Charlotte's Control, page 26
Charlotte did not notice as she was sitting to pour tea.
Advancing on her, he chose the settee.
She offered tea and he waved it to the table.
He produced the small velvet bag he’d been carrying for days and dug in it for the first thing he wanted to offer. This one was the gift he was least sure about, but he felt it was important to lead with it.
“Mistress, I love you with my whole heart, and I know you love me.” He took her hand in one of his, still holding his gift tight in the other closed fist. “I do not ever desire to replace your first husband in your affections, nor do I think I could. Indeed, I am grateful to him for molding you into the perfect fit for me.”
Her hand trembled in his.
He squeezed it once before opening his hand to show a filigree setting for around the heart pendant she wore, the fine gold design dotted with a few tiny diamonds. “I offer you this to enhance your pendant. In some ways, Charles is at the core of what we now have. We’ve built on it and expanded it to make us what we are. And the diamonds are for the stars in the sky that first night I met you, the same ones which will light our nights as long as we live.”
Charlotte was crying silent tears, her lower lip quivering with each breath sucked in as her gaze flicked between his face and the setting and back.
“Oh, Mistress, no. Please do not cry. I should have said this sooner. If you are not comfortable changing your necklace, I will return this to the jeweler, and you can pick what you want. I simply wanted to show you my respec—”
Her finger on his lips stopped his words.
“William. It is lovely. Both the sentiment behind it and the piece itself are absolutely beautiful, like your soul. I could never have imagined such a thing, but ’tis perfect.” She was sobbing between words and he slid to the edge of his seat, alarmed. “Thank you for this. I know you don’t mind references to my prior life, but hearing those words lightened something in me.”
He leaned in to kiss her, wiping her tears with his thumbs.
Why had he thought that was the hard part? Asking someone to wed them, even when she’d as much as said she would, was intimidating at best, and terrifyingly vulnerable at worst. He gulped a breath and slid to the floor, forgoing the footstool to kneel at his Mistress’s feet.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlotte gaped at him. Now what was her puppy doing? She needed him to hug her before they began their games. Reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, she yanked her arm back when he twisted back toward the settee.
He’d left the velvet pouch there. Now, he grabbed it and produced a folded piece of paper, handing it to her.
If to delight man’s wish, joy e’er unlooked for, unhoped for,
Falleth, a joy were such proper, a bliss to the soul.
Then ‘tis a joy to the soul, like gold of Lydia precious,
Charlotte mine, that you come to delight me again.
Come yet again long-hoped, long-looked for vainly, returnest
Freely to me. O day white with a luckier hue!
Lives there happier any than I, I only? a fairer
Destiny? Life so sweet know ye, or aught parallel?
She read through it again, noting his substitution of her name in the poem. Just as the diamonds on the filigreed pendant symbolized the night they met, this Greek poetry was the epitome of their path to love. Their discovery of shared interests and intellectual pursuits. More, it was the method he’d used to entice her into what had felt like a completely unsuitable relationship, more alluring than any restraints she’d used to seduce him.
He was shaking the velvet pouch into his other hand. “Mistress, if I may give you this small token…”
She gasped.
A gold sparrow brooch, encrusted in garnets, lay in his hand. Again, her puppy had chosen the perfect gift for its beauty and symbolism. They had long discussed Catullus’s use of the sparrow in his poems to his lover, and the significance of it. In the end, both of them had believed it represented the lovers’ feelings for each other that they considered precious and fragile, with which they wanted their lover to take special care.
Still kneeling, William reached for her hand. “Please, Mistress. Will you do me the utmost honor and allow me to serve you for the rest of our lives together? To give you happiness, engage your brain, and support your independence in every way I can think of—and more, every way you direct? Will you be my Countess as well as my Mistress?”
Charlotte was weeping again before he finished his first question. She clutched his hand, unable to find embarrassment at her uncharacteristic mawkishness, but also unable to answer him through the emotions clogging her throat.
He sat motionless, unblinking, awaiting her response.
She wasn’t sure he was breathing. She’d best answer him.
She began, “William, I went to that ball to start to find something that would at least substitute for what I had in my marriage. Instead, I found a young puppy, brash but eager to please, smart but willing to follow, helpful but supportive of my independence.”
He blinked. He breathed.
She continued, “You are more than I could have ever hoped for, more than I likely deserve, and I am in love with you in more ways than I knew even existed. I will give you all of those things, along with punishments, encouragement, and the odd financial advice”—she winked—“for the rest of my life.”
He chuckled but grew serious again in a moment, standing to tug her upright. Wrapping his arms around her, he clutched her tight, his body trembling against hers.
Charlotte clung to him, one hand still holding the paper and brooch.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her hair. He sniffed and wiped his hand over his face before releasing her.
“You did well, puppy.” She smoothed his hair with her empty hand. “I did not expect you to have things arranged in readiness, although I suppose I should have.”
“I assume—as Edward does—that you will negotiate the marriage contract.” His smile was smug.
“Gracious. You really were prepared.”
His smirk lingered.
“However, none of this negates the fact that you dragged me several blocks without permission.” She attempted to look stern.
He bounced on his toes, eager as ever for whatever she had in store for him. She bit back a smile.
“I locked the door, Mistress. And as you referenced punishments as part of our vows a moment ago…” He dropped back to his knees. “How may I serve you?”
Her smile blossomed. This second chance at a lifetime of love was going to be fun.
* * * *
After a week of William cutting his work days short to dine with her morning and night, Charlotte shooed him home to refocus on managing his family’s affairs. She hated them living separately, but that would change soon, also. The first two banns had already been posted, and they would review wedding plans and living arrangements that evening over dinner at his family’s home.
Ruth had issued the invitation days ago, but Charlotte had not been feeling well. She still wasn’t, but she was determined not to cause any further delays for the Stantons in settling their future.
She lingered over her morning toilette before going down to nibble on toast and sip tea. When this stomach upset came on, she’d suddenly craved ginger marmalade on her toast, which she had always taken with butter alone or a dash of strawberry preserves. The ginger helped settle her nausea, which she assumed was the reason.
Unable to face the newspapers that day, she wandered listlessly into the library and to the settee in the small seating area there, carrying her tea and toast with her. She stared at the unlit fireplace, contemplating what she needed to get done that day if she could find the energy. Correspondence, following up on one investment, perhaps scheduling a visit with Belle. Still considering where to start, she leaned back.
Jerking awake at a knock on the library door, she checked that she wasn’t still holding her teacup. Thankfully it was in its saucer on the low table in front of her.
Her butler stood by the door. “Apologies for disturbing you, madame. Miss Rossi is here. May I show her in?”
As he finished the question, Belle pushed past him. “Thank you, you needn’t bother. I know the way.” She winked and nudged him on the way by, outrageous as ever.
Her gaze found Charlotte on the settee, still loose-limbed against the back cushion, and her jaw dropped. She hurried over. “Are you all right, Char?”
“I am fine.” Charlotte struggled upright from her half-prone position.
Belle leaned over to feel her forehead. “Hmm…no fever. Do you want to have a lie-in?”
“’Twouldn’t be much of a lie-in as I’ve already been up.” Charlotte muttered bad-temperedly. She hated people fussing over her, although if she had to choose, her puppy’s fussing was the least invasive. And most cuddly.
“Well, then.” Belle wandered over to the table, made herself a cup of tea, and returned. “What is the matter? And is that ginger marmalade?”
“My stomach has been upset for days, and I haven’t been sleeping well. It seems to like the ginger sometimes.” Charlotte shrugged.
Her friend’s expression went from curiosity at her sudden change in breakfast preferences to contemplative. “Anything else? Fever? Chills? Headaches?”
“No. Just the queasy tummy. And the sudden ability to sleep in place whenever I sit still for more than a few minutes, except when I am in bed, where I toss and turn for hours.”
“Even with puppy there?”
Charlotte smiled. “Less so, but yes, even then.”
Belle had a strange smile on her face. She tilted her head at Charlotte, as though searching for something in her expression or answers. “Could it be your womanly time?”
Charlotte squinted and cast her mind back. “Perhaps. I last remember that…huh. Just after the funeral, but then I must have had it since. That was nigh on three months ago, was it not?”
“Yup.” Belle’s lips smacked, making the word pop. Her grin threatened to split her lip.
Charlotte frowned at her in question, still running through the weeks in her head, trying to remember her last menses.
“So. Three months ago.” Belle’s tone was provoking, like Charlotte was supposed to understand something.
Not in the mood for games, she pushed back at her friend. “Belle, could you just spit out whatever is going on in that head of yours, please? I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“You haven’t had your flux in three months. You’ve been having untold amounts of sex with a virile, and may I say divine, young man. Now your stomach is queasy, particularly in the morning.” Her eyebrows raised. “When you catch up, you may state clearly and often that I. Was. Right.”
Charlotte frowned, thinking. Then with every word of Belle’s last sentence, her eyes widened and her brows rose. She fluttered her hands, something she’d never done in her life. “Belle! It cannot be. No! Belle? Fancy that!”
Belle smirked.
Charlotte wanted to jump for joy, but then worried if that was permissible. Her hand crept to her belly, and she imagined William’s reaction. A smaller puppy to love. Or oh gracious, he’d be putty in a daughter’s hands. She laughed even as she began to cry.
Belle waved her hands, her palms facing Charlotte, rolling her eyes. “No, no, no. None of that. Gah, I forget how emotional women in your condition can be.”
But these were happy tears. And scared tears. And tears of wonder. She could not believe it. Should she call a physician to verify? Belle would know. “Please. Don’t tease me. What other symptoms would there be?”
“Are your breasts more sensitive or swollen? Any change in appetite or food preferences, like, oh, say, marmalade? I don’t know much more than that, honestly, but I can get my physician here within the hour I suspect.”
Charlotte grinned and nodded through her tears at each question then reached out to clasp her friend’s hand. “Yes, please. Let us do that. I want to be sure—well, as sure as we can be. And to know what to do to ensure I stay healthy.” Her hand remained cupping her stomach, still flat, to protect the life that might just be growing in there.
“Gracious. Could it really be?” Her tears intensified as hope burst within her. She thought she’d had everything she wanted. But she’d felt guilty for robbing the Stantons of their legacy.
“Oh, no. What if it’s a girl?” She’d giggled at the idea of a daughter, but William needed a son.
Belle tsked and Charlotte realized she’d asked that out loud.
“Then nothing will have changed. You will wed the second love of your life just as you’d planned. And maybe in another year, you are blessed with a son. William has made it clear he does not care either way.” Belle reached for her hand and dabbed at Charlotte’s tears with her rose-scented handkerchief. “I am so happy for you, Char. You deserve William. You deserve this. And Charles would have been beyond ecstatic for you.”
“Yes, I believe you are right. I have thought about that a lot these past months and I know he would have wanted all this for me, just as I would have for him.” She took the handkerchief from Belle to wipe her face, then reached for her hand with a solemn look. “I know this goes without saying, but please do not tell anyone until the physician confirms it, I tell William, and we are sure it ’tis going well.”
“Of course. If you do one thing for me.”
Charlotte nodded and, bracing herself, took a deep breath in. “You. Were. Right.”
The women laughed uproariously until they lost their breath, still holding each other’s hand.
Chapter Thirty-Six
William stared at the tree. Charlotte had been acting strange the past week, and then had given him some story about creating anticipation for their wedding night by denying him entrance these past two days.
However, his shoulders had begun to creep up around his ears with concern over what was bothering her. His fears had escalated to worrying that she would leave him standing at the altar. The result was that he needed to see his Mistress tonight.
She knew locked doors had never stopped him, but he admitted that he was glad tonight would be his last night of tree climbing. ’Twas unbecoming for an earl. He snorted a dismissal and began his ascent.
At her window, he found her pacing the length of the room. Concerned at that behavior from his usually serene Mistress, he hastened over the sill.
She turned and he gave her his best innocent puppy grin.
Sighing, she set down the teacup she held.
The cup was also unusual. He’d only ever seen her drink wine or sherry at night. He sniffed, smelling ginger.
“Mistress? Are you quite all right?”
“Puppy. I suppose it was too much to ask for two and a half days? I suppose I should feel flattered.” She was shaking her head.
He could not detect whether she was truly upset at him or simply distracted. Going to her, he tugged her over to the chairs. As she sat, he grabbed a decorative pillow off the bed and knelt on it at her feet.
“Please answer me. Is anything amiss? Are you having doubts about tomorrow?” His throat closed over the last question and his voice was muffled.
Her hand went to his hair, soothing them both with the familiar action. “Oh, no. I am sorry to worry you. No, I have no doubts whatsoever.”
He gusted out a breath.
She smiled at him.
“I am certain you have had something on your mind this past week, though. If we are to be partners, I hope we will share everything—hopes and dreams, yes, but also concerns and worries. I can serve you best when I am informed.”
“You are right.” It was her turn to sigh. “I apologize. I needed time to absorb it myself and then I did not want to…worry you.”
“Well, like it or not, I am concerned. I shall fret less if I know what to worry about. Is it bigger than a bread basket?” He asked with a smile.
She giggled.
Ah, that sound made him happy. He placed a hand on her knee to encourage her.
“Not yet, but it will be.” Her hand twitched under his.
Huh. “’Tis something that grows that has you dithering.”
She had not stopped grinning since his question. Now, she cocked her head and clarified, “I suppose I stated it poorly. I did not want to…get your hopes up.”
He squeezed her hand once. “An investment perhaps?”
“Hmm. I suppose you could call it that. ’Tis certainly the result of a deposit.” And she was off into peals of laughter.
He frowned in concentration. “So ’tis financial.”
“No, the heart of it is not, although there are financial repercussions.”
“Mistress! Please, stop teasing me.” He threw his hands up. “I’ve been plagued by anxiety these past days. And I’m guessing you’ve had this…information for that long.”
“Right, then.” She took a breath. “You should sit up here for this.”
His eyes widened as she patted the chair next to her. He obeyed, but asked, “Why?”
“Because ’tis something that we are both equally responsible for and shall be for a very long time.” Now that her hand was free, she slid it over her lower belly.
He watched her, waiting for her to reveal this mystery that had her pacing the floor for a sennight.
“William, we are expecting a baby.” It was her turn to watch him.
“A what?” His thoughts stuttered, struggling to absorb this. After all their planning, her assumed barrenness…a baby. Unable to stay still, unsure what to do, he stood, then sat, stared at her for a second, then stood again. “Mistress, are you sure? A baby? Really?”
She was nodding, her eyes sheened with tears.
He threw himself to the ground before her, resting his head on her lap, his arms going around her hips. His Mistress had part of him in her, that would grow into a life they’d made. He was not sure he was ready to be a father, but blast, he hadn’t been ready to be an earl and he was doing fine for the most part. They’d learn it together. And his mother would be over the moon.
