Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
“Charlotte.”
George catches me in the darkened hallway moments after his engagement.
God. His engagement. I want to peel the skin from my bones just to feel something other than this hot, writhing embarrassment.
Tears sting my eyes as George’s hand circles my wrist. When he swings me around, he’s delighted.
“W-what do you want?” I ask as he crowds me toward the wall. My pathetic, wavering stutter holds none of the indignation I’d intended to bake into it. Which only emboldens him to cup my face.
He should not be touching me like this. Not anymore.
I should not be letting him.
His lips brush my forehead. “Do you know … toward the end of the King’s speech when he looked at you, I got worried?” A gentle huff into my hair. “I thought he was going to name you Favourite. Silly.”
Irritation swells, and I grasp it like a lifeline. “Why would that be silly?”
He pulls back, flashing a condescending smile. “Come on, Charlotte. You’re not meant for all this.” His fingers caress the exposed flesh above my bodice, a well-worn path, and heaven help me, I’m so destroyed I nearly let him have what I’ve given him so many times already.
Until he whispers, “You’re still my chickadee, aren’t you?”
I knock his hand from my chest. “Where is your fiancée, Lord Somersby?”
He grins, but presses in closer, wedging a leg between my thighs.
As if this is all part of some game I didn’t know we were playing.
“You can’t be upset about that. She’s a Favourite.
Her father owns half the textile factories in Breton.
And he’s paid my father a degrading amount of money to secure this proposal.
” I push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.
“She’s nothing compared to you, though. A cold fish.
Every time I’ve kissed her, all I can think about is how much softer your mouth is. How it feels wrapped around my—”
The slap cracks down the empty corridor.
I slump against the wall, chest heaving as George clutches his cheek and blurts, “What on earth is the matter with you?”
“I loved you.” It pours out on a pitiful wail, but I’m past caring. “I loved you, and I would have been yours forever had you only asked.”
“Charlotte.” He smiles, as patronizing as a tutor to a slow pupil. “You’re being unreasonable. My marriage need not be the end of our story. I want you just as desperately as I always have.”
The deep fissure in my chest splits open at his confession.
Because he may want to fuck me, he may want to be the only man I allow into my bed, but he will never choose me. Not for real.
I am humiliated, my face is blotchy, and my stomach is burbling from too much scotch, but I still have my self-respect.
It might be the only thing I have left after tonight.
“Goodbye, George. I wish you and Jane every happiness.”
I hold my head high, congratulating myself for keeping it together as I sashay away.
“No one else wants you, Charlotte!” he shouts. But he doesn’t chase after me. “You’ll come crawling back when you realize I’m your only option.”
I do not respond, even as his words scrape beneath my skin.
Because I have a terrible feeling he’s right.