Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
M atilda kept her distance from Christopher after dinner, deciding to retire early, if only to prove a point that she was worth waiting for and to ignite his longing with the absence of her presence.
Yet the feral, almost uncontrolled emotions she had glimpsed on his face whenever he was waylaid as he tried to approach her left her breathless and unsure of what she had awakened in such a strong, virile man.
Were his emotions growing stronger? Could she hope that mayhap he was falling in love with her, not just lust? Lust, she knew he was already experiencing, but she wanted so much more.
By the following morning, she was dressed in her green morning gown with delicate yellow embroidery, her hair tied low on her nape in a green ribbon, and ready for the informal excursion Christopher was to escort them on to the grotto. The idea of a picnic under the trees and near the river was an inviting prospect, a lovely way to spend a leisurely day away from the estate.
Her maid helped her pin a wide-brimmed straw hat to her natural hair, allowing her to remain cool now that the storm had passed and the day had dawned warm. She doubted anyone would wear a wig today, and if they did, they would soon regret it.
Matilda admired her reflection in the mirror. The natural look lent her an air of sophistication she sometimes lacked. There was always the possibility that one's appearance in society could be too made up.
"The carriages are outside and ready whenever you are, Lady Matilda." Her maid bustled about the room, cleaning up after their morning routine.
"Thank you, Margaret. I’ll head down now. When I return, I’d like a bath drawn before dinner."
Margaret curtsied. "Of course, my lady."
Matilda had barely taken several steps along the corridor when a deep, familiar voice murmured near her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine.
"How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself today, knowing what lies beneath all that pretty material and lace?"
Her stomach fluttered with delicious anticipation. She halted her steps, forcing Christopher to run into her back, his strong hands instinctively gripping her waist to steady them both.
His body pressed against hers, hard and unyielding. His closeness highly improper, yet intoxicating.
"And what makes you think I want you to keep your hands to yourself?" Matilda placed her hand over his, keeping him where he was. "I quite enjoy your touch."
"Your disappearance last evening, your ability to retire without one second in my presence would state otherwise."
She turned to meet his eyes, losing herself in the storm of desire swirling within them. Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "Did you miss me, my lord?" She chuckled. "Are you not more eager this morning to have me to yourself?"
A low, guttural sound escaped him, a mix of frustration and need. It resonated through her, pooling heat low in her belly.
"You shouldn’t say such things, for I might drag you into the linen closet and show you how eager I am to be alone with you. I can still see you still on my desk, and the imaginings are pushing me to my limits, Lady Matilda."
She moaned, her fingers brushing along his chiseled jaw. "Do not tease me so, my lord. You do not see me disapproving of your notion to sneak away, and there lies madness."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he stepped toward the linen closet he’d just mentioned, his hand lingering at her waist. But before he could act, Charlotte’s voice echoed down the hallway.
"Matilda, Christopher! There you are. Come quickly, or we’ll be late. Everyone is already waiting outside."
Matilda jumped and schooled her features, hiding her disappointment. She stepped toward the staircase just as Charlotte and Lord Lacy joined them at the top of the stairs.
"Who else besides Lady Delphine is joining us?" Matilda asked Charlotte, keen to speak of everyday things rather than dwell on what she had been about to enjoy with Christopher.
Christopher followed close behind, his presence tangible, even when he wasn’t touching her. Occasionally, his hand brushed the small of her back, subtle but deliberate, sending sparks skittering across her skin.
"The vicar and his wife are joining us," Charlotte replied, adjusting her shawl. "Mama suggested they come along after you retired last evening. Lady Delphine is already in your carriage, brother. So you'll travel with us, Matilda."
Disappointment surged through Matilda, knowing she could not be alone with Christopher before the picnic. She fought to look indifferent to the information, but by the time they reached the sunny foyer, she was finding it hard to keep it in place.
As stated, Lady Delphine sat in Christopher’s carriage, perched like a peacock with a satisfied smile on her lips. Matilda stifled the urge to yank her off the curricle seat and toss her onto the gravel drive, far away from Christopher.
"I'm happy you'll ride with us, Matilda." Charlotte linked their arms and moved to leave. "I feel like I have not seen you for days."
Matilda nodded, and soon, everyone was seated in their respective vehicles, and the small convoy began its journey down the estate drive toward the grotto.
The day was perfect—warm and cloudless, with the scent of blooming roses and freshly cut grass wafting through the air.
"How has your stay been, my dear? I feel like there is much to catch up on. I hope you're enjoying your time here with us. Oh, how I will miss you when you leave." Charlotte reached for Matilda’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I’ve enjoyed myself immensely," Matilda replied. "I’ll be quite sad to leave. But at least we’ll see Genevieve again, and I’m very much looking forward to that."
Charlotte smiled warmly. "Yes, it has been weeks—far too long." She studied Matilda for a moment, her expression turning curious. "Now that we’re alone, I must ask. What’s happening between you and my brother?"
Matilda’s heart skipped a beat at the forward question. She struggled to formulate a response, and for several heartbeats, her mouth refused to form words. "N-Nothing is happening between us," she replied carefully, not wanting to give herself away. Not yet at least. She wasn’t ready to say anything to her friends over what was happening between her and Lord Charteris. "We’re friends like you and I are, nothing more."
Lord Lacy chuckled, covering his amusement with a cough as he turned to look out the carriage window.
Charlotte arched an eyebrow at her husband before turning back to Matilda. "I saw you in the hallway this morning. Even though I decided to ignore what I had seen until now, my brother’s hands had been on your waist, and you clearly had been standing entirely too close. It looked very intimate. So, I’ll ask you again—what is happening between you two?"
Meeting Charlotte’s perceptive gaze, Matilda realized there was no point in lying, and Charlotte was her closest friend. She could not lie to her any more than she could lie to herself. "I don’t know what is happening," she admitted. "But I know that I like him very much. Perhaps too much that is safe for my heart."
Charlotte’s expression softened.
"But he’s so determined to remain a bachelor," Matilda continued, her frustration spilling over. "How old does he plan to be before he takes a wife? And then there’s Lady Delphine—clearly in love with him and wanting him for herself. I cannot stand it. Do you think he’s torn between us? Do you think I am pining for a man who loves another, who only enjoys the game of chasing women but will never truly want one?"
Charlotte shook her head firmly. "No. My brother is a gentleman. He would never lead a lady along if he did not have genuine feelings for her. His attention to Lady Delphine is merely out of kindness and an old family friendship." She paused. "Perhaps Lady Delphine has been waiting years for something that will never come to pass, and if that is the case, then I am very sorry for her."
"Do you truly think so?" Matilda hoped that was the case, but still, unease warred with her hope.
Charlotte met her eyes, hers shining with conviction. "But the way he looks at you, Matilda—the way he acts around you— it’s clear to me that he cares for you very much. Mayhap even more than that."
Matilda’s chest tightened with a mixture of longing and doubt. "Do you truly think I have a chance with him?"
The desperation in her question revealed her distress, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Christopher, as her husband, would grant her the freedom she craved and the partnership she longed for. He wouldn’t try to change her, to mold her into the perfect duchess. Was he the man she had been searching for?
But how could she make him see her as more than a fleeting tryst? How could she make him fall in love with her and offer her his heart and name?
Charlotte smiled reassuringly. "I believe you do. And I believe he will soon realize it, too. When one falls for another, it’s a gradual surrender—reshaping one’s world. I should know. I married the man I love, and I have no doubt you will, too. That man is my brother, Matilda. Just wait and see."
Matilda nodded, clinging to her friend’s words with everything she had. Her future happiness depended on it.