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“I do not believe they do,” Lady Charity said, and when he meant to disagree, she continued. “They think the worst of themselves.”
He frowned. “How so?” he asked confused.
And blushing she replied, “They ask themselves, if they were in Miss Danbury’s place or a similar situation, would they be so sorely tempted.”
The blush on her face, and the grip she had on her fan spoke volumes to him, and he smiled a secret smile that made him feel warm inside.
She did not look at him, but he looked very carefully at her, memorizing every nuance of her face, the thought that she would want him made his heart sing.
They sat in companionable silence the rest of the way to her home, and Neville wondered at her ability to be so still when most women found silence daunting. The footman opened the door and he alighted first. He helped Lady Charity to the ground and walked with her to her door. Neville led Charity slowly. He did not want to part from her. He bowed low over her hand and kissed it tenderly. When he stood back up, he lifted a hand to her face and restrained himself from kissing her there on the front step, instead he cupped her chin and stared into her eyes. She reached up, unexpectedly to touch the forming bruise below his eye. Her touch was tenderness itself, and then she let her hand drop to her side.
“Had I known earlier what I know now, Lady Charity, I would never have chosen to play the game I played. I would do naught to upset you.” He knew he had hurt her, however unintentionally.
“It can still be undone,” she whispered. “You need only allow the truth to come to light.”
He paused a moment and then continued. “Your father gave me leave to court you,” he said. “But I do not believe your father was entirely clear about my identity at the time. Still, I believe, asking your cousin for permission would be a mistake.”
“Lud yes!” she exclaimed.
“And so, I think you are a lady who knows her own mind. I would like to call upon you, to court you with intent to marry.”
Charity felt her heart leap for joy, but she nodded her assent coolly. Then she said with a twinkle in her eye, “but has that not been what we have been doing, Lord Wentwell?”
“How so?”
“I know your family secrets; you know mine…” she quipped.
“I’ve met your mother; you’ve met mine,” he countered, and Charity blushed embarrassed. “Oh, but I have never apologized for the way my mother treated you, or the awful things I said at the opening ball.” she said. Her hand went to her mouth.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “That was a lifetime ago, Lady Charity, and you mother was only protecting you.” He took a deep breath. “I hope to convince The Lady Shalace, that I am not a complete libertine. I might ask you to ease that path.”
Her lips quirked up in a smile. “I will,” she promised.
“Then, until the morrow,” he said with a bow. He turned with a grin. “Will it be too early if I arrive before noon?”
“I shall have breakfast set,” she promised and with that hope in her heart, Lord Wentwell wasback in the carriage and it was pulling away.
Lady Charity stood watching it for a minute before entering the house. It was quiet, which meant her mother was still out, and her father, agitated earlier in the day, had retired for the night. Charity also retired to her room and spent the evening reading and waiting for her mother to return from her card playing with Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Sullivan. She contemplated the events of the afternoon and wondered how she might smooth The Earl of Wentwell’s way with her mother. She was not quite sure what she would tell her mother about Lord Wentwell, only that she must do so.
~.~
Chapter Twenty-Five
The conversation with Lady Shalace did not go half so badly as Charity expected. Her mother paced the floor of the parlor and railed at her for changing her mind from the numerous available peers that she had presented, to James Poppy to Michael Poppy and finally to The Earl of Wentwell. When Charity finally exasperated, said, “What do you want me to do, Mother? I can’t be you!”
“Oh Charity,” her mother replied. “I never wanted you to be me. Quite the contrary, I only wanted one thing for you, Charity. To be happy. That is all I have ever wanted for you.” She came to Charity and put a hand on her shoulder.
“You do not care about the rumors?” Charity said, looking at her mother, and sizing up her feelings.
“I do,” Her mother said grasping Charity’s shoulders. “I know how it feels to live your life surrounded by rumor, to fight your way through every event and know that even your closest friends are most likely close to you because they wish a scrap of gossip, not because they care about you.”
“My friends care about me,” Charity said.
“Good,” her mother said pacing away again. “I am glad, and I want you to have a husband who cares about you too. That is of the utmost importance.” She turned to face her daughter. “A woman alone in the world is a frightening prospect.”
“A husband that I love,” Charity urged.
“A husband that loves you,” Lady Shalace corrected. “It is more important that he loves you, than that you love him, and this is even more paramount now that your father is ill and cannot protect you.”
