Page 36 of Wager on Love

“In love?” Jane questioned gently.

Charlotte fixed her newest sister with a serious stare. “He loves me, Jane. He nearly said as much. And not just for my fortune, or even my appearance. I believe he truly loves me for who I am, and it is a wonderful lifting sort of knowledge. I wanted him to kiss me.”

“I do understand, you know,” Jane said fondly, clearly thinking of her own courtship.

“Please do not tell Ruddy,” Charlotte said abruptly.

“He will be glad for you,” Jane argued.

“Nonetheless,” Charlotte begged. “You must not tell him that I kissed Sir John! Randolph would never understand.” Charlotte shook her head.

Jane just smiled enigmatically, as if she disagreed with this assessment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Charlotte protested.

“I am terribly glad for you, as well, Charlotte,” Jane said. ”Do you return his love?”

Charlotte considered, staring down into her cup of tea as if it held the answer. “I believe I do, in spite of how cautious I have felt in recent days. I realized when we saw him looking so ill at the concert last night how quick I was to think the worst of him, or any other suitor. It is unreasonable, and I certainly will not have that horrid business with Lord Marley dictate my thoughts and actions in such a way any longer. Lord Marley was one man. Sir John is another. I cannot compare the two.”

“How very sensible of you. Iampleased to hear it. All the same, you must be cautious, and perhaps a bit more discrete. Allowing Sir John to kiss you so openly was dangerous. It would not do to have a scandal of any sort mar your new relationship.”

“No, you are right. I never understood before how a girl could be so foolish as to throw away her good reputation, but I see it all too clearly now. In the moment, all my sensible thoughts flew away like birds. All I could think of was what it would feel like to be kissed.” Charlotte drew the words out with a sigh. “Is that not terribly scandalous?”

“Perhaps. But after all, if a gentleman does not at leasttemptyou to throw away your good reputation, he most likely is not the one you should marry,” Jane laughed conspiratorially.

“Jane!” Charlotte said shocked.

“I will leave it at that for now, but if you do plan to let him steal kisses, I would suggest somewhere less visible to strangers. The library perhaps.” Jane winked at Charlotte and Charlotte found the heat of a blush rising in her face.

“I shall be more careful,” Charlotte promised, and then she sneezed heartily.

“I suppose catching a cold is one way to guard your virtue for a time, although it certainly does not seem the most pleasant of strategies,” Jane remarked solemnly.

“I amnotcatching cold,” returned Charlotte firmly. “But it would be lovely if you could have some more tea brought in.”

* * *

16

In another part of London, Sir John Ashbrooke was now pacing Lord Henderson’s apartments with great agitation. He had gone straight there after leaving the Keening’s townhome, not even stopping to change out of his wet clothes.

“I do believe I am losing my mind,” he exclaimed, frustrated. He ran a hand through his disheveled dark hair.

“You certainly appear to be,” Lord Henderson remarked in a calm voice, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle that his friend presented.

“You might too, if everything you believed to be true was turned on its head in a mere matter of days.”

Lord Henderson only smiled at his friend.

“There is no need to look so smug,” Sir John continued. “I came here because I thought you were the least likely of our circle of friends to mock me. I can hardly speak to Lord Edward, he would only say he knew it all along, which would be most insufferable.”

“I am far from mocking you, Ashbrooke,” Lord Henderson protested. “But you have not actually told me what is troubling you. If you burst into a fellow’s home, near dripping wet, and tear about like a caged tiger, you may reasonably expect to encounter a bit of confusion.”

“You are right. I cannot think straight. That is the problem. Well no, it is a symptom of the problem. The real problem is that I have been wrong all this time.”

“Wrong about what, exactly?” Henderson questioned.

“Women. Love. Everything. Oh, confound it. I am starting to believe that romantic love may exist after all, as I am confronted with what must be evidence of it everywhere I turn. Sheisn’tthe same as every other woman, Henderson, no matter how I might try and convince myself otherwise.”

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