Page 23 of The Truth about the Rogue
Her sister frowned, clearly having very little understanding as to what it was that Charlotte felt.
“I will take the carriage and then have it return here,” Charlotte continued, turning away from her sister, praying that she would make it to the carriage without a single tear falling. “Tell Mama that I have a headache or some such thing. Pray, do not tell them anything of Lord Kentmore. I will do so myself, when tomorrow comes.”
There were no words of comfort, no gentle understanding or sympathy from her sister in response to this. Instead, with a shrug, Lillian turned away and made her way back to the ballroom. Charlotte, her eyes stinging, went quickly to the door of the house, asking one of the footmen to find her carriage. As she stood there in the dark, her arms wrapped around herself, Charlotte closed her eyes and dropped her head, no longer able to hold back her tears. Her entire world had shattered in one moment, and her shame and mortification burnt so hot that it felt as though it would slice right through her. Had she not given in to the kiss, had she not lost herself in delight and wonder, then none of this would have happened. She would have disentangled herself from Lord Kentmore’s embrace long before Lillian had appeared and would, thereafter, have been kept quite free of him. She would not now find herself practically betrothed to the fellow, would not have her future set and determined.
All was now black and broken before her and yet, it was a path that Charlotte had no choice but to walk.
Chapter Eight
Andrew rubbed one hand over his face, scowled, and slammed one fist down hard on the table.
Try as he might, he could not see a way to escape this. He had stayed up almost all night, thinking about a way to remove himself from Miss Hawick, a way to say that he was no longer going to court her, nor betrothe himself to her, but the more he thought of it, the more difficult it became. Time and again, his thoughts would return to what he had seen of her as she had stood at the door of the house, waiting for her carriage.
His heart had twisted and, even now, whenever it came to mind, it did the very same again.
She had not known that he had been there, of course, else he was sure that she would never have let herself be so free in her emotions. No doubt she would have stood there, resolute, until she had finally climbed into her carriage and left him behind. She had not, however, and Andrew had been able to see the full extent of her upset. She had crumpled into herself, her arms wrapping around her waist as though she were trying to seek out some sort of comfort, her head dropping forward and quiet, tiny sobs breaking from her lips. Andrew had no doubt that she hadbeen crying, finding himself imagining the tears on her cheeks, the salt on her lips… and all because of him.
That had been – and still was – a painful truth to accept. His foolishness had been the reason for all of this, his determination to enjoy an assignation with Lady Faustine had become his one and only focus, to the point that he had lost all sense. He ought to have made certain that itwasthe lady in question who had come towards him, ought to have spoken her name at least before pulling her into his arms. Instead, he had acted on instinct and with desire, letting that pull him forward rather than choosing sense. The pain that he had obviously caused Miss Hawick cut deep into his soul, making him flood with guilt and frustration, mortified that he had behaved in such a way and, at the same time, angry with himself for what he would now have to endure.
A knock came at the door and Andrew growled for the butler to enter, only for Lord Glenfield to make his way into the room. His eyebrows lifted as he took in Andrew’s expression, though he said nothing, simply walking across the room to pour them both a measure of brandy.
“It is almost time for you to step out into society again,” he said, after settling himself into an overstuffed chair to the side of Andrew’s desk. “The soiree this evening, yes? Lord Bannington’s?”
“Yes, yes, I recall.”
His friend tilted his head.
“You left the ball very early last evening, without any sort of explanation. Are you quite all right?”
Andrew considered his answer, wondering whether he should tell his friend all, only to realize that Lord Glenfield would discover the truth, whether it was spoken now or not. Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
“Last evening, I found myself betrothed to Miss Hawick.” The silence was telling, and Andrew opened his eyes to see that his friend’s mouth had fallen open, a glaze coming into his eyes as he stared at Andrew in utter shock. “I know, I know. It was not something that I planned, as I am sure you can understand.”
“You… you are betrothed?”
Andrew sighed again, waving one hand vaguely.
“I must court her for a short time, so that thetondo not suspect that there has been something improper occur, but yes, I am to be betrothed very soon. Within a fortnight, I expect.” Lord Glenfield blinked quickly and then threw back his brandy in two gulps before staring at Andrew again. “And yes, before you ask, it was entirely my own fault. The reason I left the ball and returned to the house was so that I might try to find a way to escape this betrothal but, as yet, I have come up with very little.”
“How…” Lord Glenfield closed his eyes. “I must ask how such a thing is possible! How can it be that you are betrothed to a young lady? Andrew shook his head wordlessly, feeling shame bite down hard at him as he tried to find the words to explain. “You did something foolish, I presume?”
Nodding, Andrew swallowed hard and looked away, finding it difficult to explain to his friend what had happened without feeling overwhelmed with mortification.
“I thought she was Lady Faustine.”
“Oh.”
Closing his eyes, Andrew let out yet another sigh.
“Believing that, I captured her in my arms, only to be discovered by Miss Lillian Hawick, her sister, who then insisted that I do the honorable thing and betrothe myself to her sister.”
Lord Glenfield nodded slowly.
“Which is quite right,” he agreed, as Andrew scowled. “You cannot damage a lady’s reputation in that way and expect nothing to come of it.”
“Though, had she stepped back, had she pushed me away or fought me, then I would have known that I had made a mistake, and nothing would have come of it!” Andrew exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table again. “I–”
“You are not about to blame the young lady herself for this, I hope?”
