There was more he could offer her, and she wanted desperately for him to offer it, but engaging in such practices with a man she was not to marry felt wrong. And being with him here in a house she was never to own, deceiving everyone, was more than she was certain she could bear without consequence.
And the consequence might just be the tranquility of her heart.
* * *
As Aaron had anticipated, there was no sign of Constance anywhere in the house. He both made a search himself and questioned the servants; nothing provided any clue as to her whereabouts.
“You must not fret,” his aunt Octavia said as he paced the drawing room impatiently. Charlotte sat beside her mother, ostensibly discussing a passage of a book they were both reading but occasionally glancing in his direction. “You did not expect her to be in the house.”
“I did not expect it,” he said, “but I had rather hoped I would find it to be so.”
“Investigate in the village tomorrow,” she said, holding out a hand, “and you will find all will be well.”
“I hope to find her in Mrs. Brookes’ care. Failing that, for someone to have some idea of where she could have gone.”
“Is the village on the Great North Road?” Charlotte asked.
He turned his body slightly to her. “Yes.”
“Then even if she merely passed through, there may be some signs of her. You must not give up hope.”
“I will find her,” he vowed, “if it is the last thing I do.”
His aunt sighed. “A worthy statement indeed, but you are casting a pall over the evening. Consider that tomorrow you will ride out in search of her and discover everything is well, and you have no need to worry.”
He threw himself into a seat. “My apologies,” he said curtly. “It appears my concern for my sister has interfered with your enjoyment of the evening.”
“Not at all,” Lady Lowood assured him with a smile. “We understand your concern. Don’t we, Charlotte?”
Charlotte’s gaze slid to him. “Indeed, we do.” Charlotte had been giving him the same look all evening as though he had done something to offend her sensibilities—or perhaps that she was waiting for him to do so.
“A game, perhaps,” his aunt said, ever the gracious hostess. Forced to capitulate, Aaron joined their game of whist, all the while thinking of his sister. Not even Charlotte could pull him out of it however pleasing she looked as she pursed her lips over her cards.
Eventually it was time to retire, and they all rose. Usually Aaron might have been tempted to take a drink in his study, but tonight he intended to have an early night, so he might rise early and search for Constance.
“Come, Anastasia,” his aunt said pointedly, throwing them a sharp look and offering Lady Lowood her arm. “Let me show you where you are to sleep.”
Her motives could hardly have been plainer: that he should spend more time with Charlotte. No doubt to woo her though wooing was as far from his mind as it was possible to get.
Yes, he wanted to push her up against the wall and kiss her again, but that was not born of a desire to woo her; that was born of a desire to distract himself from the gnawing worry that threatened to consume him.
“Your concern over your sister does you credit,” Charlotte said as she accepted his arm. “If you are to go to the village tomorrow, I should like to come.”
“I intend to rise early.”
She fixed him with a cool stare. “I hardly see why that should deter me.”
“Very well.” He softened his voice which had strayed toward curt. “I shall be glad of your company then, Charlotte.”
“I’m glad, for I do not offer it lightly.” When they reached the stairs, he paused, and she accepted the small oil lamp handed to her by a servant. “I am not here for the pleasure of your company,” she said with what would have been devastating honesty if he had invited her for that precise purpose. “Please do not concern yourself with your hosting prowess.”
“I suspect my aunt worries about that more than I do.” He took her hand and guided it to his lips. A rather pleasing blush spread across her face. “I shall see you tomorrow, Charlotte.”
“And we shall see what tomorrow shall bring,” she murmured back. He couldn’t be certain if that was a threat or a promise, but something in him stirred at her words and the sight of her walking upstairs to her rooms.
The Devil take him, he needed a cold bath. Divesting himself of her charms would not solve the issue of his missing sister, and she deserved better than a Duke taking advantage of her when they had both agreed this situation was one of convenience rather than affection.
Still, he contemplated the sway of her hips, barely noticeable under her dress, and the way the light shone on her glossy hair. Allowing himself to become fond of her might be easier than he had imagined—and perhaps had even already begun.
