“Lady Chase.” Devon sketched an elegant bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam. I know you by reputation, of course.”
Lady Chase fixed him with a freezing glare. “I know the same of you, sir, I’m sorry to say, and you look even more devious than I was led to believe. Well, you may look elsewhere for your hens tonight.”
Devon let out a startled laugh. “I beg your pardon?”
Charlotte jumped into the fray before Lady Chase could make the situation worse with a reply. “Miss Somerset and Miss Violet, my lord.”
“My lord.” Iris dipped into an eager curtsey.
“Miss Somerset.” He raised her hand to his lips, then turned and bowed to Violet. “And Miss Violet. A pleasure. Now, Lady Hadley. May I take you for a stroll in the garden?”
Charlotte smiled and placed her hand into his gloved palm. “Yes, please. It’s quite warm in here, is it not?”
“Exceedingly.” Iris fanned herself with vigorous strokes, her feverish gaze on Devon.
Violet tittered, Iris glared at her, and Lady Chase’s face flushed ominously at the idea of Charlotte walking alone in a dark garden with a notorious rogue. Charlotte, who knew an impending explosion when she saw one, began to hurry Devon away. “I’ll find you again before supper, my lady.”
“See that you do, Lady Hadley. And you, sir,” she barked at Devon. “Take care you keep in mind what I said about the hens!”
“Hens?” Devon looked down at Charlotte, a smile tugging at his lips. “Good God. Who is that poor, mad old creature?”
Charlotte returned his grin. “Family. Her two eldest granddaughters are married to my brothers. Despite appearances tonight, she’s actually quite sane.”
“Really, my lady, you do have a most unfortunate family.”
She let him lead her through the open French doors and out onto the terrace. She lifted her face and let the cool breeze waft over her heated cheeks. “Beautiful night.”
Devon didn’t take his eyes off her. “Yes. Beautiful, indeed.”
Charlotte’s breath hitched in her throat. Months ago he’d asked her a question, and finally, last night, she’d told him yes. Now, only one night later, she was going to take her answer back. Devon would never hurt her, she knew that, but he wasn’t the kind of man one trifled with, just the same. If she meant to disappoint him, she’d best do it at once. “I can smell the roses from here.” She took his arm. “Shall we walk?”
Blue heat flared in his eyes. “Are you certain you wish to stroll through a dark garden with me, my lady? I’m not quite as debauched as thetonlikes to believe. I’m capable of waiting, as long as I’m not…unduly tempted.”
Charlotte offered him a wan smile. “I only want to speak to you. Privately.”
“Ah, well. That sounds far less intriguing than what I had in mind.” He smiled, but Charlotte saw the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m at your service, my lady.”
He let her lead him down the terrace steps and onto a dim pathway that led to the outer edge of the garden, away from the small knot of guests gathered around the fountain where the pathways converged at the center. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the muted crunch of Devon’s footsteps on the gravel pathway and the faint rustle of Charlotte’s silk skirts in the breeze. As they ventured farther into the garden the light from the terrace faded, until only the starlight illuminated the pathway at their feet.
Charlotte tilted her chin to look into the dark night sky. Gardens, dark nights filled with stars—the most poignant moments of her life had taken place in gardens just like this one. That night with Julian—oh, it felt like a lifetime ago she’d lured him into a midnight garden and let him kiss her under the spreading branches of an ancient oak tree. The moment his lips touched hers, she’d known she’d never be the same again—
“You’ve changed your mind.” There was no accusation in Devon’s voice, no fury, but no question, either.
Charlotte closed her eyes. She’d accepted Hadley’s proposal in her mother’s garden, and Devon’s last night in Annabel’s garden, the scent of flowers heavy in the air, and she’d been so sure, when his mouth closed over hers, so sure…
But she’d been another person then. A person who pretended, a person who hid from herself. She drew a long, deep breath into her lungs. “Yes.”
His fingers flexed around hers for a brief moment; then he nodded. “I thought you might.”
He hadn’t been as sure as she’d been. The thought made her heart clench in her chest, because wasn’t this more proof of how well he knew her? Even better than she knew herself.
Damn it. A tear gathered in the corner of her eye and spilled onto her cheek, but she ignored it and continued to stare into the night sky.Damn it, it wasn’t fair—to Devon or to her, because it would be so much easier if she could simply love Devon. So much easier than it was to love Julian.
Devon stepped toward her and brushed the tear from her cheek. “Look at me.” He took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “You don’t have to love me, Charlotte. We’re friends, and we understand each other. We could have a good marriage, even without love, and perhaps in time—”
“No. I told myself that once before, Devon, when I married Hadley. You can’t imagine how much it hurts—” Her words were swallowed by a choking gasp.
To wish you could love someone, and to see how much it hurts them when you can’t.
