Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
B etween his family and Aunt Kitty, Simon hardly had time to think about what had happened—or not happened—between him and Charlotte the night before, and the day sped by faster than a race through Hyde Park in his phaeton.
Aunt Kitty monopolized her namesake much of the time, barely allowing his mother or sisters an opportunity to hold the darling child. Oddly, each time someone offered Charlotte an opportunity to hold the infant, she lifted her hand and waved them off, saying, "I feel a sniffle coming on," or "She looks so peaceful; let's not disturb her."
Yet, when she was preoccupied and unaware of observation, he stole glances at her, catching how her eyes filled with a sad longing. He took a seat next to her on the settee.
"It's an excuse," he whispered.
She stiffened next to him, sending him the all-too-familiar glare. "I beg your pardon!" The exclamation was muffled and overshadowed by Kitty's cries.
"You're nervous about holding her."
She huffed and turned away. "That's ridiculous. "
"Practice. That's all you need."
"Hmph!"
"But if you're too afraid of trying . . ."
Aha! That did it.
"I'm not afraid. I simply don't want to disturb her."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "She's wailing her head off from the way Georgie is jerking her about. Allow me to rescue the child and show you how to quiet her."
After removing Kitty from Georgie's inexperienced arms, he soothed her just enough to quiet her wails to sobs. Then he gave her to Charlotte, positioning her securely. "Cradle her head in the crook of your elbow. There. That's it. Now, place your other hand here." He moved Charlotte's other arm under the baby's back. "Support her and give her back gentle pats. That's it. Now, the most important part. Relax and smile at her. Don't frown at her like she's me."
Charlotte actually laughed, and Kitty ceased mid-sob, gazing up into Charlotte's face with the wonder only a baby can manage.
Or so he thought until Charlotte's face brightened with the same expression. "I did it!"
"You did." Not quite painful, but still disconcerting, the twinge in his chest took him off guard. He did what he always did. He deflected. "Thanks to me."
"Hmph! Your head is already inflated. Isn't it, Kitty?" Kitty stirred, her rosebud mouth puckering and preparing for another onset of objection.
Simon prepared to pluck the child from Charlotte's arms, but Charlotte quickly soothed Kitty back into submission.
Well, I'll be damned.
"Don't mind him, little one. He's very full of himself, and we ladies cannot let him get the best of us."
Seeing Charlotte's confidence with Kitty grow diminished the insult she'd flung his way. But Simon also paid heed to her words. They were no surprise, but if he could still his mind long enough, he would ponder them later. Perhaps they provided a clue to wooing her.
When the nanny stepped in and removed the baby, she clucked her tongue over the fact that it wasn't good for a newborn to be held so much.
Simon rather thought holding an infant was the best possible thing for them, ensuring they felt loved and secure. However, he conceded that too many hands on the child might not be the best.
With the lure of cuddling an infant gone, and after Aunt Kitty departed, Simon instructed the servants to pack his family's trunks first, then his and Charlotte's.
Three hours later, his mother squished his face in her hands as she bade him a tearful goodbye.
"We should be less than a day behind you. You act like I'm enlisting in the military again."
"You're too old for that," Kate said. "Your decrepit bones couldn't handle it."
Next to him, Charlotte uttered a laugh before his father engulfed her in a hug. "I'm overjoyed you're part of our family, Lady Charlotte. Keep this rapscallion in line!"
"I shall make it my life's mission," his wife answered, no doubt planning multiple ways to vex him.
"Maybe we can hold a ball in Swindon's assembly hall in your honor," Beth said.
Frannie rolled her eyes.
"If they can pull themselves away from each other," Rebecca said.
"Promise you'll let me take you around the estate?" Georgie asked.
"I . . . promise," Charlotte answered.
Curious . Why did she hesitate?
As the carriage drove off, disappearing in the busy streets of Mayfair, he said, "If you don't want Georgie to show you around, I'll make your excuses."
"It's not that. Exploring your family's estate will occupy my mind while you're out murdering animals and torturing the fish."
He laughed. "You do have a way with words." He studied her. "I'd like for us not to keep secrets from one another. We may not have what Drake and Honoria do, but it could at least be a civil marriage. Why did you hesitate to promise?"
"It made me think of a promise I made to Honoria."
"Oh?" He waited a moment.
"To give you a chance." Without further explanation, she left, leaving him enveloped in lilac and a flicker of hope.
Unlike the day before, Simon stayed at home, spending the time instructing the staff and imploring them to handle as much as possible without bothering Drake. "Don't plague His Grace with questions," he said to the footmen gathered. "Frampton is your first line of defense."
Frampton puffed out his chest. "No need to worry, Mr. Beckham. We will all do our best to ensure His Grace gets rest and is not troubled with unnecessary details in your absence."
With that task complete, he watched the clock in the drawing room for a solid twenty-three minutes while Charlotte read her book. The prospect of being confined in a carriage for long hours pressed down like a great weight. He needed to do something. He pulled back the curtain and peeked out the window.
Twilight approached, and the air would soon chill. "Would you care to go for a short stroll?"
"No." She waved a hand at him as if shooing away a pesky insect. "You go."
And she called him incorrigible. "And risk your ire if I leave you again? No, thank you." He plopped back down in the chair, exhaling an exaggerated, "Oomph."
She slammed the book on the table next to her. "If you're going to behave like a spoiled child and make irritating noises, I capitulate."
He wanted to kiss her in gratitude, but he feared a repeat of the night before. He must take things slowly.
At the front door, Frampton held out Charlotte's pelisse, but Simon snatched it from the butler's hands and held it open to her. "Allow me." He had the audacity to flash that ridiculous grin at her.
Her knees might have weakened—if she believed he could evoke such a response. More likely, it was simply her joints adjusting. She slipped her arms through, and the heat of his hands pressed against her shoulders as he smoothed the material over them.
"Wouldn't want you to catch a chill before our trip." Wisps of his breath, hot and soft, brushed against her cheek as he leaned in.
When he held out his arm to lead her through the door, she ignored him, stepping outside into the dimming light and hoping to complete the walk quickly. Until Honoria's request demanded her attention.
Give him a chance.
Gah!
Simon stepped outside beside her.
"Very well," she said with as much annoyance as she could muster.
He blinked. "Very well, what?"
Damn the man. Did he have to draw her attention to his incredible blue eyes?
"I'll take your stupid arm."
He laughed—the fool. "I'll have you know my arm has been known to make very wise decisions." With the ridiculous smile plastered on his face, he stared straight ahead, yet he held out his arm.
When she slid her gloved hand over it, it felt—right, as if it had been waiting specifically for her.
Absurd. How could an arm be waiting for a hand? The recent weeks spent in his presence had turned her mind into mush. Yet, she couldn't help but notice the firm muscle beneath the material of his superfine coat. Muscle she had observed first-hand. And more than just his arms. Her face burned at the memory of his naked form.
He slid a sideways glance toward her. "Perhaps the pelisse is too much. It is still rather warm for this time of day."
"I'm fine."
They strolled in silence the short distance to the park. Other than the modiste and their meeting with the vicar, Charlotte had not dealt with the aftermath of the scandal in The Muckraker . But as people passed, she couldn't help but notice how many gave them the cut—indirect, granted, acting as if they had not seen her, but a cut nonetheless.
Oblivious to the insult, Simon tipped his hat to each one of the judgmental churls, greeting them with a cheery, "Good evening!" Or, "Fine evening for a stroll, wouldn't you say?"
"How can you be so pleasant to these . . . these . . ." Even through gritted teeth, she couldn't say the word.
"Arses? You can say it to me. I won't be offended, especially when it's the truth."
Her mouth fell open.
"Close your mouth, darling, here comes another group of them. As to your question. Let them think their rudeness doesn't bother us in the least. Don't give them the satisfaction. ‘Kill them with kindness' has worked well for me." He lay his free hand on top of hers and gave a gentle squeeze. "Go ahead, try it."
As Lord and Lady Cheswick approached, Charlotte forced a smile to her lips .
Simon leaned in, caressing her again with his warm breath. "Try to appear natural, not like you're going to eat them."
Odd, but the idea made her laugh, genuine and full-throated.
Lady Cheswick turned up her nose and tugged on her husband's arm, giving Charlotte and Simon a wide berth as if they had some horrible disease. "Some people have no sense of shame." Although muttered, Lady Cheswick's words were clear enough.
"How good to see you, Lord Cheswick." She nodded at them as they gawked, aghast. "Lady Cheswick, are you quite well? You appear a little green. Or perhaps it is the unfortunate color of your gown." She shook her head, delivering a little tsk, tsk, and then forced the smile back, this time hoping it appeared as Simon had described.
Lady Cheswick tugged on her husband's arm, muttering, "The nerve!"
Safely past them, Simon threw his head back and laughed. "Well done! How did it feel?"
"Marvelous. Like I'm myself again."
"I must say, it's good to have your sharp tongue directed at someone other than me." When their gazes tangled, heat burned in his eyes, as if something naughty had crossed his mind. He coughed and turned away.
With her new approach, the stroll became enjoyable as each of them took turns in confronting each challenger with courage and wit.
Puddles remained from the previous day's rain, most easy to avoid. But as they returned home by an alternate route, a muddy patch of water pooled in a dip in the path, obstructing their progress.
Simon removed her hand from his arm. "Wait here a moment." He stepped forward, placing his booted foot into the puddle. Water rose past his ankle. "Damn." He turned toward her. "Don't suppose you have boots on? "
"No." The whole idea had been so impromptu she hadn't even thought to put on her half boots. Even if she lifted her skirts, her slippers would get soaked.
Returning to her, he said, "Put your arms around my neck."
She stepped back as if pushed. "Wh—what?"
He huffed. "Never mind." Instead of turning away, he moved forward, scooping her up and lifting her off the ground.
Instinctively, her arms went around his neck to anchor herself. "You're mad!"
He traversed the puddle in three long strides, splashing water in his wake. "Kept you dry, didn't I? Isn't that a husband's job? To protect his wife."
Charlotte gritted her teeth. "Put me down this instant!"
"Capital idea, Mr. Beckham!" a voice called from behind.
Simon turned, still holding her in his arms.
Laurence and Beatrix Townsend approached, and imitating Simon, Laurence swung his wife up and carried her across the puddle.
"Down!" Charlotte demanded again.
Simon finally lowered her to the ground.
Beatrix, on the other hand, seemed delighted to be manhandled in such a fashion. However, one must consider the source. Beatrix had always been a strange woman. In fact, she rewarded her husband with a kiss on the cheek when he placed her back on her feet on the dry side of the puddle. "Don't we have the most gallant of husbands, Lady Charlotte?"
Gallant? Is that what Simon's action was meant to be? She stole a peek at her husband.
He certainly seemed pleased with himself, as did Lord Montgomery.
Lord Montgomery held out his hand to Simon. "Good to see you again so soon. I trust all is well?" Laurence's eyes shifted toward Charlotte.
"Quite well, sir. "
"Good. Smart of you to make a public appearance and silence those wagging tongues. Bea and I have our own experience in that regard."
Beatrix narrowed her sharp eyes on Charlotte. "To be clear, Lady Charlotte, I give little credence to what's published in that rag—and neither should you. Someone should stop that abomination posing as news."
Charlotte reconsidered the bookish redhead. With her intelligence, she might prove to be a valuable ally. When she and Simon returned from their wedding trip, Charlotte would speak to Honoria about inviting Lady Montgomery into the League.
"If you are in contact with your brother Lord Nash, please tell him how much I am enjoying the Broadwood. I hope he was able to purchase another piano in America. I never told him, but he is quite talented."
Charlotte blinked at the kindness. "I will, Lady Montgomery. Nash will be pleased his cherished instrument is in such capable hands."
Laurence tipped his hat. "Well, we should be off. I'm anxious to get Bea home. In fact . . ." He swooped her up again, eliciting a squeal from his wife, and raced off, carrying her.
Charlotte shook her head. "They are a strange couple."
Simon nodded, his eyes growing distant as he watched them. "And in love." He shook his head as if to clear it. "What was that about a Broadwood?"
"When my brother left for America, he sold his piano to Lord Montgomery, who planned to give it to his wife for their anniversary."
"She does play prodigiously well. As I understand from my mother, so do you."
"Not as well as Lady Montgomery or my brother Nash. Both make the keys come to life."
"Unlike Georgie, who makes them cry in pain?"
She laughed again. A momentous day. Reluctantly, she admitted she could get used to her husband's sense of humor. Goodness, she was growing soft.
When he held out his arm again, she took it immediately. The sun had set fully, and men climbed ladders, lighting the last of the gas lamps along Grosvenor Square.
A sense of peace enveloped her in the quiet stillness of the evening, and Simon's arm, firm and strong beneath her hand, seemed right and true.
"Charlotte," Simon said, shaking her from her sentimental reverie.
She jerked toward him. "Hmm?"
His smile was gentle, void of any teasing at her distractedness. "Do we have a chance?"
Blink.
"What?"
Unusual seriousness painted his face. "You said you promised Honoria to give me a chance. I simply want to know if you believe you can. I'm not asking for love; I'm not that na?ve. Can you tolerate me enough to not shrink from my touch?"
She shook her head and huffed a sigh. "I'm touching you now, aren't I?"
"You know what I mean. Are we going to discuss last night?"
No. "You took me by surprise. Give me fair warning if you're going to manhandle me again."
"Are you speaking of last night or the puddle?"
"Both."
A lopsided grin lifted his mouth at one corner. "I did ask you to put your arms around my neck. Not warning enough?"
Pressing her lips together, she almost bit her tongue to keep from railing at him. She did promise Honoria. "You promised not to force me. Last night . . ."
"My playfulness frightened you, and I'm sorry."
Playfulness . Is that what he called it?
"But I can't help but wonder." He looked away for a moment, and when he turned back, he was all seriousness. "Did Davies do more than strike you?"
The words knotted in her throat. "He tried. Once. I would prefer not to speak of it."
Still solemn, he nodded. "I'll keep my hands to myself until you're ready."
Thank goodness they were almost back at the house, and Simon remained quiet the rest of the way. But as she played the scene back in her mind, she understood how she may have misinterpreted his actions.
Simon wasn't Felix. And truth be told, she might actually enjoy her husband's touch.