Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

HEART TO HEART

T ears glistened in her eyes and stained her cheeks, and the way Miss Hartley stood before him made Charles fear she might crumble to the floor at any moment. She looked so broken and hurt, her strength waning, that every cell in his body ached to protect her, to guard her from the ugliness of the world, from those who would seek to betray her.

"I am with child." The moment the words left her lips, her eyes widened in shock, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth as though the movement could draw them back and hide them from him.

Utterly focused on her, Charles felt his own emotions delayed. At first, he simply heard her words, then slowly he understood their meaning. Yet it took a heartbeat or two for him to experience a measure of shock as well as disappointment and anger.

And… jealousy.

Of course, he was angry that Lord Strumpton had taken advantage of her so cruelly. Of course, he felt disappointment because a child meant marriage, did it not? Was that not precisely why her parents had rushed to secure another match? And… yes, a part of him loathed the thought that another had won her heart.

Still staring at him, Miss Hartley made an agonizing sound deep in her throat before her knees gave out. In the blink of an eye, she slumped down, her eyes closing as though in defeat, in surrender.

Charles experienced that moment delayed once more, to his senses it was as though time had slowed, allowing him to see and hear and feel everything.

Allowing him to close that last step between them and pull her into his arms before she hit the floor.

Gently, he picked her up, marveling at the almost weightless feeling of her in his arms, and settled her upon the settee. He sat down beside her, surprised when she did not pull away but rested her head on his shoulder. Her eyes closed as tears rushed down her cheeks. Sobs fell from her lips, and he felt her fingers curl into his jacket, holding on, desperation clinging to her like a heavy blanket.

For a long time, they simply sat there, and Charles held her as she wept. He murmured words of comfort, doubting that she had heard any of them. Yet he wished for her to know that she was not alone. No matter what he would have to do to see her smile, Charles knew he would not hesitate. One day, he promised himself, he would see a true, genuine, utterly bewitching smile come to her face.

Indeed, never had he seen her smile. Never had he heard her laugh. He had only met her the day before, and yet she already meant the world to him.

Charles almost laughed at the notion. Even in his addled mind, it struck him as ludicrous. Yet there were people who fell in love within the space of mere moments, were there not? Indeed, his parents were those kind of people. To this day, his father delighted in telling them the story of how their mother had whispered to her best friend only moments after first laying eyes on him that he would be the one she would marry. She had known. But how? Perhaps no one quite knew how. Perhaps it simply did not matter, as long as one was certain.

"I thought he loved me as well," Beatrice murmured once her sobs had died down; yet she did not retreat, her head still resting against his shoulder. "He said so. He said we would have a future together." A heavy sigh drifted from her lips. "Yet truth be told, he never spoke of marriage. I simply assumed I suppose. I…" Another heavy sigh. "When I told him that… I was with child, he said he was obligated to marry another. He said… it broke his heart."

Charles's arm tightened upon her shoulders, holding her closer, anger welling up once more. How dare Lord Strumpton treat a sweet girl like Miss Hartley like that?

"He lied," Beatrice continued, the tone in her voice distant, as though she was barely aware of his presence. "He was not heartbroken. I could see it in his face." She shifted, raised her chin and looked up at him. "He never loved me. I was a fool to believe him."

Her eyes closed, and a deep breath passed her lips. Then she straightened, and Charles was forced to remove his arm from around her shoulders. Her eyes shone in a deep blue, overshadowed with pain and anguish. He also saw a touch of shyness, of reproach, as though she felt ashamed for having allowed him to hold her. "Now, I am to marry Mr. Carter." Her lower lip trembled, and she folded her hands in her lap. "He… He made it quite clear that I was to do nothing that would bring shame to his family." A slightly hysterical chuckle fell from her lips as her gaze moved from Charles to the closed door and back. "Quite obviously, I have a talent for finding trouble."

Pushing to her feet, Miss Hartley swayed briefly, so that Charles jumped up, holding out his hands to her. "No, I'm all right. Thank you." She tried to smile at him, yet it fell far short of the kind of smile Charles hoped to see. "Will you… will you please help me return to the ballroom?" She wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks, then she cleared her throat, struggling to regain her composure.

Charles knew that he simply ought to do as she had asked. Yet if he let her go now, he would lose her for good. She would marry Mr. Carter and spend the rest of her life in misery. He was certain of it. No, he had come here tonight on a mission of his own, and he would see it through.

Nothing had changed. His heart still beat for her, and that was all that mattered.

"Marry me," Charles blurted out without preamble, without any sort of lead-up or explanation.

Miss Hartley stilled, her eyes going wide as she stared into his face. "Pardon me?" she murmured, her eyes blinking furiously as though she wondered if she was even truly awake. "What did you say?"

Charles swallowed hard, straightening his shoulders. "I asked you to marry me." He held her gaze, needing her to know that he meant what he had said.

Another heartbeat passed, and Miss Hartley continued to stare at him. "You cannot mean that," she exclaimed then, shaking her head in denial. "No, you cannot." Her gaze narrowed, suspicion there now. "What are you playing at?" Almost fearful, she backed away.

Charles held up his hands to show that he meant her no harm. "I do mean every word I said," he said slowly. "I wish to marry you."

"You cannot. I just told you I—" She broke off, her eyes unblinking. "Why would you…?" Again, she shook her head.

"Because you deserve better," Charles assured her, afraid that she would deny him, knowing deep in his bones that if he were to allow her to walk out of his life, he would regret it forever. "I promise, if you agree to marry me, I vow to keep you safe, you and your child, and to do my utmost to see you happy again." He inhaled a deep breath and took a step backward. "Of course, it is your decision. Though I urge you to think on it. Please."

As though lightning had struck her, Miss Hartley stared at him, disbelief in her eyes. Yet there was no more fear, no more suspicion, and Charles was grateful for it. He had done what he came here to do, now he could only hope that she would accept him.