Chapter 31
“Iswore I would not do this, but to my mind, circumstances have changed.” Nash rolled up onto his side to stare fiercely into her eyes. His jaw firmed and his mouth tensed. “I had no idea until you told me, Charlotte, that you were a virgin. And while it should not make a difference, somehow it does. I swore to you I would not repeat my offer of marriage, but having been the first man in your bed, I would ask to remain the only one.”
Her heart hiccupped, then took off like a racehorse.
“I love you, Charlotte.” His gaze softened, the blue of his eyes becoming an intense azure. “I want to wake up next to you each morning in this bed. I want to eat breakfast across from your beautiful face every morning. I want to fill this house with the sounds of our children. But I can’t do that if you will not marry me.” He glanced down and took her hand. “I know you crave your independence, but I will give you as much leave to decide things as is possible given England’s laws. We will arrange for you to keep the rights to Lyttlefield to run as you see fit.”
Of all the revelations today, that one may have been the most touching.
He looked into her eyes and hung his head. “I know you have been disappointed before and lost a dear love.”
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think of Edward now. She only wanted to think of Nash.
He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.
Even that small touch set her on fire.
“I know that I could never take the place of that love, but I do think you have a particular regard for me.” He gestured to their naked bodies. “I hope it goes beyond this physical expression, although I do find that an excellent argument for marriage.” He grinned wickedly. “Think of all the pleasant afternoons we could pass as charmingly employed as we have today.”
Her whole body heated. She wanted him so much.
He gathered her into his arms, pressing himself against her once more, stirring her passion in an instant. His body betrayed his interest too as his hard member pushed against her belly. He nuzzled the hollow of her neck, his lips enflaming her as moisture flooded between her legs.
A moan rumbled from within her chest.
“I will break my word of honor, Charlotte, and ask you again, will you make me the happiest man alive and say you will marry me?” He sunk his lips onto her mouth, filling her with his strong essence, pinning her to the bed for what seemed like forever.
At last she shook off his mouth. “I can’t, Nash . . .”
The devastation in his eyes twisted her heart.
She hurried on. “If you will not give me the chance to say yes.”
He lay stunned, as if flummoxed by her words. “Yes?” A bare whisper.
“Yes.” She nodded, her life seeming to click into place as she pulled him toward her. “Freedom means something else entirely to me now. I want the freedom to make decisions, but I also want the security of knowing you will always be there, whenever I need you. I want the right to claim you as mine,” she tightened her grip, “and no other woman’s for as long as we both shall live.”
“Then marry me and never worry about that again.”
She hugged him close. “When?”
He laughed. “Tomorrow? Tonight? We’ve already started the wedding night.”
“Wretch.” She burrowed further into his chest, loving the clean scent of him. “I would like to have a wedding—a real wedding that I can look forward to. Not a mad dash to Gretna Green, nor a cold ceremony that I dread with all my heart.” But there was a fly in the ointment still. “The only thing I regret is giving my father his way once more. He will be smug for the rest of his life over this.”
“Would you let him ruin your happiness—our happiness—because of that?” Nash peered into her face.
“No.” She tightened her grip on him. “Now that I have you, it will take an act of Parliament to rid you of me.” She risked a peek at his face and thrilled to see his tender smile. “I would like to have all our friends and family, and I mean our whole family here at Wrotham.”
“The tenants?” His brows rose, but his smile firmed. “I think that’s a glorious idea. They would love to be a part of the joining of our two estates.”
Charlotte slid her hands down his muscular back and rubbed herself against his shaft. “I believe we should reenact that joining right now, my lord.” She seized his lips, thrusting her tongue into him.
After a few moments he eased himself away. “Much as I would love to continue, my love, I fear we have been far too long away from the festival.” He nodded toward the window, which showed shadows lengthening where earlier there had been none. “We must hurry back to Lyttlefield so you can change before the supper and the final festivities.”
“And what are they, pray tell?” She ran her hand across his taut stomach, trying to tempt him back to their private festivity.
“The crowning of the corn maiden and her joining with the lord of the harvest.”
Charlotte sat up, startled by the image of big Michael Thorne coupled with any of the young girls who were vying for the title of corn maiden. “Joining? They don’t really . . . join or marry, so they?”
Nash sat up on the side of the bed, and Charlotte reluctantly did the same. No more fun for now.
“A hundred or more years ago I hear they did more than the current symbolic kiss to insure the fields’ fertility.” He grabbed his breeches from the floor and looked at her over his shoulder. “If the corn maiden got with child, the lord of the harvest married her in the spring to encourage the fields at spring planting.”
Charlotte shuddered. Traditions were one thing, but such pagan rituals sat ill with her.
About to don his breeches, Nash glanced down and grunted. “Wait a moment, love.” He disappeared behind the screen and she heard water splashing into the bowl. She cocked her head. She supposed she should wash as well. An unpleasant stickiness between her thighs reminded her of their recent lovemaking.
Nash reappeared and she hopped down from the bed. “Do you mind if I . . .” A sudden embarrassment stopped her words.
“By all means, my dear. And I suppose that puts paid to the question of your virginity.” He nodded toward the bed, where a dark stain smeared the white sheet.
Her face heated and she sped behind the screen. Thank goodness she had been with Nash and not that weasel Kersey. From now on she’d count her blessings every day, the biggest among them being Nash.
She finished quickly, then stuck her head around the screen, suddenly too aware of her naked state. “Can you hand me my clothes, please?”
Fully dressed, he chuckled as he gave them to her. “You must not become shy now, Charlotte. You are glorious au naturel. I will enjoy seeing you thus every night. And devilishly glad we won’t have to wait until spring to marry.”
She ducked back around the screen. This would really happen. She had agreed to marry him. The misgivings she should have felt didn’t materialize. Instead, a calmness spread through her until she could answer back, “So am I. The sooner the better.”
“Then name the day, my dear. I will agree to any date that is not too far off.”
“Perhaps during the Christmas season? Everyone will be festive already and our joy will compound it.” She came around the side of the screen to stand at the end of the bed—their bed soon enough—with her back to him for him to do up her stays.
“It is not yet the middle of October. Don’t you think that’s too distant?” Instead of taking up the laces, he slipped his arms around her, cupping her breasts, rolling the nipples until they ached with fullness. Charlotte leaned back against him, moaning with new need. “Nash . . .”
He gave her breasts another squeeze, then withdrew and began to tighten her stays.
“Wretch!”
“Lest you begin to have second thoughts, my dear.” A laugh and a swat on her backside and he stepped away.
How could he tease her like that? She sighed and scrambled into the rest of her clothes. “Christmas might be too long a time to wait.”
He chuckled and led her out of the room.
As they descended the stairs, Nash slipped his arm around her waist, a possessive action she loved. She couldn’t wait to get back to Lyttlefield with the news.
They reached the bottom step and she glanced about for her wrap. She didn’t want to call the butler and give him ideas about what they’d been doing upstairs together for so long. “Nash, do you know where I put—”
Movement to her right. She wheeled around and found herself face-to-face with a huge bear of a man, retreating from the small reception room, two ornate silver candlesticks in one big paw. He turned, and his dirty gray shirt loomed large at her. A black mask hid his face. In his other hand, a cocked pistol aimed at Nash.
Before she could even scream, Nash had whipped her around behind him, shielding her from the danger and forcing her up the stairs.
No, no, no. He must not put himself in danger because of her. What would she do if . . .
As if by magic, seven other members of the gang converged out of the shadowy corridor, sacks clinking with valuables slung over shoulders or clutched in greasy hands. Charlotte gripped Nash’s shoulders.
“Do not worry, my dear,” he whispered loudly. “When I distract them, run upstairs and lock yourself in the bedroom. They want goods, not you.”
“No,” she whispered back, “I won’t leave you here with them.”
“Charlotte.” His voice held the command of a man who would not be gainsaid. “This is not the time to assert your independence. You will obey me—”
“’Ere now, mi’lord.” The burly man with the candlesticks waved the pistol at him. “Can’t have the lady leaving just when things is gettin’ right fun.” His eyes behind the mask flickered over her face and she ducked behind Nash. “Them’s some nice gewgaws in her ears. Stones’ll fetch a right nice price for the Govner.”
“ ‘The Govner?’ Who’s that?” The edge in Nash’s tone caught her attention. Why didn’t he tell the men to leave? Or call the servants?
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The sneer in the ruffian’s voice made Charlotte cringe. “Him’s the one’s kept us safe all this while. I’m no blab, though. Yer won’t get nuffin’ out o’ me ’bout the Govner.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Kelliam!” Nash shouted, and the corridor dripped officers. They materialized from under the staircase, from around the potted plants, out of the receiving room the big thief had vacated. Kelliam himself appeared from behind the long-case clock.
Nash stepped forward, knocking the gun from the thief’s hand. Runners grabbed the big man from both sides and wrestled him to the ground. The rest of the stunned gang watched, amazed, as the officers seized and bound them before they could even put up a struggle.
Shocked to her core, Charlotte stared from Nash to Kelliam to the head thief, rolling around on the floor.
“Good work, Lord Wrotham.” Mr. Kelliam nodded and consulted his watch. “I hadn’t expected you to be at home still. Didn’t we agree it would be best if you were not here when the attack occurred? You or Lady Cavendish might have come to harm.” He glared at Nash. “And very nearly did.”
“I am sorry, Kelliam.” Nash caught Charlotte’s eye, his twinkling. “Lady Cavendish and I ended up in a spirited discussion about the joining of our estates. We quite lost track of the time.”
The wicked man. Charlotte bit her tongue and broke from his gaze. She would make him pay for that little indiscretion.
Nash turned sober. “Have you found out who the informer is?”
“Not yet.” Kelliam nodded, and the two Runners holding the thief on the floor pulled him to his feet. “But I’m certain now that I have the cooperation of all these men, I’ll know directly. In fact, let us see who we’ll be talking to by and by.” He reached over and jerked the mask from the man’s face.
“Daniel Micklefield!” Nash’s face grew dark. “Your uncle won’t be able to hold his head up for shame at your treachery.”
Charlotte shook her head in sympathy. Poor Mr. Micklefield. There’d be no living this down for him. The scandal might very well ruin his business.
Nash nodded, and the other deputies pulled the masks from the rest of the gang members’ faces. “William Bell, Andrew Sharpe, Charles Robinson.” His stare became icy. “These are local men. The others I don’t know.”
“Possibly from London, my lord. We’ve found many of the soldiers discharged after the war have not been able to find employment and have therefore turned to crime.” Kelliam peered into their faces, then turned back to Nash. “We’ll take them down to The Bull. Mr. Micklefield gave us permission to hold the blackguards there if we caught them.” He cut his eyes toward Daniel. “He’s likely to be a mite riled when he finds out one’s his nephew.”
Nash nodded. “See what you can get out of them. I’m taking Lady Cavendish back to Lyttlefield Park. Keep me informed.”
Kelliam nodded, and the whole troop headed out the door.
Charlotte turned to Nash, who blithely placed a finger over her lips. “Shhhh. I’ll explain everything in the carriage.”
Charlotte gave him one searing look. “My wrap, please.”
Once in the carriage, Nash took her hand. She came close to snatching it away, but something deep down stayed her. She’d hear what he had to say for himself.
“I am so sorry to have withheld that little bit from you, Charlotte.”
“Little bit!” She pulled at her hand, but he held it fast. “Robbers and Runners leaping out at me. I’m surprised I didn’t swoon.”
“You are made of sterner stuff, as you have proved all summer. I trusted that you would be sensible—”
“And run up the stairs like a ninny and leave you to fight them alone?” He was going from bad to worse.
“Be sensible and stay put.” He kissed her hand. “I had to make them believe you were no threat, but I assumed you would refuse to yield your ground. You gave Kelliam a fright, I’m certain. He didn’t expect us to be in the house.”
“Joining of properties indeed.”
“How else would you have me put it?” He grinned at her. “I do beg your pardon, though. I thought we’d enough time to leave before the robbers arrived. They came a bit earlier than expected.”
“But why did you expect them at Wrotham? I thought you’d set a watch all over the estates and couldn’t find them. And then Mr. Kelliam said—”
“That was part of the plan. We spoke in London about how the gang always seemed to know about my movements here at Wrotham. Kelliam suggested that one of my servants might be an informer for the gang, someone who knew my movements and a great deal of yours as well. There might even be someone passing information about you in your own household.” Nash’s face hardened and his grip increased.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, my dear.” He loosened his grasp and kissed the injured hand. “I believe if we find out who he is, I’ll be hard pressed not to throttle him.
“Or her. It could be a woman. Many will do anything for her man.” She squeezed his hand. “I know I would.”
“So I saw. You acted foolishly, Charlotte, to . . .” He stopped when she put her finger to his lips.
“Let us not waste this night with talk of how foolish we each can be.” She smiled and removed her finger. “Else I will have to remark on how terribly foolish you were to try to disarm that robber.”
“You do remember I have been in combat—”
She grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his. One way to stop his foolish gabble. A good way, in fact.
They arrived at Lyttlefield Park as the lights were being lit. Charlotte swept into the hall on Nash’s arm, eager to find her friends and tell all her news. Lord, what an eventful day!
A babble of excited voices led them toward the drawing room.
“Everyone must have gathered there before heading back for supper and the crowning.” She hurried her steps as he led her into the room, crowded with more people, it seemed, than she had ever seen there. She scanned the room, searching the faces. Where was Jane? Everyone seemed clustered around the fireplace. Had it gotten colder? Then, above the din of the room, one voice rose to a crescendo.
“I don’t care what she’s told you. I tell you, that is my fireplace mantel!”
Charlotte stopped so abruptly that Nash carried onward into the room. He turned, brows raised. But she gave him no sign. There was no disguising that voice.
At last, the bane of her existence had come to call.
“Good evening, Edgar.”