A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(43)

“It is easy to see how the wind blows in that quarter. Evidently the attorney thinks to get his hands on the money.”

“Home ground, Neville,” said another of the officers. “You can’t deny it’s an advantage.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The thrill of the chase is in the challenge. Anyone care for a wager?”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Fury filled Verity. That was why Lieutenant Neville had been so persistent. He was after her legacy. Her fists bunched. Why was it not permissible for ladies to knock down unwelcome suitors in other people’s drawing rooms?

Looking up, she saw a similar murderous rage in Charles’s eyes. The shock of that brought her back to her senses. If Charles took action it would have far worse consequences than if she did. She could always return to Newmarket to avoid a scandal. He would have his livelihood affected if he started a brawl here.

“It seems to me Lieutenant Crisp should apply for a transfer as fast as possible,” she said, with as much boredom as she could summon to her tone. “His fellow officers seem appallingly vulgar.” When Charles didn’t move, she shook his arm. “May we leave?”

Inside the hackney carriage, she leaned back against the squabs, infinitely more at ease than she had been in the house. “Oh, this is better,” she said in relief. “I could barely think with all those people pressing around me. Julia will be sadly disappointed in me, but I do not believe I am cut out for such a vigorous social whirl. I wonder she never tires of the constant round herself.”

Charles remained silent.

He is hurt and angry, and no wonder. “Do you object if I rest against you?” she asked. “Irritation is very fatiguing.”

“Are you sure you trust me?” he said bitterly.

“Dearest Charles, don’t be so ridiculous,” she said, tucking her arm inside his. “I would trust you with my life.”

He sighed and returned from whichever stormy paths his mind had been stalking down. “I apologise. I offer you my escort and then pay you no heed. What else has upset you tonight that you wished to tell me? You should not curl up like this, Verity, it is most improper.”

Good. She had broken through his silence. “Fudge. Who is to see us? Oh Charles, I must tell you about Mama. The most frustrating occurrence, you cannot imagine. Just as we have everything settled, she has decided she would prefer to live in Kensington! In a villa.”

“Kensington?” Charles sounded as horrified as she had been herself when Mama mooted it. “That would be a disaster.”

“So I think too. Kitty will never come to us in Kensington.”

Silence. “No,” said Charles, a heartbeat too late. “It is too close to her husband. She and the child would not be safe.”

That had not been the first thought in his mind. Verity felt as if she had been walking in comfortable darkness and missed a step. She twisted to look up at him. “Why else would Kensington be a disaster?”

It was dim in the carriage and his head was close to hers. The glow of a lamp as they passed showed panic and helplessness and something else, hurriedly suppressed, in his eyes.

In that split second, hanging in time, everything changed. A piercing contentment awoke in her. “Oh,” she said, and her heart banged. Charles. Of course.

“Verity, I...”

Her lips were still parted. She raised them to his at the exact instant the horses slowed.

“Exquisite timing, Charles, as ever,” he muttered, and opened the door ready to hand her out.

The moment was gone. Charles was Charles again, the elder brother John had never been. Verity took a moment in the hallway to shake out her skirts and glance at her flushed face in the glass. How foolish of her. He was being absolutely correct. She should follow his example.

They were friends, that was all. It wasn’t as if she was ever going to marry, not now she didn’t have to. Or did she? If Mama wanted to live in Kensington, Furze House would be impossible. Without their shared income, Verity’s dream of being able to help her sister and those other women would vanish.

Charles had already bespoken tea and was waiting for her to precede him into the salon. She brushed past, caught the warmth of his body and the faint scent of his cologne and was instantly back in the carriage. She was astounded at the enormous jolt of awareness. It was perfectly obvious to her that he felt it too.

What to do? Ignore it? Or acknowledge.

Such a ridiculous question. “Charles,” she said. “If you sit anywhere except next to me on this sofa, I may never speak to you again.”

His lips curved into a reluctant smile as he dropped into the armchair.

“Beast.”

“Minx,” he replied. “Verity, it will not do. I am an attorney. Your attorney.”

That was so much nonsense she could hardly believe he was saying it. She moved up to the corner of the sofa nearest his chair. “Is that why you do not wish me to live in Kensington?”

“It would be a disaster,” he repeated.

She held his gaze. “Why did you come to the Stanhope rout party tonight?”

“Truth to tell, I hardly know.”

Tenderness swelled her heart. The frustrations of the evening suddenly seemed immaterial. ‘You will know when it is right,’ Jenny had told her, and she did. Why had she never realised before? “I do not think we should deal so very badly together,” she said softly.