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Perhaps it would be a test of sorts; Sir John would confess that his mother was French. If Lady Charlotte reacted favorably, he could then tell her the rest and make a clean slate of things. If she reacted badly, well then it would hardly matter. If she would refuse to marry a half-Frenchman he would no longer have to feel guilty for having bet upon her heart. The thought of how painful it would be to lose her struck him like a poisoned arrow burning through his soul, but he stubbornly pushed that thought aside. The lady loved him and just this once that would have to be enough.
* * *
17
The next day, Lady Charlotte sat stubbornly in the parlor, adamantly refusing to admit that she had a cold.
“One has only to look at you, my dear child, to see that you are unwell,” the dowager countess said serenely. “Your eyes are watering and you can scarcely stop sneezing.”
“I do not catch cold,” Charlotte insisted. “I have gone riding in all sorts of weather, all the time, and I never get so much as a sniffle. This is just...something else.”
“Usually when you are gallivanting out of doors during inclement weather you are properly attired in more than a thin muslin gown and a pair of delicate slippers,” Lord Keegain pointed out.
“I am perfectlyfine,” Charlotte replied stubbornly, stifling another sneeze by sheer force of will, and ignoring the amused looks her family exchanged. Sir John Ashbrooke was bound to call and Charlotte wouldnotbe bundled off to bed and miss his visit, no matter how wretched she might feel.
It was worth enduring a seemingly endless round of visitors and acquaintances, all of whom insisted on exclaiming, quite ungallantly, over how unwell she looked. When Sir John finally did arrive, her family considerately gave the pair a reasonable amount of space in which to speak more intimately. Although, Charlotte noticed that her brother hovered nearby and gave Sir John such a suspicious glance that Charlotte was certain Jane had told her husband about the kiss.
“Are you quite certain that you are well enough for a visit, Lady Charlotte?” Sir John asked solicitously. In her distracted state of mind, Charlotte could hardly keep the flushed color from her cheeks or stop the weary droop of her head, although she stubbornly straightened each time she realized she was in danger of slumping.
“Of course,” she replied in a slightly more patient tone than she had used in answering her family and previous callers. “I have a very hardy constitution; I shall have you know.” In truth her head was aching terribly, her nose was running, though she dare not dab at it, and she longed to lie down, but she would have died before admitting any such weakness.
“That is hardly surprising to me,” Sir John smiled. “And selfishly, I am very pleased to hear it. I wanted to speak to you today and I fear I might despair altogether if I were forced to wait.”
“Well, that would never do,” Charlotte murmured, clutching at her teacup for strength.Good Heavens, was the man about to propose? He had not yet spoken to her brother about marrying her, had he?Her head was spinning so fast that it was hard to think clearly.How would she get through a proposal while she had a cold?Notthat she had a cold, she mentally amended quickly. Besides, the event could not be considered romantic in any way while she was sniffling most unbecomingly.
As unkempt as she felt, the gentleman seemed in a similar state. “I do not think I have made a secret of my feelings for you, Lady Charlotte,” Sir John said, clearing his throat several times and wondering what exactly he ought to do with his hands at such a moment. He clenched them self-consciously in his lap. He thought, he would have been a great deal more at ease if he had been proposing marriage. As it was, his words came out in a rush of nervousness.
“Ah, at least, I hope I have not. Lady Charlotte. I find you to be fascinating, bewitching. I can speak to you as I have never been able to speak to another person in all my life. Often, I end up somehow telling you things I never meant to say at all, which is most uncharacteristic of me, if you must know. But before I can allow myself to hope that we may someday be together, I must very deliberately tell you something. Something that…well, I pray it will not change your feelings for me; if indeed I am not foolishly flattering myself to imagine that you have any feelings for me at all, but I cannot live with my conscience if I am not completely forthcoming.”
“Goodness,” managed Charlotte. This was not precisely what she had been expecting. The speech was interesting enough to have her forgetting her pounding head. She had never seen Sir John look so uncomfortable and she was not sure how to take the declaration. “I appreciate your honesty, Sir John, for it is a virtue that I prize above all others. You must know, whatever dreadful secret you are about to reveal, I shall do my very best to forgive it.”
“It is not entirely dreadful,” he said. “But it is something that I have very carefully and deliberately kept from my friends and acquaintances for a great deal of my life.” He took a breath, steeling himself. “My father, as I am sure you know, was a respectable English gentleman of an old and established family. He did not engage in society much, preferring his home and the countryside. He was a good and honorable man.”
“I am sure he was,” Charlotte agreed, seeing that Sir John seemed to be floundering for words once more.
“My mother is a good, honorable woman, as well, an heiress from an old and established family in their own right, although not titled.”
“And?” Charlotte interjected. So far his speech did not seem to be anything that he would not want known.
“The detail that I have seen fit to conceal; not just from yourself, but from everyone, for years, as a sort of personal rule…”
Charlotte shuffled. She bit her tongue to keep from telling Sir John to just say what he came to reveal, when at last, he got to the point.
“You see, my mother is a Frenchwoman,” Sir John blurted the last words out in a rush. His eyes were wide, as if anxious to see how Charlotte would react.
“Oh?” asked Charlotte, thinking he must have a great deal more sordid details to add to this rather uninteresting confession, but he was silent, apparently awaiting her reaction.
At last, he continued. “I understand, of course, if you do not care to associate with someone of French lineage during this time of war and strife. I was horribly tempted to keep it from you, as I have kept it from everyone else, but that would never do.”
“Do you mean to tell me that this is the entirety of your confession?” Charlotte laughed despite her stinging throat and Sir John looked askance. “I am sorry, Sir John, I assure you I do not mean to make light of your distress and I am quite glad that you did not try to deceive me, but why on earth would such a thing make any difference in how I feel about you?”
“It--it does not?” Ashbrooke nearly stuttered, so taken aback was he with her nonchalance. “You do not think I am bound to be some sort of spy or traitor? Would your family object to such ties?”
“Areyou a spy?” Charlotte teased.
“No. Of course, not,” he said firmly.
Charlotte sniffed delicately. “I must confess that would give me something of a thrill. I could persuade you to turn your back on your clandestine efforts and I might be hailed as a heroine throughout England. It would be lovely. Don’t you think?”
