An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 15.1. Impulsive Passion

   Charlotte should have known that when she fell in love, she would fall hard and with all the impulsive passion of her Brumidge heart. Naturally she would choose the worst man in the world for her. Naturally the course of their love would not run smoothly. She sat for a full thirty seconds, lamenting her fate, stunned by his departure, by what had happened between them.

   Then she sprang off the bed and pulled on her yellow dinner dress to go after him. She wasn't the type to lament for long. She felt abandoned, afraid for him and herself. She couldn't believe they had come together in a blaze of sexual intimacy, and then he had climbed out the window, leaving her to smolder in her bed like a live coal. She could not let him go without—something more. More of him. More of his tormenting, the trouble he brought. A reassurance that he would return, or that nothing would happen to him while they were apart.

   On a more practical note, she noticed that he had forgotten to take the telescope he had stolen from her on his visit to her room. She picked it up from the floor on her way to the door.

   Her heart racing, she slipped into the hall and stole downstairs through the darkened house, then outside into the night. The damp grass pricked her bare feet as she threaded her way around the muddy duck pond to the garden. Benedic had just landed on the ground when she reached him, rising from a crouch.

   "God in heaven!" he claimed when he saw her. "Are you trying to ruin us both?"

   She held out her hand to him. "You forgot the telescope."

   Frowning at her with concern, he took the instrument and tucked it into his waistband. "Thank you."

   "You cannot continue like this, Benedic. Living in a—a wall is not normal."

   "I realize that." He ran his hand through his black hair in exasperation. "Do you realize what you are doing to me? Every time I see you are doing to me? Every time I see you I'm tempted to throw down my cards for the chance to regain my life."

   "But you can't," she said quietly.

   "Not if I mean to bring Edward and those he worked with a justice. I can't trust the authorities to do it for me. I have no idea how many friends he might have, or whom he might hurt next. He doesn't exactly play by the rules."

   She would not argue the point again. He was as stubborn-headed, hell-bent, and honor-bound as any of her brothers. "At least you can make some sort of arrangement to let know you are well."

   He gripped her by the shoulders. The moonlight did not soften the uncompromising angles of his face. His ordeal had left its mark in an attractive austerity. "I'm in no position to be promising you letters, Charlotte. I told you once there is only one man I trust. His name is Aleister Keighly, Viscount Overton. He's the man who helped me stage my own funeral. Should something happen to me, you may go to him, but not until I've done what I need to do."

   "If he's a trusted friend, perhaps I can persuade him to talk some sense into you."

   "Don't get more deeply involved in my problems than you already are. Go back to being the high-spirited lady you were when I first met you. When this is all over, I shall give you anything you want."

   "I haven't been high-spirited for a long time, Benedic."

   He released her with a sudden curse, his gaze focusing on the back of the house. "Someone's coming out here," he said. "Don't give me away."

   "What—"

   "Don't say anything."

   Charlotte whirled around, instantly recognizing her aunt's petite figure charging down the garden path. "What do I do?" she whispered to Benedic's retreating figure.

   "Use your wits, Charlotte," he said unhelpfully, before ducking behind the tree.

   "Do you not see him?" her aunt shouted. "Right there, you dunderhead! Behind that tree."

   "Who are you calling a dunderhead?" Charlotte demanded.

   "You!"

   "I don't see anybody." Which was partially true. Benedic had disappeared behind the tall row of trees that flanked the entry gate, his lean figure blending into the long shadows.

   To her astonishment, Aunt Penelope reached around of Benedic's shadow. "There! There. Now do you see?"

   What a dilemma. Charlotte had no idea what to do. If she admitted she could see Benedic, then his secret would unravel. If she pretended he wasn't there, her aunt would have good cause to call her a dunderhead.