Chapter 4

Charlotte had the strangest experience of her life. Looking up into the handsome, though normally quite dour, face of the Marquess who stared down at her in a manner that seemed quite intimate—she had the strangest fluttering sensation in her stomach. And her heart began to race. Not alarmingly, at all. But thrillingly. And she was so struck by how handsome he was, and by how much she desperately wanted to believe he was truly flirting with her and not simply taking pity on her, that she stumbled on her next step, nearly losing her footing.

At the last moment, when she expected only to feel her bones being jarred by the hard ground, it was the comforting sensation of strong arms closing about her that she experienced. And when she opened her eyes, she found herself staring up at the Marquess. At Ethan. He was staring down at her, as well, their faces scant inches apart.

For the longest moment, she simply stared up at him. Noting for the first time how impossibly blue his eyes were. And then, with no small degree of embarrassment, she recognized that she had remained in his embrace for far longer than was seemly. “Oh. I have been terribly clumsy.”

He helped her to her feet and, with what appeared to be reluctance, allowed his arms to fall to his side. But he did not back away. He stood, according to every lesson in deportment she’d ever had drilled into her, very close to her. Too close to her. Tellingly, she was quite reluctant to step back from him. More than reluctant, in truth. Entirely unwilling! At their present distance, she could make out details of him that she was certain no one else knew. Like the small scar beneath his chin, or the fact that his blue eyes weren’t just blue—only mostly blue. There were, in fact, flecks of green and gold hidden in their depths and they mesmerized her.

“Miss—Charlotte,” he said, “You need not apologize.” The words came out stiffly, as if he were terribly uncomfortable with what had occurred. “A man likes to play the hero.”

Ducking her head, not only out of embarrassment but because she was terribly afraid she would do something wildly improper if she continued to look at him, Charlotte replied, “I shall endeavor to keep that in mind… Ethan. I would certainly never want to be responsible for denying a gentleman his avocation.”

There was silence then, stretching between them in a way that should have felt uncomfortable. But it didn’t. Instead, it made it her feel as if they were the only people in existence. Even the sounds of other party guests in the distance were muted by the hum of connection that built between them.

He cocked his head to one side. “You haven’t asked.”

“Asked what?” she parroted in confusion.

“Why I am here today.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Because you are very kind, of course. You have rescued me from much more than a fall today, and I am very grateful to you for it.”

“Grateful,” he repeated, his expression utterly inscrutable. “I’m not here for gratitude… or to be kind.”

She had offended him in some way. That became glaringly apparent to her, though she hadn’t the faintest notion how. “Of course not. But just because you do not do something for gratitude does not mean you shall not have it. I would be having a very poor time of it here had I not had you to keep my company… if it isn’t kindness, why are you here?”

A sigh escaped him and for the first time since they’d left the house, he looked away from her. He peered into the distance as if searching for what he should say next in some distant vista. “Charlotte, there is a point in time when even a man such as myself does not wish to be alone.”

Charlotte’s heart did that curious leap again. That was a very true statement. While he’d always been very kind to her, most people thought him quite rude. Before, she’d wondered if it was because she was betrothed and therefore not a threat to what everyone had assumed was his very confirmed bachelorhood. “I would never think to presume, my lor—Ethan. I am certain you have your reasons for everything that you do.”

“True enough. I’ve reached the conclusion, Charlotte, that it is time to take a wife.”

Charlotte felt a pit hollow itself out in her stomach. Of course, he wanted a wife. He was a titled gentleman with extensive estates and a generous fortune. He would want a wife to manage his estates. His sister would not want to do that forever. Surely, having been widowed for more than a year, she would also be looking for marriage again. “I see. Well, moving in society, limited though it is in Ambleside, is certainly the best place to start your search.”

“My search?”

“For your prospective bride, of course,” Charlotte replied.

He looked at her quizzically, as if completely puzzled by her reply. His lips parted as if to speak, but a high pitched and very familiar voice called out, “My lord? My lord?”

His head whipped around and the flash of annoyance on his normally impassive was impossible to miss.

“Oh, I was afraid you’d run off already!”

Charlotte glanced in the direction of Mrs. Barrington who’d come to retrieve them. The woman was quite breathless and appeared to have been running about in her efforts to find them.

“We’re about to begin our game of trucco, and the boys insisted that Miss Mulberry must join us. Alas, you must as well for when Charlotte joins in, we will have uneven numbers! Do come along… quickly.”

Charlotte turned her head and saw the Marquess’ thunderous expression. “It will be enjoyable, my lord. I promise.”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “I doubt that, but there is one benefit at least.”

He was not happy to join her for the game. Because he was not on the same team. There could have been no greater distance between them at that gathering unless he had simply elected to stay home.

There were no further opportunities to speak with her or to explain to her that he wasn’t simply searching for any wife. He needed to inform her, quite desperately, that he’d already identified the person whom he wished to wed and it was her.

Despite that, he had to admit that it had been a joy to watch her. She’d played the game with a kind of enthusiasm and abandon that had simply radiated happiness. Carefree and lovely, he’d been unable to take his eyes off her. Now, with the game at an end, the party was winding down. Perhaps, if he offered to walk her home, they might have a chance to speak, to ask her if she might be willing to entertain the idea of him courting her.

Striding toward her, he found himself halted by a bevy of younger people who were celebrating their victory in the game. And as he struggled to extricate himself from the melee, he saw Miss Charlotte Mulberry walking into the house with Mrs. Whitlow. By the time he reached the doors to re-enter the house, Miss Mulberry had vanished within its depths.

“My lord,” Mrs. Barrington said with a smile, “I’m so pleased you could join us today.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barrington, for the invitation. Is Miss Mulberry in need of an escort home?”

The hostess waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, heavens no! I’ve sent her off in the carriage. I had some items to donate for the poor and Charlotte, bless her, has offered to oversee it for me.”

Foiled by charity.

“I see,” he said. “How generous.”

“Indeed it is! Both of myself and Charlotte. Poor girl. Hasn’t a tuppence to her name, you know? But she gives freely of her time and her kind nature.”

Ethan had no notion how to respond to that. Whether or not Charlotte Mulberry was impoverished or not made no difference to him, so comment on that, to his mind, was not required. As to her generous nature, it was well known, and therefore required no comment. So he simply said, “Humph.”

Mrs. Barrington smiled warmly. “Now, will you be joining us for Mrs. Whitlow’s house party? I know you said earlier you meant to, but I’m also aware that we might have taxed your willingness to engage in our nonsensical games and activities,” she teased.

Yes, his willingness to engage in such activities had been taxed beyond what he could endure. But he was left with no other option. “I am willing to attend the party.” Willing. Not enthusiastic.

Mrs. Barrington cocked her head to one side and surveyed him with suspicion. “You’ve been remarkably attentive to Miss Mulberry, my lord. How kind you are to show such gentlemanly concern for her given the unpleasantness she has endured of late… I am sure she is quite grateful for your consideration, as am I.”

“Gratitude is unnecessary, Mrs. Barrington. Not from you nor from Miss Mulberry,” he replied stiffly.

“Of course. I know you dislike anyone making a fuss… but it has not gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated.”

Precisely what he did not want. Gratitude and appreciation were the very last things he wished to inspire in Miss Charlotte Mulberry. He had to find a moment alone with her. At least one.