Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

" M iss Hawick, your father wishes to see you in the study."

Charlotte, who had been attempting to read, looked up at once.

"My father?" She had not seen him since the previous day and, given that she had barely slept, only to then fall asleep at the time the maids rose to start the day, Charlotte had not been very present with any of her family. Part of her had hoped that her sister would forget about the entire situation, that Lord Kentmore would not move forward with his responsibilities, and that all would be well. Thus, she had tried to put the whole thing out of her mind, had determined that she would speak to Lillian whenever she saw her next and to beg her not to speak to their parents about what had taken place.

Now, however, she feared that Lillian had done more than she ought.

"Did he say what it was about?"

The footman shook his head and then stepped to one side, holding the door open for Charlotte to exit the room. Charlotte knew as well as the footman that she could not keep her father waiting and thus, feeling herself all of a tremble, she rose and made her way from the room. Her heart pounded furiously, her hands clenching and unclenching as she walked to the study, only to find the door open and the sounds of voices coming from within.

"I did not know that he even was acquainted with her!" she heard her mother say, fear beginning to climb up her throat, making her want to scream aloud, to refute all that Lillian had clearly told them. "I must say, this is something of an astonishment."

"Thank you for telling us, Lillian. It is no surprise that your sister did not wish to, given that she is a good deal quieter and more reserved than you are. I am sure that she will be very grateful."

Grateful? A sudden twist of anger tore through Charlotte, and she made her way into the room directly, her eyes flashing to her sister who, seeing her come in, quickly looked away.

"Charlotte! Thank you for coming. Your sister has informed us of a conversation which took place last evening while she was present." Her mother came closer to her, a bright smile on her face. "The Marquess of Kentmore seeks to court you?"

Charlotte lifted her chin.

"Mama, the Marquess of Kentmore is a rogue."

"Yes, but for you, I am certain that he will change his ways," Lillian interrupted, ignoring the sharp look that Charlotte threw at her, unspeakingly demanding that she remain silent. "He expressed himself so warmly last evening, I am quite certain that he will not remain a rogue for long."

"I did not want you to speak of this to our parents, Lillian," Charlotte said, sharply. "I believe that I told you last evening that I would speak to them about it."

Lillian pouted.

"I was only being a considerate sister," she responded, a slight glint in her eye which Charlotte was quite certain her mother and father did not see. "You are much too shy about such things, and I am sure that you have already convinced yourself that such a request was not made in earnest! Thus, you are now likely determined to keep it to yourself, and Lord Kentmore's desire would never have been made known, and you would have missed out on a wonderful match!"

"Wonderful?" Charlotte could not keep the derision from her voice, her hands on her hips as tears sparked in her eyes. "Lord Kentmore is a scoundrel! I have no promise that he will change, despite what you say."

"And yet, we must consider it," Lady Morton answered, softly. "My dear girl, this is, as your sister has said, an excellent match. I understand that you might be concerned as regards Lord Kentmore's character but–"

"You warned both myself and Lillian to stay away from such gentlemen!" Charlotte exclaimed, tears now falling down her cheeks. "But now you wish me to marry one? That does not make sense, Mama. How can I do such a thing?"

Lord Morton harrumphed quietly, though it was enough to bring a stillness to Charlotte, a recognition that her father's authority was over her still. She closed her eyes and inclined her head, pulling out her handkerchief to dry her tears.

"I confess that I do not fully understand your tears, though I must agree with both your mother and your sister. To be matched with a Marquess, whatever his reputation, is an excellent match for the daughter of a Viscount, and I do not think that you should let it pass by." Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut all the more tightly, fighting to keep the tears from falling like rain. "I find myself quite delighted with it if I am to be honest," her father continued, his happiness sounding in his voice. "My daughter shall be a Marchioness! This will bring our family's standing all the higher, which is excellent indeed!"

Charlotte choked back a sob, hearing Lillian's words repeated in her head alongside their father's. It was clear to her that her father considered social standing of great importance, just as Lillian did, and now, evidently, there was to be no stepping back from this. Charlotte would have to marry Lord Kentmore regardless of her feelings.

"Then it is decided, yes?" Lady Morton threw a smile to her husband who returned it with a nod of his head, leaving Charlotte standing alone, feeling utterly dejected. "No doubt he will come to speak with you this evening, Morton, if he is in attendance at the soiree."

"I shall be delighted to meet him!" came the enthusiastic reply, as Charlotte turned to make her way from the room. "A remarkable circumstance, truly remarkable. To think that our youngest daughter would make such a superb match, my dear!"

Charlotte walked out of her father's study, hearing the three of them still discussing her courtship and connection to Lord Kentmore while, at the same time, seeming not to realize that she had taken her leave of them. Thanks to Lillian, the situation had been revealed to her parents and their enthusiasm seemed to know no bounds. No one had asked her how she truly felt. Yes, they had listened, but they had not taken it in, had not given her concerns any credence. Instead, they had simply thought of their own standing, the improvements that her connection would bring, and had set her aside entirely.

Finally reaching the solace of her room, Charlotte sank onto her bed, pulled out her handkerchief, and burst into tears.

She had never felt so alone in all her life, and there was not a soul present to comfort her.

There he is.

Charlotte's whole body jolted as Lord Kentmore caught her gaze, though it was not all entirely from upset. She had to admit that Lord Kentmore did look handsome tonight, though that was not something she had previously been unaware of. There was little doubt that he was a handsome fellow, given just how easily he could capture the attention of many a young lady within the ton. She, however, was not about to be affected.

"I do hope you know that I have done this for your best," Lillian murmured, just as Lord Kentmore glanced back at her again. "You may not like it, but you know that it is the right thing to do… for everyone." Charlotte said nothing, choosing not to confide in her sister any longer. She had been touched by Lillian's concern for her at the ball with her ripped gown but what had happened thereafter had caused Charlotte to be entirely distrusting now. "And now you will not speak to me?" Lillian let out a snort as Lord Kentmore and Lord Glenfield looked towards them again. "There is nothing that could have been done, Charlotte. You know that."

"You could have remained silent, as could have I," Charlotte countered, speaking so quietly so as not to have her mother overhear them.

"And what if someone from the ton had seen you?"

"Then I could have waited to see if that was a possibility," Charlotte answered, sharply. "I know that this was not something which I thought of at the time, but upon considering the matter, I think that–"

"Miss Hawick, Miss Hawick." Charlotte was forced to stop as Lord Glenfield came to them, a broad smile on his face as he inclined his head. "A good evening to you both. I wonder, Miss Hawick, if I might draw you into conversation for a moment?"

Lillian, ever ready with her enthusiasm, let out a small exclamation and then stepped away from Charlotte and their mother almost at once, though they did not go far.

"But of course, Lord Glenfield. Now, tell me. Has Lord Kentmore told you about the present circumstances?"

Charlotte closed her eyes in mortification, wishing that she could find a shadowy corner in which to hide herself. Her sister was much too enthusiastic – and much too forward – for Charlotte's liking, and it brought her nothing but embarrassment. Opening her eyes, Charlotte's breath hitched as she saw that Lord Kentmore had come to speak with her father and was doing so already, glancing over his shoulder to her once or twice. Her stomach dipped, her fears burning hot trails down her arms and legs, only for Lord Kentmore to turn to face her, a small smile on his lips which did not ignite any sort of spark in his eyes.

"Miss Hawick." He inclined his head. "Might you wish to take a turn about the room?"

Charlotte closed her eyes, sensing the slight tremble about her lips as she fought to keep her whirling emotions under tight control. No, she wanted to say, she had no interest in walking with him, had no desire to spend even the smallest amount of time in his company. Her entire world had been shrouded in darkness ever since he had kissed her, and he was the one responsible for it. Scouring her mind to find an answer, to give him an excuse as to why she could not possibly be in his company, she lifted her chin a notch.

"No, I do not think that it would be proper to do so."

Instantly, Lord Kentmore took a small step backward, astonishment filling his expression – astonishment which then quickly turned into a grimace. Evidently, he had not been expecting her to refuse him.

A laugh came from her mother, however, as her hand went to Charlotte's arm.

"My dear, you must not think that there is any sort of concern here about propriety or the like! So long as you do not leave the room, you are permitted to walk with Lord Kentmore for a time without a chaperone."

Please understand how uncomfortable this makes me, Mama, Charlotte thought to herself, looking long at her mother only for Lady Morton to lift an eyebrow at her instead. Charlotte's heart twisted, a sigh breaking from her lips as she realized that she was not to have any sort of escape.

"Very well, Lord Kentmore," she said, hearing the sorrow in her voice, but doing nothing to hide it. "A walk around the room it shall be."

Her mother smiled her acceptance of this and, having no choice but to place a hand on his arm, Charlotte let herself be taken away from the safety of her mother's company, being led around the side of the room by Lord Kentmore.

They said nothing. The silence between them grew thick and Charlotte's mind clouded, her shoulders dropping as they continued about the room. Lord Kentmore cleared his throat once, twice and then took a long breath, turning to look at her.

"Miss Hawick, I suppose that I should, first of all, apologize for what I did."

"Apologize?" Charlotte glanced at him, aware of the sharpness of her tone. "Tell me, do you seek to apologize for what you did because of the consequences it has brought, or because of the action itself?"

Lord Kentmore swallowed but held her gaze.

"I thought you were someone else so yes, I apologize for the action I took, given that it was not you who was meant to be in my arms."

A sudden shiver ran through Charlotte's frame as her eyes drifted to his mouth, the memory of what it had been like to be held so tightly and kissed so passionately reverberating through her. And then, she shuddered, recalling the sort of gentleman he was and what she could expect from him as her husband.

"No doubt you will tell me that it is not something you intend to turn from?"

"Turn from?"

Charlotte looked at him again, her breath quickening a little as she fought to find the words.

"I – I mean to say that you will continue to be a rogue even though we are soon to be betrothed and married?"

She felt a tightness in her chest, her heart squeezing painfully as she saw a flicker of light coming into his eyes, only to fade away.

"I will not promise that I shall never return to such a way of life," he said, candidly. "But for the time being, during our courtship, betrothal, and marriage – and wedding trip – I shall do nothing other than devote myself to you." A wry laugh broke from his lips. "Lord Glenfield tells me that he believes things might change between us, that I might find myself suddenly very contented indeed, but I am not entirely convinced."

Charlotte said nothing for some moments, a faint flicker of hope igniting itself in her heart. Lord Kentmore might be the most dreadful rogue at present, but he had committed himself to her for the time being, which was something, was it not? And what if, as Lord Kentmore had suggested, things changed within his heart so that he wanted none but her?

"You must tell me some things about yourself, Miss Hawick," Lord Kentmore continued, changing the subject entirely. "If we are to court and soon become betrothed, then it is right that I, as your intended, know as much about you as I can."

A little surprised, Charlotte looked away.

"You already know that I do not tolerate foolishness and flirtation, Lord Kentmore," she said, tightly. "And that I enjoy reading. Is that not enough?"

A small sound came from Lord Kentmore's throat.

"Yes, I well recall that you read a great deal of poetry," he said, sounding irritated - as though, somehow, her answer to his question had been a cause of frustration in some way. "You are, I think, the only young lady in London who does not find herself affected by the poems in The London Chronicle, given how many other poems you have read which you can measure it against."

Feeling a little attacked, Charlotte rose to defend herself.

"I am well-read, and I do not consider that a bad thing," she retorted. "To me, the gentleman who writes the poetry in The London Chronicle lacks a little passion. There is also the fact that, in the last poem he wrote, all but one of the lines rhymed, which makes me wonder if he is truly feeling what he writes, or if it is simply a matter of stating what he can to garner as much feeling from others as possible."

"You give your opinion very assuredly for someone who is a little reserved."

She looked at him.

"I do. I know what I speak of, and I will not pretend otherwise to satisfy the ego of any gentleman."

This made Lord Kentmore blink rapidly, evidently astonished that she would think to speak as boldly to him as she had done. Charlotte said nothing further, however, though inwardly she felt a small curl of satisfaction that she had rendered him practically silent. She was not ashamed to state that she knew poetry well, for it was something that she read very often, as she had done for many years. Lord Kentmore, she considered, certainly would not have the same expertise, given that he, no doubt, had not spent many hours scrutinizing each word, reading each line, and wondering at the meaning. No, Charlotte thought to herself, a hint of a smile on her lips now, she could have perfect confidence in this… and Lord Kentmore was not about to take that from her.

"Are you not going to ask me anything about myself, as I have asked you?"

A little surprised, Charlotte looked at him again.

"What is there that you think I need to consider?"

She resisted the desire to point out to him that, though he had asked her a question, he had not garnered any further knowledge from it, given that she had simply reminded him of things he already knew.

"You know nothing about me."

A broken laugh came from her lips, though she shook her head at him thereafter, the edge of her lip curling.

"Lord Kentmore, I believe that I know as much about you as I need to."

His jaw tightened.

"I hardly think so."

"You are a rogue. A scoundrel, who enjoys nothing more than spending all of his time garnering as much attention from society ladies as he can," Charlotte returned, quickly. "Your hobbies are, I expect, shooting, riding your horse, and playing cards – and, no doubt, gambling with it. Thereafter, while you are in society, you want to do nothing other than flirt, tease, and embrace whichever lady your eyes fall upon, and whichever one of them stirs your interest, you must have in your arms for a time – for none of them are permitted to enter your heart! You do not think of any other aside from yourself, you do not let yourself be swayed by the concerns or even the interests of others. Instead, you turn away and keep your eyes fixed solely upon yourself. There is arrogance and selfishness within you, and you do not care." She turned to face him, her hand still on his arm but pulling away from him slowly. "Is there anything that I have said which is incorrect, Lord Kentmore? Or is there anything more that I should know of you that I do not already?" A shadow passed over Lord Kentmore's expression, his jaw flexing as his hazel eyes searched hers. He opened his mouth, let out a huff of breath, and then closed it again, shaking his head as if to say that he had decided not to speak at all. "And this is the gentleman I am to marry."

Charlotte closed her eyes, the words coming out as a whisper, though she had not meant to speak them aloud. A tightness came into her chest, tears burning in her eyes and though she fought them, though she tried her utmost not to let a single tear fall, she could not prevent it. As she opened her eyes, one dashed to her cheek and though she caught it, sniffed and blinked furiously to keep the rest back, she feared that someone had seen it fall.

An expression passed over Lord Kentmore's face, something that Charlotte could not make out. He frowned, shook his head, and then looked away, clearing his throat as he did so.

"I should return you to your mother," he muttered, his free hand settling on hers for just a moment as she held it on his arm. "No doubt news of our courtship will be all around London by the morning."

"I expect it shall be." There was a tremor in her voice as she thought of the many interesting remarks that would be made. "We can do nothing other than accept it, I suppose."

Lord Kentmore stopped short. He did not turn to her but instead, looked directly ahead, only to sigh and then glance towards her.

"I…" Trailing off, he closed his eyes. "I am sorry, Charlotte."

Whether it was the fact that he said her name, or that he had apologized with evident sincerity, Charlotte did not know. But something within her lifted, then, something that made her heart catapult against her ribs. She swallowed, trying to find something to say, but no words came. Lord Kentmore offered her a small nod, as though he was now glad that he had said what he desired, only to then lead her forward again, returning her to her mother.

It was the most astonishing thing, Charlotte considered, as she came to stand beside her mother once more. Both she and Lord Kentmore had been upset and frustrated and yet, in a single moment, she had found that releasing from her a little – though not entirely – simply because of his apology.

"Did you enjoy your time with Lord Kentmore?" Lady Morton beamed at Charlotte though she herself struggled to smile. "It will be the talk of London very soon, I am sure!"

"It seems that it shall be," Charlotte answered, feeling herself a little weary now, not quite certain that she could cope with all that the ton would put to her. "And somehow, I shall have to face it all."