Now, as she stood in the middle of the small enclosure, gazing at the chaise where it had all taken place, she wondered how she could ever have thought for a moment that such a thing could be true. It could not have been any of those men. But if Charles had truly been here that night... In a sudden flash she
knew,
and without the least trace of doubt, that her seducer had been Charles himself.
It was difficult to take in all the implications of such a momentous discovery, and for a moment, the enormity of it stunned her. Then an overwhelming relief made her feel light-headed, so that she found it necessary to brace her fingertips against the small table beside her. Although she did not attempt to consider why, the thought that it had been Charles comforted her.
But gradually other memories began to trespass upon her wandering thoughts. What was it he had said that night?
Forgive me. I thought you were someone else.
The words came back to her as though it were yesterday, and she suddenly remembered the exceptionally attractive Lady Sabina. Oh, yes, she thought, with the beginnings of resentment, no doubt he
had
thought her to be someone else! He had thought he was making love to another woman, and here she stood, like an idiot, feeling gratitude for what he had done.
Disgust with herself as well as anger towards Charles grew rapidly as she recalled how he had insulted her, humiliated her, at the inn upon learning of her past. And when she thought of the past few days, of how unworthy she had felt, and how grateful towards Charles, she cringed inwardly. This man, this rakehellish villain, for whom she had been feeling such maudlin tenderness only moments before, had ruined her, then scorned her for having been his victim. And as if that weren’t enough, he had then been so high-minded—so very
generous—as
to be willing to marry her, in spite of her depraved character. Well, she would see about that!
A slight noise made Elizabeth jerk her head round towards the doorway. As if conjured up by her thoughts, Charles stood there, glancing curiously round the room before bringing his eyes back to meet hers.
With one of his most disarming smiles, he said softly, “Hello, my love.”
“You!” Elizabeth exclaimed in tones of revulsion. “You vile, loathsome despoiler of women! You—you damned libertine!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Charles stared at Elizabeth in utter astonishment. Now what the deuce had her flying into the boughs? Had she got some maggot in her brain, imagining that he’d been playing fast and loose while in London? He was stung by the injustice of that supposed, but erroneous, criticism, and his brows snapped together in a scowl. He was all the more indignant when he recalled how he’d scarcely been able to think of anything but her for the whole of the time he’d been gone.
“What the devil?” he demanded, taking a step inside the doorway.
As he did so, Elizabeth retreated a step, raising her hand in a gesture to ward him off. “Do not come near me!” she snapped.
“Oh, confound it!” he ejaculated, ignoring her warning and moving closer. “I wish you would stop these high dramatics!”
But as he made as though to take hold of her, she drew farther back, out of his reach. “No!” she cried. “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again!”
“Damnation!” he growled, his arms dropping to his sides. “What the devil is the matter with you?”
“As if you didn’t know!” she retorted, then added, “No! Very likely you do not know, for I am quite sure that you have ravished any number of unwilling females in your long career as a rake!”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wish I had some notion of what you are talking about. I will tell you, however, that you are labouring under a mistaken belief if you think that I have ever ravished any female, unwilling or otherwise. I will admit, however, that I have seduced a few.” His evil genius caused him to add, “And you are even more wide of the mark if you think any of them were unwilling.”
The absurdity of this disputation had suddenly struck him, and he had made the last remark half in jest. After all, she had been aware of his reputation from the start. A grin tugged at his mouth. Surely she could see how asinine this conversation was! But obviously she could not. She seemed more incensed than placated by his poor attempt to inject some humour into the situation.
“Oh, how like you!” she accused. “Well,
you
may find it quite laughable, but I assure you,
I
do not!”
He sighed. “And possibly I would not either, if I only knew what it is that has put you into such a taking. If you are accusing me of having seduced one or more females while in London, I can tell you, my girl, you are dead wrong!”
“No, and I would not care a jot if you worked your libertine wiles on the entire female population of London! There is only one female who concerns me, and that is myself!”
Charles was so thrown off his stride by this statement that for a moment he could only stare again, but finally he said, “One of us is mad! If I have seduced you, I promise you,
I
know nothing about it!”
“No? Well, perhaps I can jog your memory a bit by telling you that I was a guest here at a certain house party several years ago. I was nineteen years of age at the time.”
A wary expression came into his eyes, but he said nothing, so Elizabeth continued. “Is your memory still in need of a nudge? How will it be if I tell you also that this is the second time in my life that I have found myself alone with you in this summer house?”
“Oh, my God!” he muttered, full realization dawning. “It was you?”
She averted her face. “Yes, damn you!”
“Elizabeth...” His voice held an odd note, compounded of remorse and pleading, but she was too overset to hear it. He lifted his arms halfway towards her, then dropped them once more as she stiffened. “What can I say? I am sorry for it. Lord, I was sorry that night, but you ran away so quickly and I could not discover who you were. I was not even aware that you had been here.”
“And
that
is supposed to excuse you?”
“No, of course not, but if you are implying that I am wholly to blame, that is a cock that won’t fight! What the devil were you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
This home thrust did nothing to soothe Elizabeth’s overwrought state. “Oh, yes! Ease your conscience by shifting the burden of guilt to my shoulders! I had merely come out of doors for a breath of cooler air that night. How was I to know that I would not be safe here? Ignorant, green fool that I was!”
“No, I don’t mean to exonerate myself, however—” He stopped himself before he could blunder into worse quagmires. “Well, this is nothing to the purpose. At least I can now make reparation for the wrong I did you.”
Elizabeth said stiffly, “If you are referring to your offer of marriage, sir, it is now quite out of the question. I cannot marry the man who has ruined my life.”
Having rid herself of so much spleen, she should have been the happiest of creatures, buoyed up with a righteous sense of vindication. She had struck a blow in retaliation for the great wrong he had done her. But perversely, she had begun to feel lower and lower with each spiteful remark, hating herself for taking such petty revenge, but somehow unable to stop herself.
Why could he not see how very miserable she was? Why did he not sense how she longed for him to overcome her silly, prideful rebuffs? If he cared for her at all, he would now take her in his arms, despite her foolish objections, and convince her that he truly wished to marry her, that everything would come right for them.
But he did not. Instead, he turned away to stand in the open doorway, one hand braced against the door frame, and a pregnant silence stretched between them.
How could he tell her, now, that he loved her? That he had come to terms with her lack of virginity while in London, and that it mattered not a whit to him? He could not deny that he had been overjoyed to realize that he had been her only lover, that she was the mysterious love he had never been wholly able to banish from his memory or his dreams. But would she believe him if he were to tell her that it would have been of no consequence to him if it
had
been another man? That she had not been out of his thoughts for more than a few minutes for the entire time he was away? That he had come to feel that they were two halves of a whole and that a part of him was missing when he was not with her?
No, he thought not. She was more likely to laugh in his face, and who could blame her? After his damnable jealousy and stupid, ingrained male pride had caused him to behave like some cursed, stiff-necked prig while at the inn, she must loathe him with a vengeance.
He sighed deeply. It seemed to him that the only honourable thing to do, if he wished for her happiness, was to give her the freedom she so desired along with the assurance that her reputation would still be intact.
Without turning to face her, he said quietly, “Certainly, if it is what you wish, I shall not attempt to force you into an unwanted marriage. And you will be glad to know that your reputation has not been damaged by our sojourn at the inn. There has been no talk. Apparently the Parkers had a change of mind about going to Bath, and Margaret had let it be known, while we were away, that I had merely escorted you to stay with a sick friend. Fortunately, Margaret possesses the three attributes most esteemed by the ton—birth, rank and fortune—so you need not fear that her word was not accepted.”
“But—” Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from blurting out that he was
wrong!
That she wished to marry him more than anything on earth, and that her damned freedom meant nothing to her without him. But what a mistake it would be to tell him so when it must be the last thing he would wish to hear. Not when he must have felt such relief at being freed of any obligation to her. After all, if he had wanted her, he would not have given up so easily.
He mistook the direction of her thoughts. “Oh, I know what your aunt told you. I’m sorry to say that our relatives have been meddling again. The visit to the Pump Room, the whispers and looks that so humiliated your aunt were all products of their overly fertile imaginations.”
She had to blink rapidly and swallow the awful lump in her throat before she could say, with a semblance of normalcy, “I see.”
He turned back into the room and smiled, but she quickly averted her eyes to hide the tell-tale moisture in them, and did not see the bleakness in his own eyes. He said a little gruffly, “I wish you happy in your future life, my dear. But I would make one suggestion, if I may.”
“What is that?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Since our betrothal is of so recent origin, it might look better if you were to wait a decent period of time before crying off.”
“Yes... certainly.”
Both stood there as though waiting for something that did not happen, until Elizabeth could bear no more. If she did not leave him, this very minute, she would surely shame herself and embarrass him by throwing herself at him and begging him to have her. Slipping past him, she gasped, “I must go!”
Charles watched her until she was out of sight, then slammed his fist against the door frame, and cursed fluently at himself.
It did not help.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Elizabeth sat in one corner of the traveling chaise, staring listlessly out the window while her mind replayed, yet again, that devastating scene with Charles in the summer house at Langley. Why had she done it? Why had she driven him off with her stupid, pettish temper? She had foolishly allowed her wounded feelings and lacerated pride to betray her into saying things she had not meant, and now Charles was lost to her forever.
If only she could take back the angry words. If only Charles had arrived later after she had had time to put things into proper perspective. If only Charles had seen through her idiotish behaviour.. .if only Charles could love her.
She leaned her head wearily against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Not all the “if onlys” in the world could change one second of what had taken place. She could not take back the words; Charles had in fact arrived on the tail of her shattering discovery; he had not seen through her behaviour, and most painful of all, he did not love her.
She fought back a fresh onset of tears. Lord, one would think they would dry up eventually, but she seemed to have an endless supply. She must stop reliving the past, for it was so damnably futile. But no sooner did she tell herself this than her thoughts reverted to the previous day: surely the most wretched day of her life.
The drama that had taken place in the evening was nearly as difficult, in its own way, as the earlier one with Charles. Elizabeth shuddered to recall how her aunt had received the news that her niece meant to cry off from the engagement and return to Bath the next day. At first unable to do more than utter a series of disjointed and disbelieving ejaculations and phrases, Aunt Emily was soon brought to the unwelcome recognition that Elizabeth was perfectly serious.
She had burst into a fit of weeping and cried,’ “Oh, you wicked, unnatural girl! I had never subjected that you could be so selfish! Oh, to have come so close to having my dearest hopes realized, only to have them deployed in such a way! It is too much! You cannot be so cruel! You must tell Charles you are sorry for whatever it is you have said to him!”
“Oh, Aunt Emily, I promise you I would if— But, indeed, I cannot.”
“And, pray, why can you not?” Aunt Emily demanded. When Elizabeth could only shake her head sadly, she declared, “Oh, you are sharper than a servant’s tooth! Have you no thought for your reputation? In addition to all else, you will be known as a jilt. And what of my feelings? Have you no care for those?”
Elizabeth could do no more than assure her aunt of how very sorry she was, something she was aware of having been obliged to say far too often lately. But Aunt Emily was in no frame of mind to accept her apologies, and in the end asserted that she wanted nothing more to do with a girl so depraved and freakish as to whistle such an advantageous alliance down the wind. She refused point-blank to accompany Elizabeth to Bath.