Again, that whisp of a grin floated across her face, and it seemed to harken all his senses. The perfumed, floral air of the hothouse suddenly seemed even sweeter, heavier, and warmer. He could hear the pounding of his own heart over the chittering monkeys.
“You are not worried about the impropriety of us being together?” Charlotte asked.
“Mr. Stewart’s servants are beyond discreet. If someone does notice us, they will never speak of it. Your reputation is safe.”
Charlotte’s expressive lips pulled downward at the last sentence. “I very much wish that I did not have to care about my reputation. It is exceedingly bothersome.”
Matthew chuckled. “It was a relief when I destroyed mine by becoming a physician.”
“It is not precisely the same.” Charlotte scrunched her face in concentration for a few beats. Then her expression smoothed as the words apparently came to her. “My flawless ‘moral’ perfection is the sum and total of my worth in Society. Without it, I have utterly no value, no use. No longer suited for breeding or for motherhood. A tarnished, soiled thing.”
The brutality of her words struck Matthew. He’d always understood the precariousness of a lady’s position, but he had never considered it with such unvarnished harshness.
“You are not your reputation, Charlotte,” Matthew said, barely realizing that he had not used ‘Lady’ before her name. “You are a wonderful, courageous, witty, intelligent person. Hell, you are the hero who stepped in front of a lead ball to save me!”
“All good traits.” But even as Charlotte seemed to agree, her mouth twisted with irony, and she added, “For a man. His honor includes the things that you just ascribed to me, but a woman’s is her meekness, humility, and above all, her virginity. Often what is seen as a virtue in a fellow is cast as a sin in a miss.”
Matthew opened his mouth but nothing emerged. He scrambled to find the right words to convey the gross unfairness of it all.
“But as I have learned tonight, I am more fortunate than others of my sex,” Charlotte continued before Matthew could speak. “Being born a lady, I can use my virtue as a weapon, to bend others to my will as they try to protect me. I am kept as a beautiful, caged bird with my needs provided for. I do not have to make my way in the world by performing the very actions that the world scorns women for—to take up positions that people hold as lesser simply because women typically execute those tasks. As long as I stay pretty, speak quietly upon command, and otherwise remain silent, I am esteemed and cosseted.”
“Your very spirit has always captivated me.” Matthew grabbed the hand of her uninjured arm and squeezed it tightly. He forgot to hide his admiration in his need to demonstrate that she was much more than her virtuous reputation. “The way you command a room with your presence, your active mind, and, yes, even your kindness impress me.”
Charlotte swayed into him and almost overset them both. Matthew instinctively wrapped his free arm around her body to prevent them from crashing to the floor. Charlotte gazed at him, her green eyes drenched with a yearning he had never even hoped to imagine that he could inspire in her.
“Could you kiss me?” Charlotte asked. “Not because it is proper or improper, but simply because I want to kiss you?”
Matthew’s heart seemed to still and then vibrate. Emotion broke through him in sharp but sweet shards. He wanted to say yes, to dip his mouth to hers, to taste—nay, to drink from her lips.
“I can’t.” The words ripped from him in a guttural groan.
Charlotte eased back, hurt flashing over her delicate features. The sight of her pain caused the splinters inside Matthew to explode into even smaller slivers.
“You do not fancy me?” Charlotte’s voice was shocked and heartbreakingly unsure.
The truth tore from the depths of Matthew with a force he was powerless to stop. “I have esteemed you since I first laid eyes upon you in the foyer of your parents’ house. You were wearing a pale blue silk dress, and you came racing down the stairs to embrace your brother. You were so full of life that you made something in me come alive—and that part of me has lived for you ever since.”
Swounds.Had he just said that? He sounded like a besotted jester spouting some overly poetic nonsense.
Charlotte didn’t laugh. Instead, her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a perfecto. Somehow, she managed to look evenmore kissable than she had just moments before, but Matthew held himself perfectly still, his heart galloping, his flesh prickling, his breathing harsh. The sensations deepened as he waited for Charlotte to fully comprehend his confession.
A brilliant, gorgeous smile bloomed over her face as the rest of her countenance brightened with an inner light. Charlotte laughed—throaty and full-bodied. Her uninjured arm looped around his neck, and she gently pulled him closer.
“Now you really must kiss me.” Her voice was as rich and intoxicating as her mirth.
Matthew’s lips hovered above hers, a hair’s breadth apart. But he did not move. Instead, he moaned out a promise, forgetting the differences in their stations, their widely divergent social spheres, and even the ever-present threat of his brutish brother.
“Tomorrow,” Matthew rasped out. “If you still want me to kiss you tomorrow, then I will.”
Charlotte danced away from him, once again reminding him of an impish pixie. She paused on the threshold of the glasshouse, her emerald eyes glowing greener than any of the lush plants surrounding her. “Be here. Ten o’clock. Pray do not be tardy.”
Then Charlotte disappeared into the darkness. Matthew did not follow. Tavish had men guarding the estate, and she would be safe on the walk back to the main house. Instead, he sank down onto a stone bench and stared out into the night, his body, his mind, his very soul shaken.
What had just happened? Would Charlotte even remember their encounter tomorrow? How much would she regret if she did?
One thing was certain. Matthew was going to be in this very hothouse at ten o’clock sharp—no, make that a quarter to ten.
Chapter Twenty
