He downed the rest of his drink.
In truth, he had no right to Charlotte Russell. And yet, the very idea of walking away from her caused his heart to ache. God, she was incredible. He’d regretted having to take her home because he’d wanted to spend more time in her company. If it were up to him, he’d never leave her side again.
He closed his eyes and shook his head.
Wake up, you fool.
As much as he wanted to change her mind about marriage and build a life with her, she didn’t deserve to marry a man who would always be less than what she believed him to be. Because he would never be brave enough to tell her the truth. And what sort of life would they have then?
If he married, he’d want his wife to know him, but baring his soul to Charlotte and seeing the look of disgust in her eyes when she realized he was a monster would be intolerable. The very idea made him nauseous. Within the short time they’d known each other, her opinion of him had become important. He couldn’t stand the thought of her seeing his true self – a man who ought to hang for the crime he’d committed. Instead, he remained in hiding, too fearful of facing the punishment he deserved.
He scoffed. The world might look at Blayne MacNeil and think him strong because of how he appeared on the outside. The reality, however, was that he lacked the courage to tell Charlotte the truth.
Doing so would be pointless anyway. It made no sense to ruin the limited time they had left together by dredging up the past. She’d no reason to know since he had no intention of marrying her. And by God, he needed to keep every memory of her pure and untarnished – a haven for him to revisit whenever the darkness crept in and threatened his soul. In those moments, he’d hold on to her, to the kisses they’d shared and the smiles that lit up her face each time she saw him.
In Charlotte’s eyes he was good – the best possible version of himself – a man he actually liked for a change. He couldn’t risk losing that for any reason. Not even for the sake of being honorable.
10
When Charlotte returned home after her outing with Blayne, she learned that Mr. Cooper was waiting for her in the parlor along with her parents. Charlotte thanked the butler for letting her know, exchanged an apprehensive look with Daisy who took Charlotte’s bonnet and gloves, and went to discover why Mr. Cooper had come to call. Until now, he’d only joined her for afternoon tea, but it was too early for that – luncheon time in fact – which was an odd hour to stop by unless he’d been invited. And why were her parents here when they’d both had plans to be gone for most of the day?
Steeling herself, she entered the room. Her father was speaking with Mr. Cooper, his tone firm and his face more grave than usual. She instinctively froze as a chill swept the length of her spine. Something wasn’t right.
“Ah. There you are,” Mama said when she noticed her arrival. Papa and Mr. Cooper halted their discussion and stood. As soon as she found a seat, they reclaimed theirs. “We’ve been waiting for you for almost one hour. Where have you been?”
“Not with Mr. Wright, I hope,” Papa said, his gaze narrowed at her in studious assessment.
“I, um…” Charlotte cleared her throat. Her heart beat faster. “I visited a bookshop. With Daisy. On our way home we stopped by the park for a walk.”
“So you’ve not seen Mr. Wright today?” Papa asked.
Unsure why Papa suddenly seemed so opposed to Blayne whom he’d actually said he liked last night after the ball, Charlotte shook her head. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Because it has come to my attention that he’s not the gentleman he has been claiming to be.” Papa leaned forward. “As it turns out, he’s not even called Mr. Wright. His real name is Mr. MacNeil, which makes him a dangerous criminal.”
Charlotte swallowed. Oh dear. She glanced at her mother whose eyes were filled with concern before dropping her gaze to the table and wishing there were something for her to imbibe besides tea. Since there wasn’t, she began preparing a cup if for no other reason than to busy herself with something.
“Did you know?” Papa’s voice was like a whip against her guilty conscience.
“Surely you must be mistaken,” Charlotte said, attempting to sidestep the question so she could avoid yet another lie. “No criminal could ever be as cultivated as Mr. Wright. Clearly he comes from a very good family.”
“And do you perchance have any idea which family that might be?” Papa asked.
“A Scottish one, I suspect,” Charlotte quipped.
“Charlotte,” Mama implored while Papa appeared to seethe with controlled fury. “This is not the right time to jest. Mr. Cooper had the foresight to do what we should have done from the start whenMr. MacNeil, a man we knew nothing about, informed us of his intention to marry our daughter.”
“Iinformed you of his intention to do so, Mama.”
“Regardless,” Mama continued as if Charlotte’s factual reminder was of no significance whatsoever, “the point remains the same. Mr. MacNeil fooled us all with a clever scheme, one we might never have discovered had it not been for Mr. Cooper’s efforts to have him investigated.”
“What?” Charlotte’s head spun around to face the man who’d decided to meddle in her affairs. “When?”
“Last night,” he said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I paid one of the Coventry servants to follow him home from the ball. Turns out, he lives in a slum and goes by a different name. More than that, he has ties to an outlaw known as Carlton Guthrie.”
“Carlton Guthrie is now the Duke of Windham,” Charlotte said. “His real name is Valentine Sterling and just so you know, he was cleared of any wrongdoing last year.”
She’d been wary of Mr. Cooper’s reaction, or lack thereof, when he’d found her in the garden with Blayne last night at the ball. It hadn’t made sense until now. As it turned out, the American businessman had elected not to force Charlotte into marriage with Blayne. By pretending indifference, he’d avoided a scandal while quietly gathering information against his opponent.
