Page 58 of The Deceptive Earl

“Mother says it causes wrinkles.”

“I shan’t mind,” Lord Wentwell said.

Charity looked at him suddenly. Was he planning to be with her when she had wrinkles? She could not speak. She stopped in the road and looked at him. His green eyes were very dark and his hand warm on hers. He tightened his grip slightly, and Charity had the feeling if they were not in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, he might have kissed her. Instead he said, “I wish to call upon you.”

“I would like that very much,” she replied, but her thoughts went to her mother, and the fact that the Countess had practically thrown Neville Collington from their house. Well, Charity would just have to figure something out. She would tell her mother she would truly be a spinster if she did not allow Lord Wentwell to call. That was it. It would be Wentwell or no one. While they stood there lost in one another, she noticed Lord Wentwell’s carriage had pulled up beside them on the road. It had pulled slightly in front of them and a servant in well-cut livery jumped from the carriage and ran up to the Earl.

“My Lord,” he bowed low, and then stopped waiting to continue.

Neville glanced at Charity and saw her interest in the young man. “Yes, Danvers. What is it? Why are you chasing me down in the street?”

Danvers shifted from foot to foot clearly in distress over something. “Lord Wentwell, your mother begged me to find you in haste. It’s your brother…”

Charity felt Neville’s arm tense beneath her hand, and she saw a muscle twitch in his neck and jawline. He glanced at her.

“I apologize, Lady Charity, but I must insist on seeing to my brother.” He made a gesture toward his man. “Danvers shall see you to the party. I offer you the most sincere of apologies, but we must continue our stroll at a later date. I will call upon you.”

“Yes, of course,” Lady Charity said.

Charity found that she was happy at his offer to court her, but inside her mind was screaming, No. She did not want the Earl to go so soon. This was not the way this conversation was supposed to go. They were supposed to speak. Now, it might be weeks or months before they could speak again with her mother so against his suit. She dug her heels in. She would not lose him again.

~.~

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Wait!” The word was out of Charity’s mouth before she thought what word should follow it.

Lord Wentwell turned to her expectantly, and she stood tongue tied. Charity wondered briefly, what had happened? She was curious as to what cause would create such urgency. Was his brother hurt? Any of those questions would be rude in the extreme. She searched for another.

“Is it far?” She asked.

“No. Just up the way,” Lord Wentwell replied with a gesture.

“Perhaps we shall make it a side trip. Then you might still see me to the party.” Charity offered. She would like to see where Lord Wentwell lived and, more than she cared to admit, catch a glimpse of his personal life, and they could continue the conversation in the comfort of the carriage or perhaps after he dealt with whatever problem his brother caused. It occurred to her that perhaps only his brother was in residence at his home. There would of course be servants, but that was not the same as a chaperone. “Would it be proper?” She asked.

Lord Wentwell seemed surprised and pleased by her offer to come with him to his home. He nodded. “My mother is at the house, so there will be little room for scandal.”

If she went with him, she could perhaps find out more about this enigmatic man, or she could be ruined. He was still considered quite the rake. She recalled the way he had treated her father and the care that he took with her reputation that day, and she knew she could trust this man. Anyway, she might not get another chance to speak with him. That decided her.

“Then I will accompany you,” she said.

Charity felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of joining Lord Wentwell on this adventure. He seemed worried and so she did her best to contain her pleasure. She wondered what it could be that would cause him to abandon his flirtation at just a word. Was his brother often in trouble? She would not ask, no matter how curious she was. It would be rude.

Lord Wentwell helped Charity into the carriage. He climbed in and sat beside her.

“I do apologize, and I beg your forgiveness for delaying your visit,” Lord Wentwell said.

Charity was more intrigued than worried about her tardiness. Charity inclined her head politely. “Is something amiss? With your brother I mean?”

Lord Wentwell looked at the concern and interest in Charity’s eyes. He didn’t answer at first, and Charity wondered if her question was too personal.

“I do not know how much you know of my family. There have been rumors of course.”

Charity remembered. Several years ago, there was some to do about the war and Edmund’s return from it. She was younger then, and the war seemed far away. She didn’t remember the details of the gossip, so she just shook her head. “If all gossip were true,” she said, “I would never have gotten into this carriage with you.”

“Quite so,” he said. “In any case, my father expected my brother and me to join the military for a time and so he bought us each a commission.”

“I did not know that,” Charity said. “So you were in the war?”