Page 88 of Not his Marchioness
He closed his eyes briefly and smiled. “Nathaniel was right. He told me that he and your sister would have found happiness far sooner if only they had spoken their hearts at the beginning.”
“Evelyn said the same,” Charlotte murmured. “I vowed never to make the same mistake. It seems I fell into the same trap.”
“You had good intentions,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied, placing her hand over his. “And now?”
They looked at one another, and without another word, Rhys leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.
This kiss was not so passionate as the one at the ball, nor so startling, yet it filled her with warmth and butterflies. When he drew back, the smile on his lips lit his entire countenance.
“I think we shall see where this takes us,” he said. “You must understand, this is not easy for me. My parents, my brother—their loss… it scarred me.”
“I understand,” she assured softly. “I feel much the same about my mother’s death. And though my father lives, his absence is no less a loss.”
“Indeed, it is a shame that we do not have our families as we might have wished,” he sighed. “Though it is not as though we are without. To that end, I had a thought: why not host Christmas here? It is centrally located for Evelyn and Nathaniel. We might invite your sister and aunt from Bath, Nathaniel and Evelyn, of course, and make a quiet family dinner of it. Then, the next day, we could host a larger celebration. We would invite Lady Woodhaven and her husband, the Duke of Windsor, and aselect number of other peers. If you wish, we might even invite the—what shall I call them? Therevolutionaries.”
Charlotte laughed. “Please don’t. I think the revolutionaries proved far less dreamy than I once believed. Besides, Lady Woodhaven is as radical as any of them—but do not tell her husband.”
Rhys chuckled. “Her secret is safe with me.” He mimed locking his lips.
“It is snowing again,” Charlotte noted, glancing at the window.
“So it is. Pray, would you care to walk with me? It occurs to me that we both delight in the snow, yet have not once walked in it together.”
“I would like that,” she said. “There are many things I wish we would do together.”
“Well, my dear, we are quite young, so I dare say we shall manage them all.”
“Perhaps we could even visit Italy someday.”
He smiled. “I should like that. But for now, a walk in the garden will suffice.”
He offered his arm, she took it, and together they stepped out into the snow, truly husband and wife at last.
Later that afternoon, Charlotte sat on the settee in the warm drawing room, recounting it all to Margot.
“So you are truly husband and wife now,” Margot said, wide-eyed.
“I suppose so. We walked in the garden together, and we talked about everything. He told me what vexes him about the Lords, the changes he would make. I told him about everything I wish to teach, the places I long to see. He spoke of Italy; he knows so very much about the architecture, the history—everything.”
Margot nodded, setting down her slice of plum cake. “I told you there was a spark between you from the beginning, and now it is quite a blaze.”
“Yes,” Charlotte agreed. “Though I cannot deny that something is missing—something I cannot name. It is as though he still holds back part of himself. Less so than before, but still. I know he fears losing those he loves; he has not said it outright, but it is plain enough. I do not know how to rid him of that fear, how to make him see that he will not lose everything he holds dear.”
“There is nothing you can do but give it time,” Margot advised. “He must come to see that your love is true and steadfast. That isall. You have him now—his heart, his fidelity. Though I dare say you had those long before you realized it.”
“That may be so,” Charlotte relented. “And to think, I nearly let Lord Emery plant doubts in my head.”
“Doubts?” Margot leaned forward. “Pray, what did that coxcomb say to you?”
“He insinuated that Rhys still engaged in debauchery and had merely kept it from me. That he had seen him in St. Giles and such. But I did not believe him. Father tried the same trick with Nathaniel, if you recall.”
“Oh yes. Did he not tell Evelyn he had seen Nathaniel in questionable company, indulging in unmentionable vices?”
“Precisely. Evelyn would not have credited him, had she not seen Nathaniel deep in earnest with a lady just before. She already had doubts, and they had not yet spoken their true hearts. If I had not spoken to Rhys, I might have believed Emery, too.”
“I am glad you did speak, then,” Margot said firmly. “Emery shall have no hold over you. But tell me, does his reputation not trouble you? His past?”
