‘Because she has been loath to tell me. And before things progress any further...’ God, had he actually said that? He must hope that, of all the things Miss Charity understood, they did not include how near he and her sister were to the point of no return.
He took a breath and tried again. ‘Is she seeking a man with a title? Is it the rank that is important to her? Is it the money?’
‘You want to know if another sort of man might have hope of marrying my sister?’
She paused, as if waiting to see how much he was willing to admit. When he said nothing, she continued. ‘She has, on at least one occasion, warned me against snobbery and suggests that I emulate our own parents’ humble behaviour.’
‘That is good to know,’ he said, trying not to be too encouraged.
‘Given our difficulties, neither of my sisters considered it possible to marry for love. Faith sought money, but Hope is more concerned with security. The new Earl is the only man she can think of who would give that to the whole family.’
‘But if all three of you are both safe and financially secure?’
‘And free from prosecution or censure for playing fast and loose with the entail,’ Charity added.
‘Of course,’ he agreed.
‘Then I should think she would be more concerned with her own happiness than my future,’ Charity said. ‘I have been awaiting that moment for as long as I can remember. And if you are wondering if I approve of you as a future brother-in-law...’
‘I did not ask that,’ he said hurriedly.
‘The situation is purely hypothetical,’ she reminded him. ‘If she did not feel the need to marry Comstock, I see no reason that she might marry an untitled gentleman as Faith did. Or even someone in trade, should she have affection for him. A man such as yourself, for instance. And now, if you will excuse me, I have much reading to finish before supper.’
Chapter Twelve
After she had been banished from the library, Hope found a maid to prepare the room for Mr Drake. Then she set about replacing the items that they had found in London. The candlesticks went to their place at the very centre of the long dining table where they provided light on the days when only the family was home to eat and good silver was not necessary.
The inkwell went on the left corner of the desk, for her grandfather had been left-handed. But suppose Miles Strickland favoured his right? Hope stared at it for a second, pondering the need for a move, and decided it would remain where it was. Anything else looked wrong to her.
The portrait required the help of the two footmen still at the manor. While Grandfather might have thought it belonged behind a door, it annoyed her to see the succession out of order. This required moving Comstocks numbers five to eight further down the gallery and pounding a new nail for Grandfather at the end of the row.
Once this was done, there was the matter of the oddment to sort out. She could not remember where it had been when they had first discovered it. After, its primary home had been the nursery. But that would take an excessive amount of time to explain to a new generation of Stricklands who might find it strange. Eventually, she decided on a shelf in the small parlour. Since that room also held the family Bible, she took the time to update the listing, explaining that it was no longer buried in the back garden without providing any embarrassing details on the reason for the exhumation.
At last, she paid a visit to the lock room to retrieve the false parure, then returned to her bedroom, as had been suggested, and sat wondering how much time should be allowed for the dust to settle on the argument that must be taking place in the library.
Charity did not like being dictated to and flatly refused to be reasoned with. At any minute, she was likely to burst into Hope’s room to inform her that she was under no obligation to listen to a stranger’s opinion of where she should be spending her time.
* * *
The afternoon had passed in silence, which made Hope all the more nervous as she waited for the inevitable explosion. But as she’d requested, Charity had appeared at dinner, promptly at eight. They were hardly started on the soup course when she’d announced her intent to return to London as soon as she was able to collect her research sufficiently for travel.
Gregory Drake never ceased to amaze her. He had been able to do exactly what she’d asked of him in a single afternoon. And he’d had time afterwards to prepare for dinner. As usual, his suit and linen were immaculate. He had managed a shave and change of cravat, despite his refusal to pack for an extended stay. The man was not just a worker of miracles, he was a miracle himself. Once Charity retired to the library, as she always did after supper, the two of them could be alone and she could thank him.
He had ignored her hints in the hall, earlier. But it was not from a want of desire. What she had asked him to do was wrong. But for the first time in her life, she did not care.
There was still a part of her mind that knew it would be better for the family if she married Miles Strickland. But that part grew smaller by the minute. That same family that she’d wanted to help had been trying to talk her out of her plan for weeks. Nothing they’d said or done had persuaded her she was wrong.
And then Gregory Drake had kissed her. When he had lied about it at the ball, the idea that the Earl might be married had devastated her. But now, she prayed it was true. It had been much easier to plan for a life of sacrifice when she had not known what she would be giving up. Now, she could not imagine a future without Gregory in it.
If he refused to come to her, when they had retired for the evening, she would have to go to him. If she could not manage to tempt him with her body, she would tempt him with the secret he was obsessed with learning. This time, there would be no sudden angry departures. She would not let him escape her arms until she had heard a promise of marriage.
But before her happy future could begin, she had to get rid of her little sister. On any other night, Hope would have had trouble getting Charity to put down her books for a meal. But tonight she arrived at the table empty handed and was unusually loquacious. Afterwards, instead of disappearing to the library, she insisted that they adjourn to the parlour and set up the chessboard.
When Hope remarked that she was too tired from the journey to manage such a game, Charity had encouraged her to go straight to bed and invited Mr Drake to play the white. He accepted and they played in silence, while Hope sat alone by the fire, pretending to read.
Hope was not sure what he had said to her sister, but it seemed Gregory had made a conquest. It was either that or Charity had guessed her intent and decided to play chaperon. And it seemed that Gregory had seized on the opportunity as a way to protect her from herself and avoid another encounter like the one they’d had in the town-house library.
Why did he not understand that, for the first time in her life, she did not want to do the right and proper thing? Nor did she want to be saved from herself by well-meaning family. By half past ten, when the last of her patience had failed, she announced that it was time for bed.
