Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

S tunned, Charlotte glared at her brother, ready to tell him she loved her husband. But when she gazed askance at Simon, she withheld her words. He appeared as ghastly as the day they'd been forced into the untenable situation.

Oh, for her it was no longer untenable. But for Simon, her brother's words had struck home. Simon didn't want to be married to her, and he certainly didn't want her love. He'd made that perfectly clear. Only his optimistic nature had allowed him to make the best of the situation.

No, if she professed her feelings in front of Roland, Simon would either brush her words off as lies to dissuade her brother or, worse, consider them an abomination he wanted no part of.

And she couldn't abide being rejected—again.

For once in her life, she held her tongue.

And it was torture.

"Sister," Roland continued, his sugary sweet voice no doubt taking aim at a chink in her armor. "Come home and let us quell the gossiping tongues and put an end to this unfortunate incident. I vow to you, I will not force your hand into a marriage you do not freely choose."

Well, that was a surprise. She narrowed her eyes, doing her damnedest to discern his motive, which was most likely self-serving and vile.

"I'm already married."

"And as I said, I have the power to see it annulled."

"Charlotte." Simon's gentle voice caressed her skin, and, unlike Roland's, rang with sincerity. "May I have a word?"

When she nodded, he grasped her elbow, his touch as gentle as his words, and pulled her aside. Pain radiated across his face.

"Are you becoming ill again?" Her voice edged upward in the register as fear gripped her.

"What? No." He flicked his gaze away, took a breath, then met hers directly. "I release you from our marriage. Accept your brother's offer of an annulment, and free yourself from something you never wanted."

But she didn't wish to be free. Not now. She swallowed her pride. "What do you want?"

"I want you to be happy."

She wished the same for him. Perhaps releasing him was for the best. "Then we are of like minds." Hope, a tenuous thing at best, glimmered in the distance, and she grasped at it like a lifeline. "What if I'm..."

"Pregnant?" Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips together, and sucked in an audible breath. "Have you missed your courses?"

"Not yet."

"Then hopefully we'll know soon. But if you are, an annulment is out of the question. Not only would it prove we consummated the marriage, but I will not allow even a whiff of illegitimacy to taint our child's life. However, you can either return to your brother or remain here at the cottage without me. I only ask to be part of my child's life." A wan smile crossed his lips but didn't sparkle in his eyes. "And if it's a son, you will have fulfilled your promise to me, more than I have to you."

Other than a sharp tingling in her fingertips, Charlotte's entire body felt numb. How had things changed so quickly? Her cold heart, asleep for so long, had finally been resurrected, and—with a few words—it retreated to safety in its deathly slumber. She should have known better; should have trusted her instincts.

Normally able to make quick decisions, Charlotte needed time to sort through the quagmire of thoughts meandering around in her skull. She strode back to her brother with Simon on her heels.

"Give me time to consider your proposition—alone, if you please." That last word stuck in her throat like an overcooked piece of mutton. But she uttered it more for Simon than Roland.

"Of course," her husband answered. "My lord ." He gestured toward the assembly hall. "After you."

"I expect an answer before the evening is out." With his nose in the air, Roland pushed past Simon and tromped toward the building.

"Take as long as you need," Simon whispered, then followed her brother inside.

Sweet birdsong from a nightingale drifted on the hyacinth-scented breeze, more beautiful than the strands of music from the simple country orchestra. Should she free Simon from their marriage? Could she trust Roland to keep his promise?

She rested a hand on her abdomen. What if she was already with child? She had no doubt Simon would love the child, regardless of its sex. What would entail him being part of the child's life? Would that include her, or would he insist she make herself scarce during his visits? Worse, would he insist the child live with him?

An odd ache filled the void in her chest at the thought. She'd never wanted children, or so she'd thought. Not like Honoria. But with the real possibility before her, she questioned her belief .

Because a child would be part of Simon—and her. Their child. Goodness, what would that combination be? A smile tugged at her lips.

And like the sun breaking through thunderclouds, scattering a threatening storm, and saying, Not today , the answer came to her.

She would march back inside and tell Simon that she loved him. Let him rail and complain all he wished about not wanting a woman to love him. He would have to accept it and live with it. And Roland could go back home—or better yet, to the devil.

Neither her brother nor her husband would bully her out of the one good thing in her life. And if Simon couldn't love her back, so be it. She wasn't a greedy woman. He would love their child, and that would be enough for her.

Shoulders squared, head held high, she prepared for battle. But before she could turn to go back inside the assembly hall, footsteps sounded behind her, and a hand clamped over her mouth. The cold tip of a blade pricked against her neck, and hot breath brushed against her cheek.

"Scream and I'll cut your pretty throat. It's not you I want. It's your husband."

Simon's stomach roiled as the heat from the assembly room pressed in on him. Damn! Surely, it was too soon for another malaria attack? He bit back a laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Leave it to him to refuse to do anything by halves. Much like his wife.

The bleak truth surrounded him, phantom hands clutching and dragging him under. Was he to lose everything in one cruel twist?

Perhaps this whole mess had a bright side. He couldn't ache for Charlotte if he was dead. The harsh laugh burst from his lips.

"What amuses you, son?" Rather than curiosity from her question, concern shone on his mother's face. "And where is Charlotte? Didn't she find you?"

"She did."

"Well?" The impatience in his mother's voice reminded him of when he was a boy and she stood, hands on hips, waiting for an explanation for his latest mischief. "Did you tell her?"

Ah. "Not yet. If you haven't noticed, we've received a visitor who's put a pall over things." He jerked his chin in the direction of the pompous arse Edgerton.

The man stood off by himself, a handkerchief pressed to his nose and his dark eyes drilling holes into Simon.

"I presumed Charlotte invited him. She had your father post a letter for her the other day."

She did?

"Why didn't she ask me?" And why did it bother him that Charlotte wouldn't come to him for such a minor task? Oh, right. Trust. "You didn't see the recipient's name?" From Charlotte's reaction to Edgerton's arrival, the letter did not contain an invitation to her brother, but Simon was in no rush to tell his mother that his marriage was about to fall apart.

"No. Shall we ask your father?"

Simon shook his head. "I'll ask Charlotte later."

Regardless of who Charlotte wrote to or the reason, why was he allowing Edgerton to slither his way between him and Charlotte? Wasn't their marriage worth fighting for? Oh, he would still give her a choice, but she needed all the facts before deciding.

Hadn't he badgered Drake to do the same thing the year before? And the longer Drake waited, the more obstacles rose in their path.

Time to take his own advice. He needed to tell his wife he loved her.

Even if Charlotte rejected his love and chose to live without him, at least he would have tried .

What was taking Charlotte so long?

Unable to wait any longer, Simon made his excuses to his mother and threaded his way through the crowded assembly room. People stopped him, offering their felicitations on his marriage and expressing their admiration of Charlotte. As Simon nodded his thanks, the hair on the back of his neck rose to attention, remembering not everyone wished him and Charlotte well. Where is Albie Mooney? And for that matter, where were Samuel and Hester?

Icy panic trickled up Simon's spine.

Standing near the door, Edgerton eyed him suspiciously. "Where are you off to?"

Ignoring him, Simon had almost made a clean escape when Hester rushed toward him from the entrance. "Simon. Come quickly."

As if she had burned him, Simon jerked away from where her hand clutched his arm. "No. I'm going to find my wife and tell her what I should have told her weeks ago."

The sinister smile creeping across Hester's lips chilled him through. "Then you best hurry while she's still alive to tell her whatever's so important."

What?! No longer caring about what Hester might think, he grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. "What are you talking about?"

"The longer you wait here, the less time you'll have with your precious bride."

"What's going on here?" Edgerton demanded.

"I don't know." Simon's voice sounded frantic to his own ears. "But I think Charlotte is in danger."

Edgerton's eyes flared. Perhaps the man did care, or perhaps he only wanted to avoid another mention in The Muckraker. "Then why are you wasting time with this trollop?"

Simon rushed out the door as Hester's voice boomed behind him. "Watch who you're calling a trollop! "

Footsteps pounded behind him as Simon raced outside, searching wildly for any sign of Charlotte.

"Where is she?" Edgerton panted behind him.

"Over there!"

Simon turned at Hester's words, his gaze straining in the direction she pointed.

Bile rose in his throat as his earlier nausea returned.

"Samuel. For God's sake, release my wife!" Simon's gaze locked on the knife point against Charlotte's throat.

"Don't come closer, or I'll slit her throat right now."

Simon skidded to a halt, Edgerton right behind him. Hester sauntered up to Samuel and Charlotte as if she had nothing better to do.

"You're party to this?" Simon croaked out the question, struggling to believe the tableau before him. "Why?"

"Because I don't believe you'll do what Samuel wants," Hester said.

None of it made any sense. "What do you want, Samuel?"

"I want you to feel the pain I did when you killed my daughter."

"What's this?" Edgerton said, taking a step closer.

"You stay back, too!" Samuel pressed the knife into Charlotte's flesh.

Simon's eyes locked with hers, registering the flinch of pain as a dark spot bloomed on her skin. "Please don't hurt her."

"Did you kill his daughter, Beckham? Perhaps an annulment is too good for you. I'll see you hang instead." Edgerton's threat bounced off Simon.

"Annulment?" Hester said, looking hopeful. The woman was daft. As if he'd ever consider taking up with her again. No other woman could take Charlotte's place.

Like being trapped in a tunnel, everything other than Charlotte faded from Simon's mind .

Fire blazed in Charlotte's eyes. "Samuel, you, sir, are a nodcock!"

Oh, God, he loved her spirit, but she would get herself killed if she antagonized Samuel any further.

However, Charlotte's declaration startled Samuel, and he lowered the knife a fraction.

Simon didn't know how Charlotte kept her voice passionless and calm. "Although you make the most delicious plum tarts, and I truly hope to enjoy them again if I'm not dead, you are wasting your time. Kill me and you cause my husband no pain. Goodness, he more than likely will be relieved to have been freed from the burden of my presence. He might even thank you—before you swing from a rope, that is. My brother is the Marquess of Edgerton"—she gave an infinitesimal nod toward Edgerton—"and he enjoys watching people hanged. And Miss Pace will no doubt worm her way back into Simon's arms as she did after your dear daughter died."

The knifepoint pricked Charlotte's throat again, and Simon drew in a breath. He wanted nothing more than to be able to communicate with his wife the silent way Drake and Honoria did. Too far, Charlotte. But there was something buried in her message directed only to him. If his mind weren't in such a tangle, with time, he'd puzzle it out.

His face contorted like a mad man, Samuel sneered and pressed the knife into Charlotte's skin again. A drop of blood trickled down her throat. "You know nothing about my daughter's death. The bastard killed her as sure as if he pushed her into the river himself."

Charlotte flinched but continued her attempt to dissuade the man. "And my husband loved Joy and grieves her death just as greatly as you. Don't you think he's punished himself enough all these years? It's why he vows never to love or be loved again. He told me himself. My husband doesn't love me, and in fact has released me from our marriage to return to my brother. You would gain nothing by killing me, Samuel."

Simon felt all eyes on him. From the smug look on Edgerton's face, he no doubt believed he'd won the battle to take Charlotte away. Bastard . Why wasn't he more concerned about his sister's life? Hester appeared even more hopeful than when Edgerton had mentioned the annulment. But Samuel—Samuel seemed unsure.

With his arm still wrapped around Charlotte's waist, Samuel lowered the blade. "Is that true, Beckham? You don't love her and are planning on ending your marriage?"

For once, Simon weighed each word, examining every argument and possibility in order to speak as truthfully as possible but appease Samuel and end his misguided vendetta. Simon recalled Charlotte's carefully crafted reply to the vicar during their meeting to obtain a special license. Clever, truthful, but with hidden meaning directed only toward him.

He took a breath, preparing himself for the most important argument in his life. "My marriage to Lady Charlotte was not a love match. An ill-timed and unfortunate discovery of impropriety forced us into the union."

Edgerton snorted.

Simon ignored him. "Neither of us loved one another. In fact, it's fair to say we barely tolerated each other. It's also true the marquess has offered to arrange an annulment, and I have offered to release Lady Charlotte from her promise to me—should she wish it." At the last, Simon locked his gaze with Charlotte's, willing that magical connection of his friends to make her see the truth.

"My wife is not one to be controlled by anyone. She makes her own decisions. You will derive more satisfaction by allowing her to live, because I suspect she will decide to stay married and vex me for the remainder of my days." And although it pained him to do so, he forced the grin his wanton wife had deemed ridiculous.

A strange glimmer appeared in Charlotte's eyes, perhaps a trick of the moonlight, for her voice remained steady. "The only one to lose in this situation is you, Samuel." She sighed, the exasperated one she exhaled when bored. "And me, for I shall sorely miss your plum tarts."

"Drop the knife, Samuel." Palms out, Simon held up his hands and took one tentative step forward, pleased when Samuel didn't raise the blade again. "Let's walk away and end this."

Relief flooded him when Samuel dropped the knife to the ground. Simon raced up and kicked it aside. He wanted nothing more than to pull Charlotte into his arms and cover her with kisses. But at the moment, they needed to continue the farce. "Go home, Samuel. Promise to leave my wife alone, and we'll speak no more about this incident." As much as he wanted to call for the town constable, Simon had pity on the man who, had circumstances been different, might have been his father by marriage.

"You're not going to allow him to walk free!" Edgerton boomed.

As Simon turned, prepared to tell Edgerton to take his pompous arse elsewhere, a rush of footsteps sounded behind him.

And his heart rose to his throat again as Albie Mooney appeared from nowhere, snatched up the knife, and lunged toward Charlotte.