,” he began but allowed his words to trail away, his sentence unfinished.
Buck up, man, she thought uncharitably, and then she said with more patience. “What did you wish to say, Michael?” See, called him by his given name. It was not so hard. Lead by example, she told herself.
Michael still stood, tongue tied, biting his lip. She could make no sense of his behavior. Charity had learned that Michael Poppy did well with clear instruction. “Speak your piece,” she demanded.
As predicted, he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and began again with what confidence he could muster.
“Lady …” he grimaced when she gave him a pointed look. “Charity,” he amended. “Our families have known one another for many years…”
“Yes,” she nodded. “That, they have.”
“I know that you have long thought of me as a cousin.” For the first time Michael seemed uncomfortable. His loss for words was uncharacteristic because Charity had never known him to speak without great thought and preparation.
“Your family has always been very dear to me,” she confirmed.
