Chapter 3
“Why is she here, Arliss? You promised that she would not be here. You made it seem as though your Miss Charlotte Mulberry would be nothing more than a shy little mouse too humiliated to show her face in public,” Georgianna complained. “And yet, I must see her at every turn!”
“Please, keep your voice down. Do you wish everyone gathered here to know how much this vexes you?” Arliss Cranford pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache that was brewing. In a less strident and more congenial tone, he continued, “Georgianna, this is her home. She does live here in Ambleside. You can hardly expect her to hide away in her house simply because we are present.”
“Can’t I?” she demanded, all but stamping her feet. “Arliss, I am your wife. How am I to make a home for us here when everyone looks at me with such blatant hostility? And how are they ever to forget that I am ‘the other woman’ when your former betrothed is there, moping about every corner?”
That was not the way of things at all. No one was being hostile to Georgianna. Though she had not endeared herself to the people of Ambleside, it had far less to do with any perceived wrong that she had committed against Charlotte than it did the fact that Georgianna could, and often did, give the impression of being very high in the instep. “No one is hostile to you, Georgianna. If you’d simply try to be a bit more understanding… Charlotte has lived her entire life in this village and people are naturally protective of her. And we have hurt her. It’s a terrible thing that we’ve done, but that doesn’t mean I would change it. I am very happy to be married to you. And I am very happy not to be married to her. But we cannot force people to forget that I had once intended to marry Charlotte.” The assurances were offered by rote. He’d been repeating them incessantly from the moment they’d exchanged their vows. How funny it was that Georgianna’s agreeable nature had vanished as soon as he’d slipped a ring on her finger.
Georgianna’s lower lip turned out in a mutinous pout, and she crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child. “Find a way, Arliss. I will not play the villain to her martyr. It isn’t my fault you didn’t love her.”
Actually, it was,Arliss thought. Perhaps not entirely, but Georgianna had pursued him very enthusiastically, knowing that he was betrothed to another. He could have refused her, but she’d made it damned near impossible to do so. It wasn’t so much that he’d leapt at temptation, but that temptation had, over time, simply worn him down. Like waves over a rock, he thought, he’d eventually simply given way. Surely love would have given him the strength to resist, he mused. But, alas, it had not and he was forced to accept one terrible fact.
That truth, disagreeable as it was, indicated that he hadn’t really loved Charlotte at all. He wasn’t certain that he ever had. He cared for her, fondly, but that wasn’t love. And he’d justified his decision to set her aside by telling himself that she deserved a husband who would truly love her. Nevermind that she didn’t have a dowry. Or that she had no way to go to London and be part of the marriage mart to find a husband. Or that even socializing locally was sometimes difficult, given her uncle’s state of health.
While it did not paint him in the best of lights, Arliss could admit that he’d told himself what he had to in order to absolve himself of any guilt. But it was becoming harder and harder to believe those comforting lies. And when Georgianna’s somewhat shrewish temper reared its ugly head, it was even harder to understand why she’d been the better choice of bride. Charlotte, for all that she did not inspire tremendous feeling in him, was at least always pleasant.
Georgianna had pursued him, but he’d been willing to be pursued. He might have been perfectly content to marry Charlotte once he had his business settled, had he not met Georgianna. But then he had met her, and she had a promise from her father of an income no less than one thousand pounds per year. And she’d been quite adamant that she would support his business endeavors once he had put a ring on her finger. It had been a practical choice. And he loved Georgianna. He did. He thought. He certainly hoped that if he did not, he would in time.
At present, he was slightly exasperated by her, but he did have genuine affection for her. The kind of affection he’d had for Charlotte in the beginning, until they’d settled so firmly into their respective lives that he could no longer see a way for them to actually build one together. Though Charlotte had never complained so much, he thought with no small degree of regret. Nor had her voice ever taken on that high pitched whine as Georgianna’s did when she wasn’t getting her way. But no woman was perfect, he reasoned. Surely Charlotte had possessed some flaws, as well. Though for the life of him, he could not think of a single one.
Ethan had noted the tension in Miss Mulberry the moment they arrived at White Oak Hall. It was not any great question as to why. Her former betrothed, Mr. Arliss Cranford, and his new bride, were both in attendance. And the new bride was making no attempt whatsoever to disguise her hostility toward Charlotte in the least.
“Would you like to get some air, Miss Mulberry?” They had only been inside for a moment, so getting air wasn’t really a concern. But he could hardly ask her if she wished to flee the presence of the scarlet woman who had stolen her betrothed.
“I would indeed. But do you not wish to enjoy the party?” she asked, her concern for him etched on her very expressive face.
“I confess that I dislike being in such a crowded room… but I will persevere if you feel inclined to stay.”
Her lovely cupid’s bow lips turned upward in a relieved smile. “Oh, I’ve no desire to remain in this room. It is certainly overcrowded by at least two.”
Seizing upon the first thought that came to him, he offered, “It is my understanding that Mrs. Barrington has an enviable garden.” He couldn’t have given a fig one way or another. But it would get them out of doors, out of that cloying drawing room and away from the people who were clearly making her uncomfortable. And it would give him a moment alone with her. Not to be in anyway improper, of course. Though he certainly did want to be improper with Miss Charlotte Mulberry. To an embarrassing degree, he wanted that.
“Yes, her gardens are extraordinary,” Miss Mulberry agreed. “She is devoted to making them quite a showpiece.”
Offering her his arm, Ethan escorted her to the terrace doors which were opened wide to the nice breeze and the sunshine that poured in. Stepping outside, his frown returned instantly. There were pockets of people everywhere. Giggling young girls, meddling matrons, and several young men who danced attendance on pretty girls while suffering the same disappointment he currently felt. They would not be alone in the garden. He would not be able to, in his own halting and certainly less than erudite fashion, confess to her that he’d been carrying a tendre for her these past seven years. There would be no chance to confess to her that he’d held her in the deepest of regard from the very moment they had first met, when not even a word had yet passed between them.
“Are you quite alright, my lord?”
Forcing himself to smile, Ethan turned back to her. “Quite well, Miss Mulberry. Please, show me these magnificent gardens.”
“Shall we start with the roses? There’s a lovely folly down by the maze, as well.”
The maze.If ever there was a perfect spot to have complete privacy and finally confess his infatuation to her, that would be it. “Lead on.”
“It is very fine weather,” Miss Mulberry remarked.
“So you said,” he replied.
“Oh!” she exclaimed and then laughed. “I am not terribly good at making conversation. I rarely find myself with anyone besides my uncle to talk to and… well, he’s asleep most of the time. And when he isn’t asleep?—.”
“He can’t hear you anyway.”
She blushed prettily. “Yes. And I always feel horrible. Like I’m yelling at him.”
“I am certain your uncle does not feel that way,” he reassured her as they headed down the path toward the roses she’d mentioned earlier. “He’s a practical man who likely appreciates the added volume.”
“Appreciates?”
“Yes. To avoid straining his hearing further or straining his voice with constantly asking ‘what’.”
Another smile from her. It was like the sun coming from behind clouds, he thought.
“What a remarkably wise way to look at things, my lord,” she gushed. “I cannot thank you enough for helping to resolve that conundrum for me.”
“Ethan. Or Warburton. Aimsbury still sounds foreign and my lord… even though I’ve held the title for seven long years now, I’ll never become accustomed.”
Her smile positively lit her face when she bestowed it upon him. “Well, I think with it being just us, I could certainly call you Ethan. And you should call me Charlotte. Good heavens, we’ve known one another for ages now! And you have quite clearly displayed the depths of your friendship to me today…But in company, perhaps we should revert to more formal address?”
Ethan felt a smile tugging at his lips. It was an unfamiliar feeling. For as little as he talked, it seemed he smiled even less. But in her presence, it seemed to be all he could do. It was impossible not to feel happiness when he was with her and even more impossible to keep that happiness hidden. “Charlotte… I like having a secret with you.”