“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Charlotte said when she and Blayne escorted Avery to the door a few minutes later while Claus showed Albert the kitchen. “But I am glad you were able to help.The Marquess’s Unresolved Mysterieswill probably have to remain with P. Agerson Publications, but maybe the next novel I write can be published through you again?”
“Would you really trust me with another contract?”
“You’ve proven yourself to be a loyal friend, Avery. The blame for what happened lies exclusively with Albert.”
“And if yer brother is correct with regard to yer contracts leaning too far in the author’s favor,” Blayne said, “I’d be happy to help ye out from a business standpoint.”
“Oh.” Avery smiled for the first time since she’d arrived, then frowned. “But that might not be in your wife’s best interest.”
“We like to think of ourselves as fair-minded people,” Charlotte said. “I do not want to take advantage of you any more than you would want to do so of me.”
“In that case, I would be happy to accept any help you’re willing to offer. Thank you both.”
Charlotte pulled her friend into a hug. “We’ll be in touch.” As soon as she was gone Charlotte turned to Blayne. “Poor woman.”
“Indeed.” He drew Charlotte into his arms. “This victory does have a sting to it.”
“I still can’t believe Albert did this.”
“He wanted ye for himself, lass, and when he realized that wouldnae happen, he sought to hurt ye.”
“And his sister.”
“A man in love doesnae always ken how to use his brain.” He tilted her chin up and lowered his mouth to hers. “How else can ye explain why I let ye transform me into yer fake fiancé?”
“That happened the day after we’d just met,” Charlotte said while gazing into his brown eyes. “You cannot mean to tell me you’d already fallen in love with me then.”
“Not completely, perhaps, but I was at least one tenth in love with ye when I realized ye’d pulled yer pistol on Mr. Evans after he dared touch ye.”
She chuckled. “And the rest?”
“Yer willingness to fight for what ye want. Yer fondness for Mr. Cunningham.BeingMr. Cunningham. Renegotiating with Mr. Cooper. Believing in me when no one else did. Following me all the way to Scotland. Reuniting me with my mother. Setting me free. Showing me every second how much ye love me in return. All yer sweet kisses. That’s more than enough for one hundred percent and I’m just getting started.”
“I love you too,” Charlotte whispered while tears stole into her eyes and her vision blurred. “For saving me when you weren’t obligated to do so, for helping me out of my bind with Mr. Cooper. For showing me how to live and for always offering help whenever I needed it. You risked your freedom – your life – to save my reputation.”
“Instead, I ruined it.”
“Not that I mind.” She raked her fingers up through his hair. “I would gladly risk scandal and ruination a thousand times over as long as it means I’ll be yours.”
“Ye’ll always be mine, lass. This I swear.” He captured her mouth once more, cementing the certainty of his words with a kiss so thorough it left Charlotte breathless.
Not that she minded. She kissed him right back with equal fervor while joy swam through her veins. She loved this man for countless more reasons, and as long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.
22
The Windham ballroom, seven years later.
Standing off to one side, Marcus casually sipped the brandy he favored over the bubbly champagne being passed around by the footmen. A white marble pillar to his left allowed him to savor the music in peace. He loved the classical pieces being played but hated the idea of having to meet with the peers who had been invited to celebrate Regina’s birthday. She’d insisted he be there of course, so he was, without revealing his presence.
The brandy slid down his throat, its spicy flavor heating a path straight to his stomach. Later, when all the guests had gone home, he would meet in private with Guthrie and the other dukes for a game of cards – an activity he always relished because they treated him as their equal.
“Supper is ready,” the butler intoned once the last piece of music had faded.
Chatter ensued as guests began moving toward the adjoining room. Marcus waited for the subsequent silence, then stepped out from behind the pillar and crossed to the terrace. There was plenty of time to enjoy a bit of fresh air before the guests returned.
He pushed through the French doors and took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine that clung to a nearby arbor. And froze as soon as he realized he wasn’t alone.
“If only he would pay more attention to me,” said the lady who stood a few paces away. “But what would ever compel him to?”
