Chapter 40 #2
Charlotte felt a painful flicker of irritation. How could he sound so amused by something that hurt her so deeply?
‘Well... yes. It is expected of you, is it not? To marry eventually. Produce an heir.’
He studied her carefully, his features schooled into something more sombre.
‘My faith places me at something of a disadvantage. There are many who would object to a match with me.’
‘What?’ she replied immediately. ‘Of course not. Women would line the street for the opportunity to become your baroness. Miss Pearson still waits for you.’
Then understanding dawned slowly and painfully.
Did he truly believe himself unworthy because of the very thing that made him better than most men she had ever known?
‘No sensible woman would reject you for that,’ she whispered.
His gaze sharpened instantly.
‘Am I to understand that you would not object?’
‘Of course not. Minerva was lying to you. I had no objections whatsoever to your faith, so you may put that thought entirely from your mind. You are an honourable man.’
Her expression softened sadly.
‘But none of it matters, because you already told me you would never consider me for matrimony.’
‘I believe,’ he said slowly, ‘my exact words were that matrimony to you would never enter my mind again.’
Her chest tightened painfully.
‘I know.’
He stepped closer still, close enough now that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
His expression remained utterly intent upon her.
Then he lifted her chin again, though this time his touch was almost reverent.
‘Because once the thought entered my mind... it never left.’
Charlotte gasped softly.
‘Oh.’
‘I never cared for Miss Pearson. In fact, I made my intentions clear to her at the ball, and she took it rather well.’
Then his voice softened almost imperceptibly.
‘Since the beginning of our acquaintance, you—and only you—have occupied my thoughts. I simply failed to understand it for a very long time.’
He took her hand gently, his fingers closing around hers with quiet certainty, as though afraid she might vanish if he released her.
‘The most beautiful soul I have ever encountered stood directly before me, and I was too blind to recognise it.’
Charlotte could only stare at him.
‘Oh,’ she whispered helplessly, blushing fiercely.
‘And then, like a thunderclap, I realised—as I proposed to you in the library—that I loved you. And in that same moment, I believed I had lost you.’
The world around them seemed to fade into silence.
Charlotte could scarcely believe his words.
He loved her.
‘I thought I had lost you,’ he continued more quietly now. ‘Especially once I believed the Captain had won your affections.’
‘But I never loved him,’ Charlotte whispered. ‘He merely seemed... safer at the time.’
A faint, embarrassed smile touched her lips.
‘Ironically enough.’
‘You had every reason to choose him then,’ Lord Stanley said quietly. ‘You saved my life, and I mocked you. You offered your help, and I rejected it. I have wished to undo those moments countless times—especially the way I behaved towards you at Lord Bamber’s masquerade.’
His voice faltered.
‘I am deeply sorry.’
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she whispered, though her voice trembled.
‘You are too generous.’ His expression tightened painfully. ‘But if your feelings remain what they were in the library, then I beg you to tell me now.’
Charlotte squirmed beneath his unwavering eyes.
‘I am ashamed of what I said to you back then. I wish I could take back my words.’
‘But what did you say that was not true?’ he asked quietly. ‘I was harsh and dismissive. I behaved abominably.’
‘Do not repeat what I said.’
‘It was your words that forced me to realise how greatly I had allowed the world—and the cruelty of others—to colour my own views.’
His voice softened further.
‘But it was you, dear Charlotte, who reminded me that such people are not my teachers. You reminded me who I am—and who I once was. For that, I shall always be grateful.’
His eyes filled suddenly with tears, and she brushed them away hastily.
‘I never meant to hurt you. Henry, please don’t...’
‘Then tell me you will not leave me,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me you will remain beside me always.’
Her heart settled into a strange, wondrous peace at his final word.
‘Always?’
He did not look away.
‘Charlotte... will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
This time she did not hesitate.
She had heard those words in her dreams countless times.
And now here he stood speaking them with more love than she had ever imagined possible.
‘I will.’
Something within him seemed to unravel then into something brighter and freer than she had ever seen upon his face.
He held her hands a few moments longer, as though reluctant to release them.
Charlotte felt the steady warmth of his touch—and beneath it, something less easily controlled.
‘I had always considered myself a disciplined man,’ he said quietly. ‘You have given me cause to reconsider.’
The softly spoken words did absolutely nothing to steady her.
‘I now find myself,’ he added after a pause, his voice lower still, ‘in the unfortunate position of harbouring thoughts which—for the present—must remain entirely unacted upon.’
Charlotte became suddenly and painfully aware of herself.
A deep warmth rose into her cheeks.
For one suspended moment, it seemed he might forget himself altogether.
But the restraint returned almost instantly.
Slowly—reluctantly—his fingers loosened before he stepped back, though his eyes never left hers. A deep sigh escaped him, as though even that small distance caused him pain.
Silence lingered between them.
Flustered by the intensity of his attention, she cleared her throat with feigned composure.
‘But on one condition.’
Mischief flickered once more within her eyes.
He lifted a brow, though amusement lingered in his eyes.
‘Oh?’
‘We must continue uncovering the Odd Fellows and find some means of deciphering that black book.’
He let out something halfway between a sigh and a laugh.
‘And how precisely do you propose we accomplish that?’
Charlotte smiled.
‘Did I ever mention my friend Miss Anne Lucas? She happens to be remarkably gifted at solving puzzles.’