Here it comes, Charlotte thought.
“It was never my intention to marry this young.”
“How old are you?”
“One and twenty,” he answered.
Five years wasn’t a horrible age difference. Given the ages of some of the men who owed her father money, she could have easily been forced to marry a gentleman in his dotage.
Mr. Hawthorn studied her for a moment. “What are your dreams, Charlotte?” he asked. “Was it a Season of your own that has now been taken from you?”
Her face warmed and she looked away. “I suppose.” She had dreamed of a Season at one time, but that had been when she was younger and hadn’t realized that men would only ever want her for her wealth.
“My sister hopes for countless men courting her and worshiping at her feet.” Victor chuckled. “The two of you are the same age.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Mine were more realistic. I had hoped for a few gentlemen who would have been interested more in me than my inheritance.”
“I could court you so that you do not lose all of your dreams,” he offered quietly and with sincerity.
His gentle kindness warmed her heart, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to do something for her, as if they cared. “Your courtship would be because I asked it of you, or you thought it necessary and not because you singled me out. The magic would not be there.”
She dared not look at him, afraid she’d witness sympathy in his eyes, or he would think her pathetic. “Though in truth, I never thought to marry.”
“No. You wished to become a governess.”
Charlotte was once again reminded that he had heard that dreadful conversation with her father.
“My true dream is to become an artist, but it is unlikely that I could support myself as such.”
“Artist?”
Charlotte nodded. “I enjoy painting, Mr. Hawthorn, but—”
“—Victor,” he interrupted.
“Victor,” Charlotte corrected, finding it odd to be calling him by his first name. “But I am not good enough that anyone would purchase my work.”
She could feel him staring at her and perhaps she shouldn’t have confessed her true passion, but since they were to wed, Charlotte didn’t see any purpose in not being completely truthful. “What are your plans, once we marry?” she asked hesitantly.
“I thought we would live in my home in London.”
“Oh.” London was the last place she wanted to be, especially now, the height of the Season.
“Where do you wish to live, if not London?”
“I am not certain,” she answered. “It cannot be there,” she added, twisting the gown through her hands in nervousness. “I read the papers. All of London knows why you need to marry an heiress. Once they see me, they will pity you and people will speculate on our relationship and the one you have with Lady Cartwright. I know I could not live under such scrutiny and judgment.”
Chapter 3
VictorstudiedCharlotte.Infact, since he had first seen her face, he had been unable to look away. He had braced himself for the worst when he lifted her chin and found there was really nothing to fear. The full moon allowed him to see her clearly so he would not have to guess. Dark, curly hair came to a point in the middle of her forehead and fell away. Midnight eyebrows arched delicately over worried, clear blue eyes framed in thick, long lashes. Her nose was gently rounded at the tip, not sharp or pointy like so many of his class and complemented her rounded rosy checks and full red lips, which she was currently biting in nervousness. Lastly, what he noticed, which was highly unfashionable, was the mass of delicate freckles across her nose and cheeks. While Charlotte may not be considered a beauty, she wasn’t ugly either. All in all, she had a rather pleasant appearance.
However, she was only fifteen and worse, she looked younger. Had he seen her without knowing who she was, Victor would have thought her no older than thirteen. He may be forced to marry the girl, but until she matured, it would be a marriage in name only.
Charlotte spoke the truth of how her life would be in London. The gossip rags would not be kind and he could probably write the blasted, unflattering articles himself. He would not put her through that.
He may hate the position that his father had put him in, but Charlotte wasn’t any happier about it than he. And given what he’d overheard and knowing what London would bring, protectiveness, the likes of which he had never experienced, rose in him. He would protect her the best that he could.
“Is there somewhere you do wish to live?” He would buy her a house anywhere she wanted. He had the funds now.
