Chapter 25
Charlotte did not realize she was holding her breath until she began to feel lightheaded. Beads of cold sweat had formed on her back and she felt uncomfortable in every possible way. She knew she had to turn away from him, to find someone to talk to so that she might escape the handsome face and mesmerizing eyes, but she was finding the effort to tear her gaze from him an arduously physical one.
She was vaguely aware that her aunt and Lady Elton continued to chatter amiably, although she could not focus at all on what they were saying. Her mouth went dry and she knew she could not speak to James if he made his way to her.
A sense of panic was beginning to rise in her chest and, more than anything, Charlotte wanted to run. She wanted to turn and flee, to tear through the house and out into the fresh air, never stopping once to look back. This was too much; she was too shocked and hardly knew how to continue.
Charlotte needed a distraction. She needed somebody else to talk to so that she might keep away from James Harrington without it becoming obvious to anybody. She could turn her attention back to her aunt, but there was a very real possibility that Lady Elton would see fit to attempt to introduce her to the new Duke and Charlotte knew she could not possibly get through that without giving herself away. She needed time to think and time to gather the emotions that seemed to swirl in her chest and ricochet off the walls of her ribcage. She felt hot and cold, panicked and nauseous, and she knew she would have to act.
The moment James, his eyes still on hers, took a single step in her direction, it was as if Charlotte had been freed from restraints suddenly and she sprang into action.
She turned back to her aunt and Lady Elton and smiled brightly before looking all around the room. Charlotte immediately fixed on an older man of perhaps forty years who was beginning to rise from one of the bridge tables. She could see that he was thanking his bridge partner without much enthusiasm before casting a speculative eye about the room.
Charlotte hoped with all her heart that the fair-haired man was looking for another game otherwise, she was about to make a fool of herself.
“Lady Elton, who is that gentleman just rising from his game? I am certain I know him from somewhere but cannot place him.” She was talking quickly and knew she must calm down to avoid raising either the suspicions of her aunt or Lady Elton.
“Oh, that is Marcus Hillington, my dear. He is awfully clever, especially when it comes to investments and what-have-you, but he is a rather quiet sort of a man. One of the few who attends my afternoons solely to play bridge rather than to chatter.” Lady Elton shrugged as if she could not fathom the man’s attitude at all.
“Would you mind introducing me? I am still certain I have met him before. Perhaps if he is in want of a bridge partner, I could play a game with him and see if I can lay my burning curiosity to rest.” Charlotte went on brightly before turning to her aunt. “Would you mind at all, Aunt Gwendolyn? I should rather like to play.”
“Not at all my dear.” Gwendolyn smiled but looked a little curious, as did Lady Elton who clearly could not imagine anybody finding anything of interest in Marcus Hillington.
Charlotte looked over to where Marcus Hillington stood and took a step in his direction, hoping that the move would hurry Lady Elton along before James appeared on the edge of their group and she found herself trapped.
“My dear Mr. Hillington.” Lady Elton began warmly as the three women approached. “Might I introduce you to a prospective bridge partner?”
Marcus Hillington’s expression eased a little. Initially, he had looked a little perturbed as if he might be expected to conduct a lengthy and, to him, boring conversation. But the promise of a bridge partner instead seemed to mollify him, and he gave Charlotte a tight-lipped smile that seemed more disinterested than displeased.
“Of course, Lady Elton.” He said and Charlotte almost winced at the flatness of his tone.
“This is Miss Charlotte Cunningham, and she is very keen to play.” Lady Elton went on, clearly still a little wrong-footed by Charlotte’s unexpected interest in the dullest person in the room.
“How nice to meet you, Miss Cunningham. I see there is another pair ready to play if you would follow me.” He said and set off before Charlotte had even a chance to return his greeting.
She stood stock still for a moment before coming to her senses, smiling at her aunt and Lady Elton, and following along in his wake.
It was a curious moment and she could not help but think that, were she not desperate, she would have left the disinterest man to wander across the drawing alone and find herself someone livelier to spend her time with.
But she wasdesperate, and it left her with little choice. As she walked away, Charlotte could hear her aunt and Lady Elton immediately begin to strike up conversation. She could not hear exactly what they were saying, but the confused tones led her to suspect they were discussing her own curious behavior.
She had undoubtedly sparked their interest, not to mention the suspicion she had been hoping to avoid, but she would simply have to worry about that later. For now, she would have to concentrate hard on a bridge game she did not want to play and do something to recover from the shock of seeing James there before her.
“Thank you.” Charlotte said quietly as Marcus Hillington mechanically pulled out her chair.
As she sat and made herself comfortable, Charlotte could not help but look across the room to see what James was doing.
And, sure enough, he was staring over at her.
James could hardly believe how seeing Charlotte again would have affected him. He had been anticipating the sight of her for days now, ever since he had secured his invite from Lady Elton.
But to see her in the flesh almost floored him.
He had imagined Charlotte over and over in his mind, drawing her likeness to mind every day of the last three years. But his memory had surely played him false for he was taken aback by just how beautiful she was, even more than he had remembered.
When she had turned to look at him, James felt incredibly guilty. He had shocked her, and he knew it, but he could not imagine how it could have been avoided. If he had written to her beforehand to let him know that he would be at Lady Elton’s bridge afternoon, James knew that there was a strong likelihood that Charlotte would never have come at all.
And yet the look on her face had dug hard into his heart, affecting him greatly. She looked stunned, as well she might. James had thought that she would turn away from him immediately, but she did not, she just continued to stare back. The whole thing had reminded him a little cruelly of the very first day he had seen her, that very first time when he had stared at her outside Hanover Hall and she, not willing to give in, had stared back.
But there was nothing playful about this, nothing new and wondrous. It was a look which contained everything, hurt and pain, anger,and resentment; even fear. And why would she not be fearful? After all, she was away from home, in a new environment altogether, and she had suddenly been confronted with the man who had let her down so badly.
James had wanted to rescue her from her own feelings, to dash across to her and tell her that he loved her still, he always had. He wanted to wipe away three years of uncertainty and tell her that nothing had ever changed for him.
The moment he had taken that first step, he saw Charlotte draw in a breath before turning away from him and looking all about the room. Instead of continuing to make his way towards her, James simply stood where he was. He knew that she was looking for some escape and that he would have to allow her that much. After all, did he not owe her the right to have this first meeting after so many years conducted in a manner that she saw fit rather than a manner that he saw fit?
Yes, he had no doubt that Charlotte Cunningham had earned that right and so he stayed where he was and watched, fighting every instinct to go to her and take her in his arms.
James looked on helplessly as Charlotte was introduced to a man some years older than he was, a fair-haired man who seemed to be almost entirely expressionless. But James understood entirely why Charlotte had chosen him; a man so disinterested would undoubtedly be easy company in which a young woman could put her own emotions to rights again.
And yet still it hurt somehow; it pained him to see her dashing off in the direction of another man, any other man, and for any reason. He knew he did not have a right to such hurt, but he also knew that everything that had gone before had hurt him too.
But, of course, Charlotte could not be expected to know that. As far as she was concerned he had kissed her and walked away.
James, for his part, could not begin to see how he could ever put that right again. As kind as it had been of Hector to make him aware of Charlotte’s close proximity, perhaps it would have been kinder had he said nothing.
“Have you managed to get a game yet, Your Grace?” Lady Elton said, smiling warmly as she bore down upon him.
She had whom he assumed to be Gwendolyn Dearborn in tow, holding that lady’s hand in her own and clearly getting ready to make an introduction.
There certainly was a family resemblance and, had he known no different, James might have thought the gently aging woman with the faded chestnut hair to be Charlotte’s mother.
“No, I have not had a mind to play just yet. I am rather enjoying your wonderful drawing room and very fine company, My Lady.” James said and inclined his head respectfully.
In truth, he did not particularly feel like holding up his end of the conversation, but he knew he could not escape it. In any case, it might be advantageous to make the acquaintance Charlotte’s aunt.
“Then might I introduce you to yet more wonderful company, Your Grace?” Lady Elton said and turned to look at her companion. “This is Mrs. Gwendolyn Dearborn.”
“How very nice to meet you, Mrs.Dearborn,” James said and bowed deeply. “I do believe I know your name although I am certain that we have never met.”
“Oh, it is very nice to meet you, at last, Your Grace.” Mrs. Dearborn said and bobbed dutifully.
“Mrs. Dearborn is a great friend of mine, Your Grace, and a regular attendee at my bridge afternoons.” Lady Elton peered over her shoulder to where Charlotte was determinedly keeping her focus on the game at hand, looking almost as intent on it as her rather dull partner. “And hopefully, once Mrs. Dearborn’s niece is finished playing her current game, I might be able to introduce you to her also.”
“I am already acquainted with Miss Charlotte Cunningham.” James said, realizing that he must do something.
It was enough, surely, that he had upended Charlotte so cruelly that he did not need to put her through the ordeal of an introduction if all she wanted in the world was to be away from him.
“Oh, I see.” Lady Elton said and tried to hide her surprise in a way that Gwendolyn Dearborn could not.
“Yes, I met Miss Cunningham some years ago when I was a guest at Hanover Hall. And I have been a guest on a number of occasions at Thurlow manor also.” He spoke in a noncommittal way and he watched as both women slowly came to their own conclusions.
Gwendolyn Dearborn frowned a little but quickly recovered herself and James could see that she had realized that there had, at some stage, been something of significance between the two of them.
“Oh yes, of course.” Gwendolyn said hurriedly as if to smooth over the conversation altogether, perhaps even seal it off.
“So, you must let Miss Cunningham continue in her game, I would not have her disturbed simply for the sake of it.” James smiled and looked over again to where Charlotte was concentrating for all she was worth.
He allowed himself a few moments study of her, not caring about the suspicions of the two ladies in his company. Charlotte’s skin had not changed, and her hair was still as vibrant as ever. But the amused, sardonic tilt of her mouth seemed to have been flattened out and he knew it had much to do with him.
“Quite so, Your Grace.” Lady Elton said brightly, catching on to the whole thing.
“Tell me, who is the gentleman who partners Miss Cunningham?” James said in a light tone that was designed to sound barely interested. “I do not think I have ever seen him before.”
“Oh, that is Marcus Hillington.” Lady Elton said conversationally. “He is a very bright sort of a man, very clever with investments. I believe he is able to take a small purse of money and turn it into a very large one simply by placing it in this and that idea. I must admit, I do not understand the thing at all, but I believe that he is a very wealthy man.”
“And he has a family?” James knew that his question could not possibly sound disinterested, but he had no other way of framing it.
Whilst he did not seriously consider any particular regard on Charlotte’s part for the man she was sitting next to, still he wanted to know a little more about the austere-looking fair-haired man. More importantly, he wanted to know if the man was already married.
“No, Your Grace, he is a bachelor.” Lady Elton said, and he knew that she was now very sensible of his reason for attending her afternoon of bridge in the first place.
James knew that he would get nowhere else with his questioning, surely there was nothing else to find. It was clear that Charlotte had not already known her bridge partner before being introduced that day. And if he had not surprised her in the way that he had, James was certain that she would never have sought an introduction to Marcus Hillington in the first place.
No, this was just the beginning and Charlotte was going to need time to adjust to all of it. And James knew that she might never adjust to it, she might never want him in her life again. But he knew that there was more to be tried first before he gave up on her entirely and, in the meantime, he would do what he could to ensure that he had not offended his hostess.
“Lady Elton, would you care for a game?” He said, changing the subject altogether and smiling brightly at a very appreciative Lady Elton.