John caressed her face, giving her a gentle smile. “I’ll take any excuse to have your company, but your help is not necessary.”
He didn’t intend for his words to sting; she knew he didn’t. But they hurt nonetheless. “You don’t want my help?”
He pursed his lips, as though trying to think of the best way to phrase his objection to her assistance. “I don’t require it as a condition of my love.”
She frowned, tucking the cover tight beneath her armpits. “Is this because of what Luella said? That I’m only helpful because I want people to like me? Because that’s not at all true.” Or at least, it was only a little bit true. It certainly wasn’t her primary motivation.
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for today?”
Drat.She could see where he was going with this, but she couldn’t back down.
“I have a meeting to discuss supplies for the orphanage, then I have to set the menu for Edward’s dinner with the French diplomat next Tuesday, and then I’m going to Miss Portsmith’s for afternoon tea to help her with her small talk. She’ll never land a husband repeating the same three sentences over and over.” She refused to be anything but proud of her work today.
“Do youwantto do all of those things?” John asked.
Generally, yes. That was how she loved to spend her days, even if it got exhausting. Even if sometimes she would rather just sit with Grace and while away the day speaking of nothing important. Today was different. “I’d rather spend the day with you,” she admitted.
“Then send your apologies. Reschedule. We’ll hide away from the world today.”
A Wildeforde kept her commitments. A Wildeforde devoted her time to helping others. But could she—Charlotte Stirling, soon-to-be Lady Harrow—take a moment to be selfish?
“All right,” she whispered. “That sounds divine.”
***
If John had had a choice, it would have been to avoid Wilde until Charlotte was ready to announce their engagement. Despite spending the past couple of days practically living together, with Charlotte sneaking to his house through the garden wall, she was hesitant to tell her family about their betrothal. Her reasoning was that if they waited until they’d successfully pulled John’s estates out of debt, then Edward would have no reason to oppose the match.
John didn’t share Charlotte’s optimism. Wilde’s opposition had been about more than money. Her brother didn’t think John was a suitable candidate for a husband. But then, he also thought John would return to America. Maybe once he saw that John would stay in London so that Charlotte could keep her life of ballrooms and house calls and charity work, he’d be more inclined to give his blessing. Maybe.
Yet, John couldn’t help but feel that he’d betrayed his closest friends. Wilde and Fiona were family, and that should have been reason enough for him to keep his distance from Charlotte when they asked, but it hadn’t been.
The only way he could assuage his guilt was by reminding himself that they were to marry, and he would dedicate his life to making her happy, even if that meant remaining in England. Even if it meant occasionally going to these god-awful balls, although he hoped she’d be willing to attend most with her friends and only require John’s presence at one or two a month.
But the knowledge that he would make her a good husband would not protect him from Wilde’s wrath in the short-term, and if the way Edward was bearing down on him this minute was any indication, the short-term started here. Now. In the middle of a London ball that John hadn’t expected his friend to attend.
“Barnesworth. Dammit,Harrow. It’s been days since Fiona and I saw you.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. They’d been friends long enough for John to recognize Wilde’s displeasure.
“The estates are in a mountain of t-trouble. Moving it is busy work.” Damn himself for stuttering. Wilde would know his anxiety immediately.
“Does this busy work involve my sister? I know she’s feeding your household from our kitchens. Four pigeon pies? I imagine your butler has never been better fed in his life.”
A wash of embarrassment crept over John. Charlotte had come around most mornings with a basket of food that included breakfasts and dinners. Mosely would walk on water for her at this point. But the pigeon pies? They had gone to William and the lad who nursed him.
Not that Charlotte had shared that fact with her eldest brother, which meant John had no choice but to lie. “The pie was good. Your cook is an artist. But I wasn’t aware that Charlotte hadn’t told you that she was sending food. I’ll ask her to stop.”
Wilde rolled his eyes. “I don’t mind spotting you a meal. I offered you the blunt needed to run your household, remember? What I mind is hearing reports of how my sister and the Viscount Harrow have been seen together over and over. That they’re practically attached at the hip. There are rumors circulating and I don’t like the content of them.”
John and Charlotte should have come clean immediately. The moment she’d accepted his proposal, they should have returned to Wildeforde House and announced it. If she were standing next to him, he’d give her a nudge and confess to Wilde now. Instead, John could only deliver a half-truth.
“Charlotte is helping me win the blunt needed to save the estates. We come to a ball, we dance a little, and then we win as many hands of whist as we can without raising suspicion.”
Wilde’s mouth fell open—the very picture of stunned horror. Once he’d collected himself, he responded quietly, but that didn’t stop the fury from seeping out of his voice. “How could you? After all my family has done for you. What if your scheme was discovered? How could you risk her reputation?”
An uneasiness roiled in John’s gut. “We are very careful.”
Wilde’s hands fisted at his sides, and for the first time in their friendship, John wondered if they were about to come to blows. “You cannot be careful enough with her. I want your word that you’ll do the gentlemanly thing and tell her to stay away.”
John would not do that. He loved her; she loved him, and they were going to have a wonderful life together, whether her brother approved or not. “Perhaps you should give your sister credit for knowing her own mind. She’s a grown woman. Surely she can decide what she does with her time?”
