As he turned away, Charlotte nearly slumped against the wall. The emotion coursing through her seemed to be draining her of all energy. It took everything she had to keep herself from fracturing into pieces as she fought against the tide of grief and anger rising in her blood.
She was only alone for a few moments before her unfocused vision noted the approach of two figures. With a clench of her jaw and a few rapid blinks she forced herself to acknowledge the elderly couple.
Lord and Lady Eastleigh slowed as they reached her position.
Charlotte’s heart pounded with riotous fury and an utterly unexpected fear.
The lady openly stared at her with eyes that were just like her mother’s and yet totally different. There was no sparkle of joy or warm compassion in the older women. Just wary suspicion. Andthe lord—Charlotte flicked a glance to his heavily scowling visage—looked at her with cold, stark dismissal.
It appeared they knew who she was.
Desperate not to feel cowed or uncertain before these people, Charlotte curved her mouth into a smile that was anything but pleasant. “Good evening—”
Her subtly sarcastic greeting was sharply cut off by Lord Eastleigh. “Do not presume an acquaintance.” His tone was angry and graveled with accusation. “Whatever scheme you’ve got going here will not work.”
Charlotte tilted her head and arched a brow. “Scheme? I don’t know what you mean.”
“We know who you are,” Lady Eastleigh muttered, her body going tense. “Frankly, I’m shocked she’d so boldly attempt to insert her cursed offspring into proper society. You don’t belong here, girl. Your mother will get nothing from us. You’d think she’d know that by now.”
“My mother—” Charlotte began, her voice louder than she intended as a ball of raging fury expanded inside to a point she thought it would explode. She steadied herself and lowered her tone as she looked at each of her grandparents with a hardened stare. “Is dead.”
Though her grandmother flinched at the stark words, her grandfather remained utterly unmoved. “And I want absolutely nothing from either of you. You are both tainted, your hearts diseased and rotten. In fact, I honestly cannot stand being in your presence another moment.”
Uncaring of their reaction to her insults, Charlotte turned and strode swiftly through the terrace doors. As the fresh night air hit her face, she cast her wide-eyed gaze in a rapid sweep of her surroundings, instinct urging her to flee as unfettered emotions crashed through her like a destructive tide. Her visionwas misting over. Her throat was closing. She couldn’t catch her breath. She was drowning.
“What is the matter? What happened?” The marquess’s voice, rich with concern, broke through the trance she’d fallen into as he stepped in front of her.
She couldn’t reply. Her voice was trapped in her chest along with most of her breath, squeezed by a swiftly rising pressure.
Concern and something else darkened his features. “This way,” he murmured.
Lending his strength and warmth with an arm around her waist, he swept her down the terrace to the darkened gardens beyond, away from the humming noise of the ball. Away from the villains who’d haunted her heart for months. Away from anyone who might see her collapse under the sudden vicious tide of emotion.
A welcome breeze cooled her face but when she tried to suck in a deep breath, she couldn’t. It seemed to stop halfway, giving rise to panic as she tried again and again, every breath feeling more and more shallow as her head spun and her legs went weak.
The waves were going to crush her.
A voice inside her head screamed at her to fight against it. But it was too heavy and dark and consuming.
When the first soul-deep sob broke through her closed airway, she felt a moment of relief. But then another came. And another. And then she was suffocating in a new way as grief poured from her in an unstoppable torrent. It was everything she’d been resisting since her mother’s passing. All the pain and sorrow she’d managed to keep contained deep inside. She couldn’t control it. She was going to be destroyed by it.
She gasped and sobbed and curled herself into the arms that held her. She wanted to bury herself in the silent comforting strength. She wanted to disappear so she wouldn’t feel theweight of her grief flowing through her. She wanted to sink into blackness and cease to exist. It was too much. It was too painful. She wasn’t going to survive this.
“It’s all right,” a heavy voice murmured gently. “You’re safe. I won’t let you go.”
As she struggled through the painful release of the grief she’d been fighting against for so long, she experienced the oddest sensation of being two different people. One who was so overwhelmed by sadness and loss that she couldn’t seem to grasp ahold of anything real but the man who held her. And another, who seemed to watch it from some untouchable distance, seeing the vulnerability but not feeling it.
Her distant perspective was able to acknowledge they were sitting on a small bench in a corner of the garden far from the house. It allowed her to accept that this moment had been bound to happen. That the anger and fury she’d clung to so fiercely had only been delaying this inevitable moment. And that somehow, she was not nearly as shamed as she might have expected that it should happen here and now. With this man.
She had no idea how long the torrent reigned. But eventually and in slow torturous degrees, the two parts of herself merged. Her awareness became more sensitive. Her breaths became deeper and more extended. Feeling returned to her limbs, which then began to shake and tremble beyond her control.
When she had gathered enough strength to do so, she pulled back from where she’d buried her face against his cravat and realized she’d soaked the material with her tears. She groaned in dismay and twisted free of his embrace, forcing herself to sit upright without the crutch of his support.
Her hands dropped heavily into her lap and the last sob left her lungs on a choked exhale. All she could do was keep her eyes tightly closed as she focused on easing her breath to a lesschaotic rhythm. She would give anything to escape what would surely come next.
“Charlotte,” he whispered, his voice low. Assuring. “Pull away if you must. But I’m not going anywhere.”
She felt him shift beside her before he wiped the tears from her face with his handkerchief. The gentleness of his actions almost started another wave of emotion, but she managed to hold it in check.
