The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(110)

Dotty tucked her hand in the crook of Merton’s arm. “Thank you for helping to keep the secret.”

“Anything for my family.” He bent and kissed her cheek.

“They are coming,” Hal called from the door at the side of the church.

The children settled down. Dotty and Louisa stood next to Charlotte with Charlie, and Merton and Rothwell stood on the other side where Constantine would be.

Charlotte caught Constantine’s eye as he strode in with her brother. “Isn’t he handsome?”

“Are your insides fluttering as if birds had taken up residence?” Dotty asked.

“I had trouble breathing. It was as if my breath had been taken away,” Louisa added.

“All that and more.” Charlotte’s smile grew as Constantine’s grin broadened.

When he finally reached her, he took her hands. “You had me completely flummoxed. But now that I think about it, I can see the hints our families accidentally dropped.”

“You are happy?” She did not even know why she asked. His eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Can you doubt it?”

“No, never.” She glanced at the clergyman. “We are ready to begin.”

Charlotte had heard the words so often of late; still, she was almost surprised to hear herself repeating them. She wanted to laugh out loud when Constantine’s gaze heated as he promised to worship her body.

When the vicar pronounced them man and wife, he shocked everyone by kissing her at the altar. “Finally.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Finally.”

Constantine turned to leave and she tugged them to the side. “We have to sign the register.”

“I forgot it as well,” Rothwell said.

“Something about wanting to be alone with one’s bride,” Merton added.

“Now that that’s done,” Constantine said, “we have an End-of-Season wedding breakfast to attend. Did you plan our wedding trip as well?”

Charlotte widened her eyes. “Of course not. That would have been much too forward, my lord.”

He chuckled. “What do you think of the Lake District? I hear it is lovely this time of year.”

“What a wonderful idea.” She shot a suppressive look at Dotty, who had gone into whoops.

“I am glad you agree. I might even have a lovely little house near Lake Windermere. With very few servants.”

Charlotte slid him a sultry smile. “Even better.”





Epilogue


Eight months later


Charlotte ambled into Con’s newly decorated study and lowered herself into one of the two leather-covered chairs in front of his desk. How she remained so graceful, as heavy with their child as she was, he had no idea.

“This came for you.” She held out a letter. “It’s from France.”

The only one he knew in France was Aimée, and he had certainly never expected to hear from her. “Open it.”

After neatly popping off the seal, Charlotte spread the paper on his desk. And read, “Mon ami.” She looked up at him. “Did she always call you her friend?”

“Yes.” Now that he considered it, that was a rather strange form of address. Many mistresses referred to their protectors more intimately. “That or Kenilworth.”

“Never Constantine or Con?” Charlotte had a curious expression on her face, and he wondered if he would do well to tread carefully.

“No. She was never that informal. I always thought it was something to do with her being French, but after that last conversation with her, I believe it was her way of keeping a distance.”

His wife nodded as if she understood, and went back to the missive. “‘You may end the account you set up for me. I have married and have no further need of your funds. Trust me when I tell you I have never been happier. I wish for you the same. Aimée.’”

“I’m glad,” he said as Charlotte refolded the paper. “She deserved to find happiness.”

“Yes, she and so many others.” She slid the note across the desk to him. “Are you surprised that she will no longer accept your largess?”

Con put his hand over hers, stopping the motion. “No. She would still see it as payment for what she did in her former life. It would not shock me if she somehow found a way to return all the money.” He glanced down at their hands, and up at his wife. “This belongs in the fire.”

Incinerated. Reduced to ashes, as was Aimée’s past life. Con would not keep anything that could connect her to that past.

Charlotte gazed at him for a long moment, her head tilted to one side. Then she gave an almost imperceptible nod, took the letter to the fireplace, and tossed it in. A few moments later she returned to the chair. “What shall you do with the money if she returns it?”

“Donate it to your charity. It should continue to help others in need.” He reveled in the bright smile she gave him. It had never occurred to him that he could be this happy.

Suddenly, Charlotte’s expression changed to a grimace and her hand went to her stomach. “They are getting closer together and stronger.”

“What!” He jumped up, knocking his heavy leather chair over, and ran around to her. “You’re in labor?” It was too early. She should not give birth for a few weeks. He lifted her out of the chair. “You should be in bed.” Reaching out, he yanked the bell pull, and the door opened. His butler bowed. “Call the midwife and the doctor.”