The counterfeit attachme.., p.26
The Counterfeit Attachment, page 26
A footman appeared before him. He abruptly stopped and the footman spun out of his way, narrowly avoiding a collision. Edmund murmured his apologies. The servant grunted and continued down the hall. After a moment, Edmund realized he was near the library. The door stood open, and he heard the murmur of feminine voices.
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
There was only one way to get his answers. He would simply have to ask her.
Twenty-Nine
Sir Joseph Banks had an impressive library with high shelves filled with red leather books and plant specimens. At any other time, Charity would’ve been in awe as Miss Sarah detailed the collection, but she could not attend now.
Glenhaven was leaving in a fortnight. He was leaving earlier and had not told her. Even after she laid out her ridiculous betrothal scheme, he had not mentioned his impending departure. No wonder he had suggested amendments. She did not believe his protest about delays and details. Of course Mother had been upset. He was leaving in a fortnight!
It would appear to everyone that Glenhaven had been trifling with her. The damage to her reputation was nothing to the real betrayal she felt. Concealing his plans was a breach of trust. Why had he not told her? Why had he asked to court her if he was just going to leave?
How ridiculous she must have appeared to those smirking men around Sir Joseph. All of them knew more about his arrangements than her. All of them knew she was about to be discarded. Though, Sir Joseph had hinted that Glenhaven might not go to America.
Would he stay?
Was that what she wanted?
“Miss Radforde,” Miss Sarah called.
Charity turned from staring blankly at a shelf of books. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Miss Sarah shook her head. Though older, the woman did not have a motherly air. She crossed to Charity’s side.
“You really must not take anything my brother says to heart. You know these great men, their manners are always wanting.”
Charity nodded, not trusting herself to give a neutral answer. Sir Joseph had done his best to humiliate her and she would not forgive him merely because of his illustrious achievements. Penelope’s scowl at Miss Sarah’s back told Charity that at least her friend understood.
Miss Sarah continued her defense.
“And you must understand that he meets with many ambitious young men. Far too many spend years talking of explorations that never come to fruition.” Miss Sarah held up her hand to forestall Charity’s protest. “I know you believe that Mr. Glenhaven is different. I feel the same. He has a very bright future. It is a pity you met him so young.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Charity crossed her arms.
“He is a man unformed, on the brink of great accomplishments. The next few years will be consumed with his work. Such men cannot be husbands or lovers. They must give everything to their calling. Surely you understand that?”
“I had not considered—that is, surely where there is true affection…” Charity could not quite gather her thoughts.
“Affection makes it all the worse. Such feelings are a distraction for the man and a source of pain for the woman. Did you know Sir Joseph had an understanding with a woman when he departed on his round the world voyage? The poor girl was miserable for years while he was away. Then he returned, and they were practically strangers. All that heartache for nothing.” Miss Sarah shook her head.
“Oh,” Charity replied.
“I do not mean to overstep, but if I were your mother, I would advise you to give up the connection. Let him depart free of all ties. Only then can he soar to the heights he is meant for.”
Charity could not immediately reply. Was she really holding Glenhaven down?
Penelope filled the silence. “We are grateful for your insight. Your experience in this matter is invaluable.”
Miss Sarah brightened. “It is the rare young woman that can admit their own ignorance. Far too many rush into imprudent marriages.”
“Perhaps they do not realize that being unwed has its advantages.” Penelope said.
“Indeed, I have found much joy in a life with no husband.” Miss Sarah smiled. “Not all have the temperament or means to be a spinster. But I suspect Miss Radforde, you would find it a rewarding existence.”
Weeks ago, Charity might have eagerly told Miss Sarah of her plans to set up her own establishment, but she could not muster her former enthusiasm. Since speaking with Glenhaven atop the pagoda, her hopes for the future had begun to transform like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.
Miss Sarah’s eyes slid past Charity to the door. “Mr. Glenhaven, bored of my brother already?”
Charity spun to see Glenhaven standing in the doorway. Their gazes met. He raised his eyebrows in a question she could not understand. Unable to muster a smile, she looked away.
“Miss Sarah, Mrs. Aston, I wish to speak privately with Miss Radforde.” His tone was measured and firm, but she detected something else.
She returned her gaze to him. He stood ramrod straight with his hands pulled behind him, a posture she knew reflected a nervous uncertainty.
What did he wish to say? Was it amendments to her scheme or a break? Charity’s stomach twisted. She was not ready for the conversation. After Miss Sarah’s advice, she needed time to think.
“I’m certain you have much to say,” Miss Sarah replied with an arch smile.
“But I cannot allow it,” Penelope added.
At being denied, Charity did not feel relief. Somehow the thought of not speaking with him was worse.
“I am afraid I must insist,” he said with quiet authority.
“You insist?” Penelope’s voice rose slightly.
“Come now, Mrs. Aston,” Miss Sarah intervened. “There is no harm in allowing them a few moments alone. We shall stand watch outside the door.” She turned to Glenhaven. “Speak quickly. Any hint of impropriety and you will answer for it.”
Glenhaven inclined his head in acknowledgement. Penelope looked to Charity. Her friend would not let the older woman dictate anything. If Charity asked, Penelope would whisk her away. Instead, she gave her a pleading look.
Penelope bit her bright red lips and turned to Glenhaven.
“Only a few moments,” she said sternly.
Miss Sarah smiled and linked arms with Penelope. Mr. Glenhaven waited at the door and closed it behind them.
As her stomach erupted in flutters, Charity tried to recite the classification for butterflies. She could not recall. She knew the kingdom was animalia and the order was lepidoptera but all else was a jumble.
She swallowed. How long would he be silent? How much time did they have?
He took a step forward and paused. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“Miss Radforde, this morning you spoke of an advantageous arrangement. I understand that you thought a pretend betrothal would suit your purposes, but they will not suit mine.”
Ice water dripped through her veins.
“I understand. You are leaving. Such entanglements will only hinder your work.” Her vision blurred and she turned to the shelves to avoid his stare.
“You don’t understand.”
Footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor, but she did not turn around.
“I understand that you have an expedition to lead and a grand future ahead.”
“I want no part of a future that does not include you.”
Had she had misheard him? She turned. He was only steps away. His hazel eyes glowed with affection. She caught her breath.
“Miss Radforde.” He moved closer. “Charity.”
Her name was like a caress. She stepped toward him, and he met her, only inches separating them.
“Please allow me to make your lie true. Be my wife?”
The butterflies were suddenly everywhere, flapping about her heart and in her head. Her thoughts scattered at their flight.
He wished to marry her? Not feign a betrothal, but truly be united as man and wife?
It could not be true.
And yet, he had never lied to her.
“But you are leaving in a fortnight.”
He shook his head. “No. Sir Joseph was misinformed. I am staying here, with you.” He grasped her hand in both of his and looked down at them. “That is, if you will have me?”
He was so close, his touch ignited a fire that threatened to burn away all rational thought. He was staying? He was staying and wished to marry?
“I—Mr. Glenhaven…”
“Edmund,” he murmured.
She took in a shuddering breath and dropped her gaze. It fell on their hands. How would it be to hold his hand through life?
“What of your expedition? The Linnean Society? Your ambitions?” Would he really sacrifice all his dreams for her?
“I don’t wish to speak of that. I only care about your answer to my very simple question.”
His hands pressed hers. It was an anchor in her storm of emotions. Was it a simple question? It felt enormously complicated. But the warmth of his hand and the nearness of him made the difficulties shrink. She met his steady gaze and found herself leaning forward.
Edmund was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him. This time there would be no interruption.
“Yes, yes,” she said. His lips found hers.
The riot of sensations obliterated every other thought. He released her hand only to grasp her neck and pull her closer. Warmth enveloped her as they pressed together. Her hands found his hair was softer than she expected. The moment stretched into hours but was over too soon. When their lips parted, she had no notion how long they had embraced.
Warm and languid, Charity felt as if she had fallen asleep in the summer sun. With a stuttering breath, she opened her eyes and met Edmund’s bright hazel gaze. The tenderness she found there stopped any words she might have uttered. His thumb traced her cheekbone, sending a shiver of anticipation through her.
There was much to say, but she had no appetite for conversation. She hungered for his embrace, his lips on hers and her hands in his hair. As she swayed, closing the small distance between them, a knock sounded.
“Your time has expired,” Miss Sarah called as she pushed the door open.
Like a startled rabbit, Charity jumped away from Edmund. As one they turned to the door. Miss Sarah’s lips turned up slightly and Penelope glowered.
Charity’s cheeks burned and she ducked her head. Could one tell a person has been kissed just by looking at them? She glanced at Edmund. His hair was in slight disarray, his cheeks pink, lips a little shiny, but he stood straight with a neutral expression.
“Ladies,” he inclined his head. “I appreciate…”
“Not another word,” Penelope said with clipped precision. “I will not be thanked for helping you ruin my charge.”
“Pen! That is—”
“Really, Mrs. Ast—”
“Enough!” Miss Sarah cut Charity and Edmund off. “I will not have a melodrama in my brother’s library. Sir, fix your hair and rejoin the other guests. I will stay with the ladies for an appropriate amount of time. Then you might all depart and quarrel in the carriage if you wish.”
Miss Sarah’s tone brooked no argument. Edmund was surreptitiously flattening his hair before she had finished her instructions. Charity wanted to help him but knew better than to try. Instead she mouthed an apology. He flashed her a lopsided smile that made her knees weak.
For the first time Charity understood why Penelope ran away with Mr. Aston. The desire to be with Edmund, to take his hand, to kiss him, it was unlike any she had ever experienced. Even with Penelope and Miss Sarah there, she longed to return to his arms.
Did he feel the same pull? She could read nothing in his perfunctory bow, he did not even meet her eyes. She followed his progress as he left the room, ignoring the other two ladies until he disappeared.
“Well, I see you did not take my advice,” Miss Sarah said.
A small smile played on Charity’s lips. “I confess, I did not.”
“Fool,” Penelope muttered.
Charity pretended she had not heard. She did not wish to fight and banish the happy glow that filled her. Edmund was to be her husband. The lie had become truth. Her future would be beside him. It was all too wonderful to comprehend.
“Mrs. Aston’s anger is unwarranted, but she is not wrong in her assessment,” Miss Sarah said.
“Unwarranted?” Penelope exclaimed.
“Young people must have their little larks.” The older lady waved her hand dismissively. “A quick embrace does not ruin a girl, but marrying a man that will someday resent her for holding him back…”
Charity shook her head. She did not wish to listen to Miss Sarah’s opinions. What did an old spinster know of affairs of the heart? What did she know of Edmund or his future feelings? Their marriage would not be poisoned by resentment. Edmund was not so petty.
Their union would be a happy one. Charity was sure of it.
Thirty
A warm breeze tickled Edmund’s face as the open carriage rolled toward Russell Square. So much had changed since they had walked this same street only an hour before. He did not feel the bumps of the road now. It was as if he floated in a hot air balloon—weightless and free from the worries of the world.
This euphoria was directly related to Charity sitting beside him. Their shoulders brushing, their eyes meeting and then darting away all heightened his joy. She had accepted his hand. Miss Charity Radforde would be his wife. He wished to declare it to the world. He wished they were still alone in the library.
Mrs. Aston watched them with hard eyes and wrinkled nose—as if she smelled something rotten—and contributed little to the conversation. Kit was valiantly attempting to entertain them with a story about a monkey on their ship, but Edmund wasn’t listening. He suspected nobody was.
The short ride from Soho Square came to an end as the carriage stopped gently in front of Radforde House. Edmund had never been so disappointed to arrive at his destination.
Mrs. Aston spoke. “It would be best if you did not call for a few days.”
“What?” Edmund couldn’t hide his surprise. He glanced at Charity, but she looked equally confused.
“It would be best,” Mrs. Aston repeated firmly. She turned and accepted the footman’s offered hand.
Kit looked between them, lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.
Charity leaned toward Edmund. “Don’t worry. Once I explain, all will be well.”
Edmund glanced at Kit. His brother was pointedly looking out toward the square.
“So may I call tomorrow?” he whispered as he covertly took her hand.
She bit her lip. “Perhaps a few days would be best. Mother needs more convincing.”
“Convincing?”
“She is only concern—”
“Charity,” Mrs. Aston interrupted.
Charity sighed and offered an apologetic smile with a squeeze of his hand. In a moment she would be gone and there was still so much to discuss between them.
“I’ll miss you,” she murmured.
She released his hand, twisted away, and climbed from the carriage.
He watched her as she entered her home. She snuck several glances before the door closed on her. The balloon Edmund had been riding in began a rapid descent, worries pressed upon him now that they were parted.
What did it mean that Mrs. Radforde needed convincing? Charity had said at their first dinner that she would marry higher than a third son with a dull profession. Was that Mrs. Radforde’s opinion?
The carriage jolted into motion and pulled Edmund from his thoughts. Across from him, Kit cocked his head.
“I know that something of import has happened, but I cannot make out just what it might be. I would wish you joy, but I am not sure it’s the right sentiment, given your frown.”
Edmund shook his head to dislodge the unpleasant thoughts. Now was not the time for such musings.
“You may wish me joy. Miss Radforde has consented to be my wife.” Saying the words aloud made them real and Edmund could not stop a smile from splitting open his face.
Kit gave a whoop that caused several pedestrians to stare at their passing carriage. He reached out and slapped Edmund’s shoulder.
“Congratulations. Marvelous news. Sophy will be so pleased. When is the wedding?”
“I hardly know. We were interrupted before we could discuss particulars. I have not even written to her father.”
“A formality I am sure you will soon perform.”
Edmund swallowed thickly. What would he write to Mr. Radforde? He hardly knew the man and Charity had not shared much about him. Edmund didn’t even know where to address the letter.
“Would you like my help? One thing I learned in the Navy was how to write a good letter.”
The jest brought a small smile to Edmund’s face. “Perhaps.”
The offer was kind, but Edmund didn’t think Kit’s experience extended to this style of letter. It was the type that a person only wrote once. At least Edmund hoped he would only have to write it once. Would Mr. Radforde agree with his wife or his daughter? A new type of nervousness coiled in Edmund’s belly as he considered what he might say to convince the man of his worthiness.
Thus distracted, he barely marked their journey home. The stop of the carriage and Kit’s gentle teasing made almost no impression. It was only when they entered the sitting room that he began to focus on the present.
“You’re back!” Sophy cried. “How was the breakfast? Did Miss Radforde enjoy it? Did she speak to all the important men?” She put aside her needlework and slid forward in her chair.
“Peace, little sister.” Kit held up his hands as if to physically fend off her inquiries. “Allow us to sit before you bombard us with questions.”
Sophy made a face but kept silent as they greeted Mama. Kit made a big show of walking around the room and inspecting each seat while Sophy dramatically tapped her foot. Edmund settled into the chair beside their mother.
