Charlotte’s head was swimming.Wouldsuch news help her father recover? She wanted to agree. She wanted more of that tingling sensation when he kissed her, even as she knew he should never have taken such liberties. She realized with a start that he called her by her given name for the first time. But then, had he not just proposed? Certainly, it was all right for him to address her in that manner and to kiss her if he was her fiancé.
Charlotte suddenly giggled, thinking of what Dorothea’s reaction would be to learning of the physical acts Mr. Morton had taken just now.
If she was upset with me for just sketching with Mr. Frederick, what would she think of me sitting here hidden in the rose arbor, kissing Mr. Robert Morton and considering his offer?
Then, as though she heard Dorothea’s own voice in her head, Charlotte realized how exceedingly wrong this kind of proposal was. Run off to Gretna Green? It would cause a scandal from which her reputation might never recover. Even if they returned as man and wife, such haste to marry would always leave a lingering taint of impropriety over their union. “No gentleman would ever ask such a thing should he truly love you,” she could hear Dorothea say.
“Should he truly love you…” she murmured.
“What’s that, my angel?” Robert asked, lifting her chin up to stare into her eyes.
Charlotte felt herself weakening again. But, as he leaned in for another kiss, she cried out, “No!” She pushed herself out of his arms and jumped up and stood, trembling, several paces from the bench.
“Mr. Morton. If you truly loved me, you would be willing to wait and…and do things properly,” she said. “We must have a license. The banns must be read. My sister would wish to plan a beautiful wedding with a breakfast to follow. Go to Gretna Green and elope? How can you ask me to consent to such a scandalous thing?”
He jumped up and reached out for her hands, but she eluded his grasp and stepped farther away.
“No. I cannot do this. I am sorry, Mr. Morton—Robert. My answer to aproperoffer of marriage will be yes, I assure you, but I could never run away and cause Dorothea such pain. I beg you to reconsider your unusual offer. Pray, excuse me, I must return to the house at once.”
Charlotte turned and ran through the garden, seeking the nearest door in to Haverstone. Once she entered, she hid behind a window curtain, peeking out to see if he would follow to apologize for his outrageous behavior. She longed to hear him say that, ofcourse, she was right and then beg her forgiveness and promise that he would wait whatever time it took for her to return from Clayton House. Then, and only then, would he make a sincere offer of his hand in marriage, which she would accept. She looked down at her hand now; she was still clutching the handkerchief he had loaned her—fine linen with an embroideredRMin one corner. He was so gallant and kind. Ofcourse, he would come after her to apologize. How could he not?
But looking up again, all she saw through the window was the man she thought she loved storming through the garden away from the house, angrily slashing at the roses with his cane, and with not even a glance in her direction.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Robert arrived backat Brentwood, stormed into the house, and threw down his hat and walking stick in the entry hall. He stood a moment, breathing heavily. How could his plan have failed? He had been so confident that he would be able to convince Charlotte to join him and drive straight to Gretna Green. He moved toward his study for a much-needed drink, when he met his brother coming downstairs.
“Where have you been, Robert?” Frederick asked. “And, why did you take the carriage?”
“None of your affair—why must you always pester me? I am head of this house, not you. My comings and goings are none of your concern.”
He saw the look of shock on his brother’s face at his rude tone but could not bring himself to apologize. With a curt nod, he moved toward his office.
“Forgive me—I did not mean to pry.” Frederick hurried to catch up, and Robert noticed he was holding some folded paper. “I was just worried taking the carriage signaled you were going to be absent quite a while and this came shortly after you left. It is an express from Mr. Marshall, I believe.”
A wave of fear ran through Robert. Knowing he should make amends with his brother, he tried to smile as he took the paper. “Thank you, Freddy, and I am sorry I was short with you just now. Toanswer your question, I took the carriage over to Haverstone. I was…I was going to offer to ride along in escort with Lady Gillingham and Miss Kendall as they return home to Doddington, but my offer was graciously declined.”
“How is Miss Kendall?” Frederick asked with a worried face. “And Lady Gillingham, of course. I have been praying for Mr. Kendall’s full recovery.”
“Indeed, we all are. They are both as well as can be expected, I suppose. Forgive me, Freddy, but I must deal with this,” Robert said, holding up the missive. He went into his study and shut the door.
Alone, he tore open the seal and read the few lines his accountant had scribbled. His heart sank. One of his father’s lenders, a Mr. Caldwell, had reached the end of his patience. Even the twenty pounds from the sale of the painting that Robert had sent to placate him had not done the trick. Mr. Marshall warned that Caldwell intended to arrive within three weeks to begin claiming treasures from Brentwood to fulfill the debt. Would other lenders be far behind? This spelled utter disaster.
He sat heavily at his desk, slowly crumpling the paper in a fist, anger bubbling up again over Charlotte’s refusal to elope. Her six thousand pounds was so tantalizingly close and yet, still not his. And now with her father’s illness, she might be out of the county for weeks—perhaps longer. He clearly could not wait that long. He leaned over his desk, his head in his hands. How could he tell Frederick the awful truth—that the estate was all but lost?
A knock at the door interrupted his gloomy thoughts. He nearly barked to be left alone, but instead called, “Enter.” His butler opened the door and stood at the threshold.
“Yes, Millard, what is it?” Robert asked curtly.
“An unexpected guest, sir,” Millard replied. “A Mr. Henry Winston has arrived. I have shown him to the drawing room, but I did advise him you might not be available. I can send him away should you like.”
Although hardly in the mood for company, Robert shook his head and said he would meet him. Henry Winston. His old college friend would at least provide a much needed distraction, although he hoped he would not ask to be put up for the night. Robert had to leave for London in the morning to deal with this latest crisis. Perhaps he could find someone to lend him some money to stave off the wolves. Or could he sell some of his mother’s jewelry? That was a possible solution.
Robert strode into the drawing room to find his old friend leaning casually on the fireplace mantel, grinning at him. Henry’s ginger hair and freckles matched his ever-ebullient personality, and Robert realized how good it was to see him.
“Henry, what a surprise. My word, what brings you to Brentwood?” Robert embraced his friend and slapped him on the back. “You look well. May I offer you a drink?”
Henry laughed. “Your timing is most appropriate, for I am here to share wondrous news, and therefore I shall happily take you up on your offer.”
