Page 40 of Charming Sir Charles
“She said a couple of hours.” He bit out each word. “But it must be getting near midnight.”
“What time is it?”
With an uncharacteristically jerky step, he crossed to pick up his coat and fish out his pocket watch. “A quarter to eight.”
She’d imagined it was later. She felt like she’d lived through an entire lifetime since Meg had stolen away in Charles’s curricle.
“I hope she’s all right.” It was almost a relief to think about Meg, instead of two broken hearts and the desolate future. “What did she say to you about what she planned?”
“Nothing. This prank took me as much by surprise as it did you.” He sent her a grim glance. “And I don’t care whether you believe that. It’s the truth.”
She’d always been conscious of the difference in their ages. But right now, he looked old and tired in a way she’d never seen before. Guilt stabbed her that her sinful weakness for him had brought about this misery.
“Of course I believe you,” she said in a small voice, hating how she hurt him. “I’m sorry, Charles. I’m sorry for everything.”
“So am I.”
His flat tone opened a new rift in her heart. She was under no illusions how the loss of his friendship would devastate her. From the beginning, his companionship had enriched her life. Now she’d lost his regard, and she wanted to sit down and cry like an abandoned child.
“This will probably be our last chance for a private discussion.” Charles still spoke with scrupulous courtesy, so that every word hit her like a bullet. “If there are…consequences from this afternoon, will you tell me?”
“Yes,” she said almost soundlessly. “But I’m sure you’re safe.”
Anger tightened his features, deepened the lines between his nose and mouth, but his response emerged with more frigid politeness. “I won’t have any child of mine born without knowing its father.”
She bit her lip so hard, she drew blood and told herself that it was better this way. One clean cut, and all temptation was excised from her life.
But it didn’t feel better. It felt like someone hacked off her leg with a blunt knife, leaving her crippled forever. “You’re an honorable man, Charles. I never thought you were anything else.”
His mouth was a long thin line, and that muscle danced in his cheek again, proof of strong emotion. “I don’t feel honorable right now.”
She looked away and blinked back another surge of acrid tears. “I know,” she whispered. “But you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Whereas she, through her selfishness, had made him hellishly unhappy. She prayed the wound wasn’t mortal. She wished she could doubt the depth of his misery, but it was impossible. When he said he loved her, he meant it.
She curled her fingers into her palms until the nails scored her skin. “I…I’d really like to be alone for a little while.”
“There are beds upstairs.” He still sounded like a stranger.
“No, I’d rather wait down here,” she muttered, as the memory of how he’d swept her up in his arms flashed through her mind. He’d been so hungry for her, he hadn’t taken the time to find a bedroom. For heaven’s sake, they’d both been so lost to passion, they hadn’t even undressed.
No, she couldn’t dwell on those heated, transforming moments. That way lay madness.
“I’ll go into the next room,” he said.
“No…” She reached out to stop him, before she remembered she’d lost the right to touch him.
The gaze he leveled upon her was distant. “I’d prefer that, if you don’t mind.”
She braced against his coldness. He sounded worse than a stranger. He sounded like he hated her.
“I’ll see if I can find us something to eat. I know there’s some brandy in the cellars.”
The thought of food made her gag. “No, thank you.”
“Would you like a fire?”
“No, no, it’s a warm night.” His attempts to ensure her wellbeing made her want to scream.
