The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(59)

“It is easy when one has a partner who responds as if she knows my every move.” He searched her eyes as if they could read her thoughts. “What confuses you so?”

Apparently he did know what was in her mind. That was a relief. “You. My reaction to you.”

“We will figure it out.” His tone was deep and firm. As if he knew what to do, how to help her.

If only she trusted he was right. But how could she trust him when she did not even know her own feelings?





Chapter Twenty


This was Con and Charlotte’s second waltz of the evening. Some of the other guests slid looks at them telling Con they were the subject of speculation and gossip. He had done his utmost to ensure the ton knew Charlotte was his. All that was needed was a formal announcement.

Most importantly, Charlotte was finally beginning to soften in his arms, slowly trust him like a nervous filly. He was now certain he would have her as his wife. He’d have to make sure he brought her along gradually, something he’d never had to do with a female before. All his women had been experienced.

He cringed at the thought of Aimée. How many of his other mistresses had been forced into the same life and pretended to like it? Not all of them, he supposed, but too many.

Merton had mentioned the charities he and his wife had established for ladies and other women and children who had been preyed upon by brothel owners and procurers. According to Worthington, Charlotte already contributed far more of her pin money to those causes than she should.

That, Con was discovering, was exactly what he would expect from her. He would take up the cause as well. It would give them one more thing in common, and it was the honorable choice.

He gave her a reassuring smile and tightened his hold on her waist. She wasn’t at all sure about his courting her, but she was giving him a chance to redeem himself in her eyes. And he had been doing his best.

A strange flutter caused his chest to tighten, and he knew his earlier possessiveness would last the rest of his life, as would his desire to protect her.

“You look very severe all of a sudden.” She smiled, and the tightness in his chest increased. “What are you thinking about?”

“You. Us.” His voice sounded as if he had not been speaking all evening—or perhaps talking too much.

A crease formed between her brows, marring the smooth beauty of her skin. “Do you wish you had not agreed—”

“No. The furthest thing from it. I wish there was more I could do to make you feel better about my courting you.” One day in the very near future he would have to figure out just what his feelings for her were. Sometime this evening, they had grown beyond merely wanting her to something else. Something deeper. An answer to Lady Worthington’s question the day he took the children for ices.

The corners of her lips tipped up. “It has not all been bad.”

“We do seem to agree on many issues, and enjoy spending time together.” At least he enjoyed being with her.

“Yes, we do.” She said the words slowly, as if she had not thought about it before.

The set ended. She curtseyed, he bowed, and he made a decision. Taking her hand, he placed it on his arm. “Will you come with me?”

A slight look of hesitation formed on her countenance. “To where?”

“Trust me. I will not harm you, or worsen our situation.” Con stilled, praying Charlotte would go with him.

“Very well.” Once again, she seemed to be working out her path as she spoke.

He threaded their way through the crowd to the French windows closest to them. Turning right, they strolled to the end of the terrace, and there, in the shadows where no one could see them, he placed his hands on her small waist. “I want to kiss you. Like we did before.”

She could not know that it had been years since he’d experienced such an innocent kiss. Back then the innocence had been on his part.

Charlotte stared at him, as if she would discover something she didn’t know. Finally, she nodded. “Yes.”

He lowered his head, and their lips touched. He moved his mouth over hers, waiting for her to return the caress, then she placed her hands on his cheeks, raised up, and kissed him back. The purity in her touch almost brought him to his knees.

“Thank you.” Con touched his forehead to hers.

Even in the dark, he could see her blush. “You are welcome.”

He brushed his mouth across hers again. “We should go back now.”

Charlotte hadn’t known what to expect, but she had not expected a kiss as sweet as Kenilworth’s. Once, she had seen Merton kiss Dotty. That kiss had been demanding and full of passion. If Kenilworth had attempted anything like that, Charlotte would have hit him hard and run. Yet now, now that she had felt his lips on hers again and his hands tightening around her waist, she almost looked forward to the other type of kiss.

But not tonight. Not when her comfort with him was still growing and fragile.

Reaching up, she brushed her mouth against his as he’d done to her. “Yes. We should return.”

His body tensed. Even the muscles in his lean face seemed like steel. “You will be the death of me.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “No one has ever said that to me before, my lord.”

Kenilworth groaned, and she laughed lightly.

“I would like it if you called me Con or Constantine.”