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“Yes,” Michael turned so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder looking our across the lush greenery. He seemed more comfortable if he was not looking directly at her. “It is for that reason that I wished to speak with you.”
Charity had suspected for some time that they were approaching this conversation, yet she felt that it was far too soon. She had come to know Michael more. Of course they had seen each other often these past weeks. However, he still seemed an enigma. Each moment that she expected to break open his shell to reveal the layers beneath, she found yet another shell. He remained cool and collected, unswayable. Charity was certain that there was more to Michael Poppy than he let on, but she could not seem to access him. Perhaps one day she hoped that this conversation would bring her excitement, now it brought nothing but dread.
“I would like to speak with you about a very serious matter,” Michael began as if he were about to negotiate the sale of one of their prized hunters. “It is a matter that I believe you will agree is the next logical path.”
“Michael…” Charity stopped herself from rejecting him outright. Was this not the ultimate goal? Even though she had not come to know as much as she would like about this gentleman, she would have her entire life to get to know him. Her intent for spending so much time at his side was to eventually reach this conversation. Then why did she feel as if she wished he had not spoken, or that they had not taken this isolated walk down the path.
“Lady Charity,” his confidence seemed to increase when he was able to stick to his formal address. “I should like to ask your permission to speak with your father.”
“Michael, I…”
“I know that he has not been well,” Michael continued. “I have said nothing to save you the shame.”
“Thank you,” Charity said tightly. Yes, he had saved them embarrassment, but why did she not feel the same gratitude as she felt when Lord Wentwell had protected her?
“I shall have to speak to your eldest male cousin then as well, to ensure that the decision is agreed upon by one of sound reason,” Michael continued.
Charity felt her hackles rise. “My cousin,” she said. They had gone to great lengths to keep the news of her father’s demise from her cousin. Still, she knew that he meant no insult, but this she could not allow.
“My cousin has nothing to do with me, or my marriage,” Charity said haughtily.
“But as the one who will eventually hold the earldom, I think he does.” Michael was merely stating the facts.
Even Charity could not argue the truth. However, she felt protective as she listened to him speak of her father’s ineptitude. She could not allow him to continue. “Stop,” she said. “My cousin has no say in my marriage. My father and perhaps my mother does, but no other.”
“I am not as wealthy as I believe your mother to hope,” he continued. “However, I have a keen sense of business and will do all in my power to continue your happiness.”
“Business!” Charity interjected surprised.
“I know I am not wealthy, but with a bit of capital to fund a new shipping business, I believe that can all change. I shall be wealthy one day.”
“Michael,” Charity said. “It is not for wealth that I care to marry.”
“I am pleased to hear that, though I assure you that my income is nothing to be ashamed about, and it will grow.”
She realized that Michael had taken her statement as encouragement. Charity tried to remind herself that she should be encouraging him. Is this not exactly what she had wanted? The image of Lord Wentwell flashed through her mind and Charity was ashamed of the thought of another man at a moment like this.
The betrayal of her mind renewed her determination to focus on Michael. Perhaps that is what she needed to give her the final push to accept his offer. She felt sick at the thought. Perhaps the heat was too much for her.
“Lady Charity,” Michael raised his chin, his face stoic, and Charity half expected him to offer to shake her hand, if only he did not have his own hands stuck behind his back.
“I also am of the belief that a union of our pair would be most fortuitous, and I will argue for its execution. If you, and of course your father, will consent, I would like to make you my wife.”
She couldn’t do it. She could not say yes. She felt as if her tongue had cleaved to the roof of her mouth. She had wanted this, hadn’t she? She would be sister to all of the Poppys. She would be sister to James, and to Flora. She would not be lonely. She would have a big family, and of course, money would be no issue. She may even be able to help with the younger Poppys’ dowries. It would be the perfect solution.
“There is much to consider…” Charity replied when she finally found her voice.
“I have already weighed the options and I do believe that we would make a steady pair.”
“A steady pair…” Charity repeated. Her determination was dwindling with every word he uttered. Was there not meant to be a proclamation of love? What of a promise of the future, a family, and years of wedded bliss? Were these things not to be spoken upon their engagement?
“Do you love me?” Charity blurted, much as she had asked James if he had loved Flora.
“I…” Michael appeared to be caught off guard by her question. He soon collected himself. “I believe that we shall get on well enough. In fact, couples that get on well often develop a deep sense of love and respect for one another.”
“Develop…” she murmured. Then he did not, at this very moment, love her. Yet, he thought he could.
“Is it not too soon to know?” Charity asked. “Are we not to be certain before making a vow?”
