Page 14 of Charming Sir Charles
She’d wanted a book, but paused before entering the library when she realized Silas and Sir Charles were in the midst of a discussion. Before she’d decided whether to interrupt or not, what she heard made her curious.
Eavesdropping was beyond the pale. And she suffered the fabled fate of eavesdroppers – she didn’t like what she heard.
She stumbled toward the drawing room. With shaking hands, she pushed open the door and said a fervent prayer of thanks to find it unoccupied. Biting her lip to stifle a sob, she shut the door behind her and rested back on it, trembling.
At last, Sir Charles had stated his intention to propose to Meg. It shouldn’t come as a surprise – it didn’t. Although his diffidence about his reception was unexpected. Sally had feared she’d been too obvious in her matchmaking, and if perhaps that had contributed to his tardiness in coming up to scratch.
Yet today, when she heard him say he’d set his sights on Meg, she wanted to die.
Because now when there was no longer any doubt that he hoped to marry her niece, Sally discovered that she wanted Sir Charles Kinglake for herself.
What a mess.
What a disaster.
And what a blind fool she’d been.
She’d survived her cold marriage by locking away her longing heart. She’d done this so successfully that she’d assumed all deeper emotion was forever banished from her life.
Whereas it turned out she was wrong, and her heart had only been sleeping. Now that understanding descended like a thunderclap, she realized her heart had clamored for her attention for weeks. But she’d been deaf to its frantic messages.
Obstinately deaf.
Any woman of sense would know that female interest sparked her pleasure in Sir Charles’s company. And see the stirrings of attraction in her erratic pulse in his presence. And know that she was constantly unhappy and restless because she wanted him.
Anyone but silly Sally Cowan, that is.
Anyone but a woman who had never known desire.
No wonder she didn’t recognize desire when it came to life.
Desire. And…love.
Because the devastating truth was that she wasn’t too old to fall in love. She loved Sir Charles more with every breath she took. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man.
And he was completely out of reach.
She gulped in a huge breath of air and placed a shaking hand over her heaving stomach. She could cry now in private. But she must put on a brave face when the engagement was announced.
She should be used to maintaining a show, after her years with Norwood, acting as if everything was fine.
But somehow this was different. Worse. Far more painful, however miserable her marriage had been. This unwelcome, overwhelming love for a man she could never have must remain her secret.
She’d always valued the easy honesty of her dealings with Sir Charles. In the eight weeks since he’d been in London, they’d become friends. Now as a mere friend, she’d assume a cheerful air when he wed Meg. Who was a lovely girl and who deserved this paragon of a man.
No doubt they’d be terrifically happy.
The idea of that terrific happiness made her want to scream.
With a choked sob, she fumbled to lock the door. Her hands were all thumbs, but she managed it at last, thank heaven. Then she staggered across the carpet and collapsed into an armchair. Useless tears burned her eyes like acid, but right now, when she needn’t pretend to be anything but bitterly unhappy, she gave way to the luxury of a good cry.
Because she was doubly shut out of paradise. Even if Sir Charles didn’t want to marry Meg, he’d never court a barren widow several years his senior. He’d want someone young and sweet – and damn it, fertile. Any man would.
She could cry now, but once she left this room, she must gather herself up. She must act as if nothing was the matter, and she was delighted the man she loved was marrying her niece. After all, she’d promoted the match from the start. Pride, duty, and affection for Meg all mandated that she held her head high and smiled and smiled and smiled.
She clenched her fists against the chair’s arms. How in the name of all that was holy could she endure it?
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