Page 18 of A Marriage Most Convenient

He shot to his feet. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Willow, you must promise me you won’t tell her.”

His sister searched his face for a minute. “If you do end up married to her, you will have to tell her eventually. You cannot begin a life together with that kind of lie hanging over your heads.”

He merely nodded. “I will do what I feel is best. Besides, Charlotte would more than likely turn me down.”

Why didn’t he want Charlotte to know the truth? It wasn’t a question he dared delve into too deeply. He only knew he couldn’t stand the knowledge that she had no affinity for him—Edmond—as he was. But when he’d put on that damned mask, she’d been attracted to him like a proverbial moth to a flame. And now they’d both been burned.

Charlotte had once again been called down to the parlor. Her mother was heartbroken, her sister had stopped speaking to her, and her father had had a string of bad days, so much so that the doctor had kept him in a fog of laudanum. Which frankly made it all worse. Why wouldn’t any of them yell at her, tell her how angry they were at her reckless behavior? It would have been easier to endure that than the quiet sadness and obvious disappointment that surrounded her.

Her steps slowed, as if walking to the executioner instead of her family’s parlor. She entered, but instead of finding any of her family members, she saw someone else entirely.

“Edmond! What are you doing here?” Her hand went to her throat. Immediately she was aware of the worn furniture and the frayed edges of the carpets. What he must think of them. Oh, and she was currently wearing her oldest—albeit most comfortable—day gown, with its faded, calico fabric and too-short hemline. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Meanwhile he looked the very picture of a handsome gentleman, dressed head-to-toe in black, except for the shock of white of his collar and shirt. She didn’t give herself anytime to pause and consider when she’d started thinking about Edmond in terms of handsomeness. There was not time for such frivolities.

“Your mother sent in some tea.” He pointed to the tray on the occasional table. “Would you like some?”

She shook her head. “I’m a terrible hostess. I should have extended that offer.”

He took a step towards her. “Willow told me.” His face revealed nothing, nor did his tone.

It was on her tongue to ask what Willow had told him, but there was no need. Evidently, there’d be no end to her humiliation. She ignored the heat in her cheeks.

It was one thing for him to read it in the papers in the privacy of his own home, but to come here and torment her. Why would Willow be so cruel? Tears pricked Charlotte’s eyes, but she clenched her jaw and swallowed hard.

“So you have come to chastise me?” she said, her voice cracking. “Or perhaps mock me?”

He visibly swallowed. His frown deepened. “No, of course not.”

In one swift movement, he was standing right in front of her. Again, she noticed his golden eyes, and something reflecting back at her. Whether pity or concern, she could not be certain. It was always so difficult to tell with him. Like his sister, he was a pinnacle of propriety, but unlike Willow, he kept his opinions mostly to himself. He had never been much of a talker, at least he wasn’t around her. She’d been privy to more than her fair share of his glowers and terse greetings.

“Charlotte, we don’t know one another all that well,” he said, as if he’d sensed her concern. He swallowed, then took a deep breath. “But you are a close friend of my sister’s and I hate to think of the gossips in town tearing you to shreds.”

She blinked rapidly and hoped he would not notice if any stray tears escaped. “Thank you for your concern,” she managed to say, but her voice sounded frail and weak. She glanced down at her worn slippers. Was this what her life was to be now? An endless parade of do-gooders coming by to bestow their pity upon her?

“Will you be my wife?”

Her head snapped up and she met his gaze. “I beg your pardon.”

He clasped her hand, his face set in steely determination. “Marry me, Charlotte.”

A wave of queasiness cut through her. She would much rather endure someone’s hatred than their pity. She wanted to ask him if his sister had put him up to this. If her dear friend had begged her brother to play the hero to save Charlotte’s reputation, but that the moment, she didn’t think she could swallow that truth.

He frowned. There was that glower she was so familiar with. His square jawline tensed.

She shook her head, willing herself not to crumble to the floor in a heap of tears. It didn’t make sense. “Then why? Why would you want me?” She stepped away from him and walked across the room. “I have no money and now my family’s good name has been tarnished. I have nothing to offer,” she said, motioning to the sparse room around them. “And I’m old.”

He shrugged. “I find myself in need of a wife.”

Leave it to Edmond to put this situation in such uncomplicated terms when everything in her life had seemed to become entirely too complex. “As simple as that, then?” she asked.

This was a gift he was offering, whatever his motives. He was presenting her a way to not only save herself from a life alone on the outskirts of Society, but his offer would salvage some of her family’s reputation. But to accept wouldn’t be fair to Edmond. She admired his endeavor to save her, it was very kind. But it was too much of a sacrifice for him to make. Still, she found herself unable to ignore her curiosity.

She cocked her head slightly, letting him know she still waited for his answer. Evidently, he was grappling for a good reason, not that she could blame him. He pitied her and was altruistic enough to try to salvage her reputation.

“You are Willow’s good friend and I have known you for years. We are not strangers, that is always a good thing for marriage. I know you will be a good wife,” he said.

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