The perfect words, he meant. Or words by which he might ask for her niece’s hand without revealing what he had done the day before. Sparing them all the embarrassment was, he thought, a wise course.
He had made love to Charity the day before, nearly fully clothed and in the midst of the day at a country house party.By God, he had still been wearing his shoes. He did not do that sort of thing. And yet he had. He had taken Charity’s virginity. Or rather, she had offered it to him and he had selfishly seized it. Afterward, she had told him he must not worry and that what had happened would be their secret.
He had tried to argue, but she had been having none of it. He had not seen her since. Following their lovemaking, he had found himself disheveled and sated, wandering the halls of Fangfoss Manor, wondering what the devil he was going to do next.
Love was a strange and unpredictable beast.
But then, he supposed, so was a man.
He had certainly surprised himself with his actions the day before. And there was no doubt that Lady Charity Manners was the last woman with whom he had ever expected himself to fall in love. She did not fit any of his previously decided upon criteria.
“I do hope you have sought me out because of Lady Charity,” Lady Louise said then, breaking through his rampant thoughts.
He blinked. Was he transparent? Or had she seen him leave Charity’s chamber yesterday? Had Charity told her what had happened? That hardly seemed likely, but now his mind was flooded with troubling possibilities.
“I am,” he began, and then faltered.
Blast.
He swallowed, trying to summon the soliloquy he and Anderson had decided upon during his morning ablutions. But then he remembered that Anderson had also been the man responsible for the deuced disagreeable rash upon his upper lip and chin on account of that infernal beard and mustache glue.
Perhaps not a fellow whose judgment ought to be trusted after all.
“You are?” Lady Louise prompted, giving him a bright, encouraging smile.
How like Charity she was, he thought. The same golden hair and bright-blue eyes. One could easily discern the familial resemblance between them. Still, he was having a difficult time finding the proper words.
Do not tell her you ruined her niece, he warned himself.
Neville wished he had been prescient enough to ring for a tray of tea. Sadly, he had not been. This was his sole reason for attending this cursed house party, was it not? And yet, nothing about his aims in coming here had gone according to plan.
“I am in love with Lady Charity,” he said, surprising even himself with the confession.
It was the truth, impossible though it seemed. Still, he had not meant to reveal the depth of his emotions to Charity’s aunt before he had shared it with the lady herself. How graceless he had been, losing himself in her body and then slipping from her chamber without a declaration.
“Of course you are.” Lady Louise beamed, looking pleased and not a bit surprised at his revelation.
“Of course I am?”
“I could see it in your eyes when you looked at her,” Charity’s aunt explained, her smile gentling, turning affectionate. “From the moment the two of you were introduced, I knew you were a match that was destined to be.”
She had? Was the woman a soothsayer? A sorceress?
He frowned. “You did?”
How, when even he had not known?
“The two of you remind me of myself and my Philip,” Lady Louise explained softly. “You do recall the tale I told you in the maze, do you not?”
Her lost love. Yes, he recalled.
“You were opposites, I believe you said.”
“Yes,” she said. “Much like you and Charity. I was free-spirited and quite a hoyden in my day. You would not know it to look at me now, but I dare say I spent the first few weeks of my acquaintance with Philip utterly horrifying him. He was a quiet man, and I was too bold and garrulous for him. Or so he thought.”
Neville shifted in his seat once more, feeling as if he were privy to information which was not rightfully his to claim.
“I am sorry to bring back unpleasant memories, my lady,” he offered.
