Chapter Thirty-Six
As Charlotte struggled to convince her stomach that it really did need toasted muffins and marmalade, she marveled at the sudden brilliance of her future.
She’d never been happier than in Rafe’s arms. Not even the bright sunlit days of childhood, when she was carefree and blissfully ignorant of Papa’s execrable profession, could compare with the golden glow that engulfed her now. She’d had no idea of the skills men had to offer a woman when it came to the pleasures of the flesh.
Her whole body felt new-forged, alive as a fresh bloom opening to the sun, ready to accept whatever benison the world had to offer. Now that she’d had a taste of what it felt like to be with a man, she had no qualms about surrendering her virginity in the marriage bed.
To be wed to an earl was more than she could ever have hoped for, or thought possible. Mama and Aunt Flora would certainly benefit from it socially—so long as Flora didn’t decide to run off with that traveling doctor of hers.
Charlotte still didn’t quite believe she’d be lucky enough to have a happy ending. Her past would be a problem, even for an earl’s wife. Especially for an earl’s wife. The ton was unforgiving. Rafe knew that better than anyone. Once the tongues started wagging, would he really think she was worth going through all that again? After he’d worked so hard to redeem himself since his own fall from grace? True, his acceptance back into Society hadn’t happened yet, but it would, once his role in capturing the traitorous Culverdale and foiling the French plot was publicly revealed. Of that, she had no doubt. He would be a hero.
Would a hero of the realm truly want a wife who was but a stone about his neck? Yes, he’d treated her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, and told her he loved her. But once he thought it through, surely he would withdraw his offer?
Dabbing her lips with a napkin, her heart sank. Even if he did the honorable thing and married her, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t return to his rakish ways afterward, feeling trapped in a marriage with a social outcast.
Not to mention, if he continued acting as a spy, she’d spend all her days in continual fear for his safety.
She pushed back her chair, worked the pump handle a few times to rinse off her breakfast things, and set them on the wooden board to dry. When she heard a masculine step in the doorway, she spun round, expecting Rafe. Bursting to pummel him with questions and doubts.
But it was Justin.
He stalked into the room with a rigid back and eyes like flint. He took up position an unfriendly distance away from her, bristling with disapproval.
“So, you’ve thrown your lot in with Seabourne. I’d thought better of you. Papa was right when he warned me about you. He saw faults that I, blinded by love, did not. I suppose I must congratulate myself on a lucky escape.”
Hurt seared through her. She dropped her plate in consternation and it clattered down on the draining board. She’d expected a tirade, but not heartless insults.
“And I must congratulate myself likewise,” she said quietly, “for escaping the clutches of a foolhardy, rude, disloyal, and immature boy. I, too, was blinded. I’m glad my eyes have opened to your true nature.”
His face paled. “That was uncalled for.”
Unclenching her fists, she took a step toward him. “I’m sorry, but I disagree. I regret you had to find out this way, and I understand you’re shocked and hurt. But Rafe and I have been drawing closer for some time, and yesterday’s dramatic events rather tipped the balance. We are to be married.”
“Indeed?” Justin lifted a mocking eyebrow. “I see no betrothal ring. But perhaps he’s too poor to afford one. I cannot imagine the wages of a spy are much more than a common soldier’s. I never imagined you could like such a person, Charlotte. You’ve truly disappointed me.”
Not afford a ring? She almost laughed. “You don’t know him as I do. He’s courageous, principled, and steadfast. Perhaps rather overbearing at times, but I know him to be sincere. And he loves me.”
Justin turned toward the door. His voice shook with emotion as he said, “I don’t wish to hear another man’s virtues extolled by my former fiancée, thank you. If you’re ready, we’ll leave now, and we can be out of each other’s way for good.”
That hurt. “Don’t be like this,” she begged, hastening across to put a hand on his arm. “Can’t we at least part as friends?”
He picked up her shawl from the hallstand. “Is this yours?” he asked, refusing to look at her.
“Yes. I’ll just say farewell to Rafe.”
“He already left. His business is evidently more important to him than you are. I would never have treated you so cavalierly.”
Justin’s attitude was so frustrating. Would he think any better of her choice if he knew who Rafe really was? But it wasn’t her secret to tell. And honestly, his social standing shouldn’t matter. Character was character, regardless of one’s class. Clearly, Justin had a way to go in that regard.
“It’s not for you to judge him,” she said. “His main concern must be to protect the realm. I’m quite content to take second place for now.”
“As am I,” was Justin’s stiff response. “But I still say you’re making a grave mistake with him.”
“Tell me,” she said as she closed the front door of the farmhouse, “how many of your objections arise from mere jealousy? We were forbidden one another and obliged to move on, Justin. I swear I never set out to hurt you.”
He strode across the worn cobbles of the lane, and she followed after. The wind that whipped at her skirts brought with it a breath of autumn, and she pulled her shawl more tightly around her.
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Of course I’m jealous! What kind of man would I be if I were not? I know I’m indebted to both you and Seabourne, but I still think it an unsuitable match. He’ll break your heart, mark my words.”
“You have no evidence of that,” she pointed out; though, hadn’t she been thinking much the same thing just moments ago? “The fact you don’t like him is not a valid reason.”
“Think!” Justin said, stopping and turning to her. “Think how little you know of him. His entire world is filled with secrecy and deception. How can you be sure he’s being honest with you, and not just slaking his lust? He won’t be the first man to have duped a vulnerable young female, and he won’t be the last.”
Her temper threatened to boil over. How twisted Fate could be! Not so very long ago, she couldn’t have imagined being near Justin without wanting to throw herself into his embrace. Nor could she have imagined being so frustrated with him. She wanted to shake him.
“I may be young,” she said crisply, “but I don’t consider myself vulnerable. I learned a hard lesson when you were exiled. I’ve grown up since then. Rafe has been as honest with me as he could. The only things he didn’t tell me were about his job.”
“But what do you actually know about him? His history, his family, his amours, his prospects? Can he keep you comfortably? Is he honorable? Is he a man of his word? And what kind of life would it be for you as the wife of a spy? You would be permanently trapped in a lie, afraid to speak for fear of giving something away to the wrong person. You’d be expected to deceive your friends, your family—”
“Wrong.” She held up her hands. “Mama and Aunt Flora know exactly who, and what, he is. We had to tell them when I accidentally got him shot and had to bring him home to care for.”
“You got him shot?” Justin seized her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “See? You’re meddling in dangerous affairs. I imagine you could just as easily have been shot yourself. The events of yesterday make it clear that Seabourne’s marked for death. You could end up a widow within a week.”
She shivered. The same thought had occurred to her. But when the traitors were rounded up, all would be well.
She drew herself up. “Be fair! His life wouldn’t have been in danger had you not stormed out and left him alone.”
Justin gave a frustrated grunt. Releasing her shoulders, he set off again at a bruising pace, and it was as much as she could do to keep up with him.
“It’s unfair of you to tax me with that,” he threw back over his shoulder. “It was you we quarreled over. I was only looking after your best interests.”
“To the detriment of your country? I hope you’ll never do anything so foolish again.”
“And I hope you won’t be so foolish as to ally yourself—however briefly—with a lonely, desperate man. If you change your mind, I’ll still be here for you.”
Lonely? Desperate? Rafe might have felt so when ostracized from polite society for his ignominious departure from the army. But desperate? Never. All his courageous actions since then belied that notion.
Lonely and desperate had been far more applicable to her after the elopement debacle—locked away in her room like Deirdriu in a tower, with her prince banished and nothing to sustain her but memories.
Much as she hated the idea, was Justin close to the truth, just about the wrong person? Rafe had overshadowed her entire horizon and occupied her every waking thought. Had her loneliness, her desperation, catapulted her into his arms? Ought she to prolong their courtship until she knew him better? Until she’d seen what sort of peer he was, how he spent his days, how he entertained his friends, and how he treated his tenants and servants? She couldn’t bear to be united with someone who had no time for those of a lower class, or didn’t care for the poor or the elderly, or found children a nuisance.
Of course, this entire discussion might be moot, should her fears be realized and he came to his senses regarding her stained past, and withdrew his offer of marriage.
Justin slowed his pace. “I can see my words have struck home,” he said. His voice softened as he added, “Just promise me you won’t do anything rash.”
“How people love to treat me as a child and tell me what to do,” she said crossly. “When will everyone finally realize I’m grown up? Just because I can’t swish a sword or give someone a bloody nose, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. It’s vexing.”
“Then I’ll say no more. But before your opinion of me declines still further,” Justin added, “I assure you I will keep the secret of Seabourne’s mission. And of the nature of your…association.”
They’d reached the cottage. The sky was dark and the sun still well below the horizon. Thankfully, no lights shone through the drapes, and there was nothing to suggest any of the household were up yet.
She took Justin’s hand and pressed it between her own. “Will you try and find it in your heart to forgive me? I never expected things to turn out this way. I still care for you deeply and pray we may remain friends. There are plenty of other young women out there ready to fall at the feet of a handsome young man with blue eyes and poetry in his soul.”
He hung his head, not looking at her, and her heart felt raw. He took her hand and kissed it gallantly before turning away and hastening back the way they’d come.
The crisp chill of the early autumn morning echoed her mood as she unlocked the door and entered the silent house. Avoiding the treads that creaked, she made her way to her bedchamber where she stripped off her clothes and got into her nightgown.
She thought of Rafe, out in the wilds with his men hunting for traitors and smugglers, and forced herself to believe he was in no danger.
But she’d not be able to rest until his assignment was over and they were safely wed. Only then would she feel secure in the knowledge that he was entirely hers, and the duties that might take him from her side were not potentially fatal.
Rolling over, she closed her eyes and prayed that sleep would put an end to her fears.
But it did not.
So she deliberately filled her mind with the pleasant memories of Rafe’s touch, the image of his well-honed body, and the words of love he had spoken.
Which only brought a whole other avalanche of fears to her tormented mind.
Thus, she was still awake when Jenny arrived at the cottage to light the stove and start preparing the breakfast. In the next room, Aunt Flora started clonking about as she prepared for the day. Moments later, the door closed and she heard her aunt make her way downstairs.
With a sigh, Charlotte lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She may as well admit defeat and get up.
A muffled sound of voices came up from the kitchen, followed by footsteps clattering up the stairs. A rapid knocking on her door had her up in an instant. She swung it open to reveal a flustered-looking Aunt Flora.
“Whatever’s the matter?” she asked.
“Jenny’s just arrived and told me she heard in the village that the Earl of Beckport is known to be staying in the area under the alias of Mr. Rafe Seabourne and living at Dovehouse Farm. If everybody knows it’s him, won’t that prejudice his mission?”
Charlotte felt the blood drain from her face. Rafe’s presence was known? Her pulse sped. Now his mission would be even more treacherous.
If word reached Lord Culverdale, it would put Rafe in serious danger.
She had to think of something, fast, to save the man she loved!