“If she is to be your future wife, I would argue it is every bit my concern if you ruin her reputation—and the reputation of this family.”
“And who, pray, is to know what behavior we engaged in?” he asked icily. “Are you intending on informing thetonof your suspicions?”
“I merely don’t want the child, or you, to be hurt.”
“Lady Charlotte is not a child, and neither am I. Your concern is flattering, but you should have chosen worthier recipients. Lady Charlotte is an admirable lady, but my heart remains untouched, and so does hers.”
“You are not planning on marrying her?”
“My plans are my own,” he said, drawing himself as tall as he could go—a not inconsiderable height. “But you may be assured that Lady Charlotte is party to my decisions and a willing participant.”
Octavia’s hard gaze never left his. “I might venture to say that whatever you may know of the world, Lady Charlotte does not. If you have bullied her into an arrangement that—”
“If anything,” he said, a grim smile playing around his mouth, “it is she who has bullied me. You may be certain I could never persuade Lady Charlotte into a course of action of which she does not approve.” He tried not to think of the way he had kissed her, and the things that had happened thereafter. He would have been a fool not to think she wanted it as much as he, or almost as much, but that did not change the fact that he initiated, and she merely allowed him to have his way with her. Or at least, as much of his way as he would permit himself.
And she, innocent as she was, thought that might have been all there was to intimacy. Its significance had not escaped him; she had offered herself to him believing their actions to be those she no doubt had intended to save for her future husband.
The thought made him hot and uncomfortable, and he pulled at his collar. “If that is all you have to say, Aunt, I wish we may drop the subject.”
“Do not hurt her,” Octavia warned as he left the room. “You may think her impervious to your charms, but she is merely female.”
And I merely male. He did not deign to reply as he strode from the room, choosing to visit his study rather than rejoin the group in the drawing room. The less he saw of Charlotte while what they had done was still at the forefront of his mind, the better. He would not want to betray himself or her, and he feared if he allowed himself to get too close, he would be unable to help himself.
Curse the girl for eliminating his self-control with such efficiency. And curse him for giving into her the way he did.
* * *
The next morning, the party departed for Scotland in two carriages. This time, however, Charlotte found herself in the carriage with her mother, and Aaron’s aunt shared his with him. Charlotte couldn’t be certain who had arranged this, but she suspected her mother had something to do with it after their conversation the other day.
Guilt curled around Charlotte’s stomach. Her mother would be incredibly disappointed when the engagement inevitably broke down, and Charlotte would hardly be less so. Aaron had proven himself to be a man she could both respect and feel something for. She wouldn’t call it love—not yet, not when they had yet to express anything more than passing admiration for each other—butsomething.
“It will be a relief when we finally find this sister of his,” Anastasia commented faintly, languishing in her seat with the air of a woman seconds away from taking her last breath. “All this traveling around is deeply uncomfortable, and I wish we could start planning a wedding. I have such plans for you, my dear, and such ideas for a wedding dress.”
“Mama, you must not speak so.”
“Why, when you are engaged?” Her mother speared her with a weak but sharp gaze. “Is there a reason a wedding should not go ahead?”
None, except we have decided that for ourselves.
“His sister is not yet found,” Charlotte settled for saying. “And we hardly know the state she will be in when we do find her. Aaron is far too consumed with finding her to think about anything else.”
“I hardly anticipate finding her worse for wear, except for being married.”
Charlotte bit back a shudder. “And if she is found to be married to a man Aaron cannot countenance? A man who may be cruel to her?”
“I know little of Constance, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of impetuous girl to flee and marry a man so very unsuitable.”
“If he were not unsuitable, surely she’d have told her brother?”
“Depend on it, my dear—as soon as His Grace arranged another marriage for her, she felt she could not escape it and fled.”
In her bones, Charlotte felt this to be right, but her mother’s matter-of-fact tone made her way to fight against the conclusion. Aaron had shown himself to be remarkably intent on saving Constance from his idea of a bad marriage, and Charlotte herself had mentioned the possibility of this chasing Constance away.
Still, he had proven himself to be so kind and generous with his time, attention, and fortune; she hardly knew how she could believe he was truly so callous.
“Depend on it, my dear,” Anastasia said with certainty born from ignorance. “Once Constance is found and settled—as I’m sure she already is—the Duke will want to do everything he can to avert talk of a scandal, and what better way than to marry you?”
Charlotte could think of many better ways—the match, as far as it pertained Aaron, was hardly an auspicious one, and moreover, it was not favored by her cousin, the Earl. Their marriage on top of Constance’s runaway marriage would hardly smooth over the scandal.
