“We might find something at Beswick that tells us whether she left with the Viscount, and where they have gone, such as a noteleft for me or a forwarding address with the agent,” Charlotte spoke with optimism.
She reached across the narrow space between them to stroke Seth’s arm. He forced a smile, wanting now to appear roguish and insouciant in order to reassure Charlotte.
I do not want her to feel responsible for this. It is not her fault but my father’s. I will not allow this to come between us.
“What will be, will be,” Seth declared. “I meant every word I said.”
“You do not have to pretend with me. I know it must be eating away at you to be so close and yet so far away from your goals,” she murmured.
Seth squeezed her hand, leaning from the saddle to kiss her temple.
“I will make this well,” she sighed with determination. “If you will not write to Monkton, then I will.”
Seth said nothing and simply looked at her. There was a magnificent fierceness in her eyes that he had never seen before, not in any other woman.
“Would I be so attractive to you with nothing but the clothes I am wearing?” he asked.
Charlotte frowned, almost drawing her horse to a halt.
“Of course. What makes you ask? Do you worry that if everything goes wrong, I will no longer wish to be with you?”
He shrugged. “You seem more determined than I to ensure my Dukedom is not lost.”
She shook her head. “It simply would not be fair. The clause itself is unfair. You should be free to choose. If you were a woman being forced into marriage, I would be just as angry. I want you to be angry too!”
Seth regarded her solemnly. “I refused to fight another man to prove my word against his. Would you have had me fight Tewkesbury?”
“No, not that. Not literally.” She sighed. “We will resolve this. I promise you.”
“You cannot fix everyone’s problems, Charlotte,” Seth chuckled lowly, “your cousin Reginald believes he needs to buy himself a wife. Your cousins believe they need another’s opinion to be confident in their clothing. You sought to aid your sister’s relationship with me. When do you do something only for yourself?”
Charlotte blushed. “I can be selfish at times,” she said quietly.
“Really? When?” he asked.
Her blush deepened until she shone like the sun. She looked away, and he reached across to catch her chin, lifting it and gazing into her eyes.
“I think I know what you are thinking of,” he murmured.
“You do?” she whispered.
“You think of those times when we have lain together, and I have worshipped your body, thinking only of your pleasure.”
She bit her lip. “I could think of nothing but my own selfish pleasure. I should have been thinking of you. The act of love is supposed to be mutual. Yet, I could not think of anything but what you were making me feel…”
He laughed gruffly. “That was the greatest pleasure you could grant me.”
“I cannot believe that,” she muttered, biting her lip.
“Believe it. I would not say it otherwise.”
They turned a bend in the lane and saw a building ahead and below them. The lane wound into a gentle dell, and at its bottom was a stone building of ecclesiastical character, complete with a spire at one end. They could see activity outside, furniture being brought out and taken inside, the movement of men loaded like packmules being conducted by a man who stood in their midst and gesticulated.
“Beswick Priory,” Charlotte exhaled at last.
“It looks like the move is in full sway,” Seth deduced. “Let us hope there is something left behind that shows where they’ve gone.”
The man orchestrating the others stopped as he saw Charlotte. He snatched a flat cap from his head and hurried over to her, directing glares at the other men as he did.
