Chapter Thirteen
Charity stared at Ethan for a long moment, her chest aching.The instant she had woken late this morning, Charity had known he would propose. It was what an honorable gentleman did when he had compromised a lady. She did not owe him her honesty, for that would speak of private, secret longings that this man would most assuredly mock. Men of his ilk did not marry for tender sentiments and passionate love. She was awfully tempted to say yes but wantedso much more from any gentleman she married. She wanted more from Ethan. And it was for that reason she told him the truth. “I do not want to marry for something as cold as honor.”
His gaze skipped over her face as if he wanted to imprint her expressions in his mind forever. It made her unaccountably nervous, his intensity.
“What do you wish to marry for, Charity? Tell me?”
She swallowed, painfully aware of the hope in her heart. “Love.”
His head jerked back as if she had slapped him, which hurt Charity more than she had anticipated. “Your reactions speak for you, my lord.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You merely surprised me when it should not have. I had already thought you a lady like my sister who is full of whimsy. Except my sister is two and twenty and you…”
“Because I am a woman of five and twenty, I should be more sensible when it comes to matters of the heart?” she asked with an incredulous laugh. “We clearly would not suit, my lord. It is a wonder you should even make such an offer.”
He caught hold of her chin, his eyes intent. “Is that the only reason you think we do not suit? Because of sentiments?”
An awareness sparkled through her. “Not just any sentiment, Ethan, love.”
His eyes blazed with emotions and tension emanated from him. “And what is this love?” he demanded. “What is it for you so I will know how to damn well identify it when I see it.”
God, she could bear no more. How confident he had sounded that he had never encountered even a measure of this ‘love’ she spoke about when she was more than halfway in love with everything about him. Was there no affection in his kisses or the tender but also passionate way he had taken her into his bed?
“That’s the beautiful thing about love, Ethan; I think it is different for everyone. I…I saw that my mother and father loved and ardently admired each other. They did so passionately and carefully, always taking the other person's emotions and hopes into their hearts. When I think about marriage, I believe I want that for myself, but I also want different things, and perhaps in those differences, I perceive love. I do know I want a man who is happy with me as I am. That, however, does not mean I am indifferent to change or compromise,” she whispered.
He looked away across the lake for a long moment before he said, “I am not certain of this love you speak about. I can tell you that I appreciate you just the way you are, Charity.”
Her heart stuttered with hope.
“Perhaps the closer we grow in marriage, this love might come,” he said pragmatically. “There are too many people who have marriages of conveniences for whom this could not be a possibility.”
She stepped closer to him. “Can you guarantee it, Ethan?”
“What?”
“That one day you will love me?”
His gaze narrowed on her, and in the depths of his eyes, she spied his annoyance. Charity jerked back, then she stopped herself from retreating. Another whisper of awareness shot through her “You cannot even promise it a little, can you?” she asked. “But I am very glad that you are honest, Ethan, because it allows me not to have unrealistic expectations about you.”
“Charity…” he began, seemingly at a loss how to convince her that marriage was the only course open to them.
She did not want him to attempt to sway her any further, and it was best she departed Dorset as soon as possible. Charity stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his jaw, closing her eyes briefly and inhaling his scent deep into her body. She missed him already, terribly. “I daresay if you had even promised a shadow of it, I would have agreed to marry you.”
Then she turned and walked away, aware of his gaze upon her shoulder blades. Charity joined Jenna in a small sitting room, noting that her friend sewed a large yellow and blue bird onto a piece of calico.
“Is everything well?” Jenna asked without looking up from her task.
“It will be.” Charity replied softly, sitting in a single sofa near the window. She toed of her shoes and curled her feet under her legs.
Marry me.
When will those words stop striking at her heart? It would be grand to be a mistress of this home, and wife and countess of the formidable and well-respected Earl of Ralston.
Oh God it would be so wonderful.
Yet how could she marry without sentiments when for so many years that was what she longed for? Reasonably it could be too soon to anticipate love, she thought. We have beautiful passion between us, and laughter. Perhaps she had read him wrong, and perhaps he would eventually come to love her. With a sigh, Charity realized there was just too many perhaps.
“Do you want to join me?” Jenna asked, a touch of concern in her eyes. “You seem out of sorts.”