A Brooding Christmas Promise (Christmas Matches of Worth #2)

Chapter Nine

“Crestwood?”

Charlotte stopped just as Lord Crestwood caught his breath as he turned. The next moment, he had not only taken a step back but had also dropped his arm so that her hand fell back to her side. His eyes were wide, his face now like parchment and Charlotte’s concern grew rapidly. She turned, seeing a young lady standing before Lord Crestwood, her blue eyes searching his face, a familiarity with him in not only her expression but in the way she had spoken to him.

“Maria.”

The manner in which Lord Crestwood's voice droned upon the lady conveyed

to her a sense of profound unease. She did not know what to do, whether she ought

to say something, whether she ought to introduce herself or if she should remain

silent and permit Lord Crestwood to speak.

“Samuel. Forgive me, I…” Her gaze went to Charlotte who offered her a small smile, still uncertain as to what else she ought to do. The lady then dropped into a curtsy, speaking a good deal more formally now. “Good evening, Lord Crestwood.”

Lord Crestwood did not answer. The way that he was looking at the lady made Charlotte frown, wondering what it was about her that was causing such a strong reaction.

And then, she remembered.

Could this be the lady that had broken his heart? The one whom he had been meant to marry, the one who had chosen someone else over him? He had never spoken of it to her, of course, but Charlotte recalled what Amelia had told her. Surely that could be the only reason for a gentleman to respond so strongly. She cleared her throat gently and just as she did so, Lord Crestwood took in a long, deep breath and then closed his eyes before, much to her relief, he spoke.

“Good evening.” Without warning, he reached for her hand and then set it again on his arm, twisting towards her as he did so. “I – do excuse us.” Without offering her a word of explanation, Lord Crestwood began to take his leave of the lady and Charlotte went willingly, sensing that this was not a situation that she needed to be a part of, only for the lady in question to move in front of them, preventing Lord Crestwood from making his way forward.

“Pray, do let us talk for a moment,” she said, her gaze firmly fixed to Lord Crestwood rather than looking at Charlotte. “I know that I am the last person you might wish to see but so much has happened, so much has changed and I –”

“You perceive correctly, Lady Grifford.”

Lady Grifford? Charlotte’s hand gripped Lord Crestwood’s arm for a moment, remembering the name that Amelia had spoken to her. This was, then, the lady who had rejected Lord Crestwood and who had married a rogue instead.

“Now,” Lord Crestwood continued, his voice hard, “if you will excuse us, we are currently in the depths of conversation.” Again, he took a step and again, the lady interrupted him.

“Grifford is dead.”

Charlotte’s heart leapt up in astonishment, sensing Lord Crestwood’s shock. Lord Grifford, the rogue that this lady had married, the one Amelia had believed was now remaining at his estate in order to gain coin for himself, was, in fact, no longer in this world.

The lady lifted her chin. “I am not mourning for him. I have done a few months but that is all. I refuse to do more given how he treated me.”

Sympathy moved through Charlotte’s heart, seeing from the look in the lady’s eyes just how much she had endured by her husband’s hand. Yes, she had clearly done wrong in leaving Lord Crestwood as she had done but there was still suffering there, nonetheless.

“I am sorry to hear that your husband is dead. You have returned to London for Christmas, I see. I do hope that you enjoy your time here back in society.” Lord Crestwood’s voice was still low but there was a hint of softness there, as though the shock of hearing of Lady Grifford’s loss had spoken to his heart. Charlotte, sensing that he was about to take his leave, made to step away but, for what was the third time, Lady Grifford prevented them.

“I did hope that we might speak. There is much that I wish to say.” Looking solely into Lord Crestwood’s eyes, the lady’s voice grew quieter and Charlotte frowned, a strange sense of confusion within her. To her mind, Lady Grifford had no right to ask such a thing of the gentleman though, she considered, she had no right either to make any sort of remark or, indeed, even to feel anything. Whether Lord Crestwood accepted or not had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

Again, there came a prolonged silence and Charlotte looked away, her heart twisting in a most discomfiting manner. To her mind, Lady Grifford was almost enticing Lord Crestwood back into forming a connection with her – a connection which, Charlotte considered, would not be a wise one given what had happened.

And who are you to think such things? The quiet voice of her conscience pricked her and her cheeks went hot. You barely know this gentleman, he has never once spoken to you of Lady Grifford and yet you think you know what is best for him? Come now, stop being so foolish and leave the gentleman to his own thoughts.

“Forgive me.” Lord Crestwood turned to Charlotte and she lifted her gaze to his, wondering what he was to say next. “I have not introduced you to… Miss Millerton.” As he took a breath, Charlotte turned her attention to the lady, a slight sense of awkwardness growing there given that there had been such a long conversation without any sort of introduction.

“My betrothed.”

Charlotte blinked, her whole body slowly beginning to turn to ice. Surely it could not be that Lord Crestwood had said such a thing? They had only just finished speaking about the fact that neither of them desired to be in the least bit connected to another in an intimate fashion and yet now, here he was declaring her to be his betrothed? The ice in her veins had her frozen to the spot, her chest tight, her breathing becoming a little more difficult.

His betrothed?

“Your betrothed?” Lady Grifford, sounding just as astonished as Charlotte felt, looked to Lord Crestwood and then, thereafter, to Charlotte herself. Her eyes were wide but no smile lingered on her lips. “I did not know. But, then again, why should I know such a thing?”

The laugh which followed made Charlotte wince, for it sounded forced and unnatural. It was enough to force her back to life, to have strength return to her limbs as she took in long, slow breaths in the hope of quietening her furiously pounding heart.

“How very good to meet you, Miss Millerton.” This time, Lady Grifford’s voice was a little tight, though she gave no time for Charlotte to respond, looking instead to Lord Crestwood. “Might we meet for even a few minutes, just so that I might speak with you? There is much that I wish to say, much that I wish to apologise for.”

Charlotte swallowed hard, still struggling to understand all that Lord Crestwood had said and why he had said it. Had it been in the hope of dissuading Lady Grifford from seeking out his company? If that had been his reasoning, then it clearly had not made any impact whatsoever.

“It would not be seemly for me to be noticed by the ton in your company and your company alone,” Lord Crestwood said, glancing at Charlotte with something like an apology in his expression. “However, if you wish to speak with Miss Millerton and me, then we might arrange that at some point soon. Now, if you will excuse me, I must continue walking with Miss Millerton.”

It was with a slight stumble that Charlotte let herself be led away by Lord Crestwood. She was breathing hard, her vision a little blurred as she walked back through the sea of faces, trying to understand what had just taken place and what it was he had done.

“I am sorry.”

Charlotte said nothing, Lord Crestwood’s voice low as he leaned towards her just a little.

“I did not mean for that to be said. It was a simple idea, a foolish idea, and before I could let myself consider it for any length of time, the words came out from me.”

With a long breath, Charlotte bit her lip, trying to contain the swell of anger which had suddenly begun to rear itself up over her. “You already promised me that we would be nothing more than good friends.”

“And we shall be,” he promised. “I did not say that for any other reason than to silence Maria’s…. that is, Lady Grifford’s, hope of reconnecting with me in a way that she might find pleasing.”

Charlotte looked at him, frowning. “You mean to say that you thought to use me in order to convince her that you will never again return to her company?”

Lord Crestwood winced. “Yes, that is just as it is.”

“Then how could you do such a thing?” she responded, the anger beginning to seep through now despite her best attempts to hold it back. “You know that I cannot engage myself to anyone! My stepmother will be utterly furious and –”

“I am sure that no-one will know of it,” he interrupted, only to then apologise for doing so. Rubbing one hand over his face, he released her hand from his arm and then stepped back, putting his arms wide. “I apologise. I was foolish, panicking almost, if I am to be truthful. I do not believe that anyone aside from Lady Grifford will know of such a thing, however. She is not welcomed by society given her reputation and all that has happened so I am sure such news will not be spread.”

“And if it is?” Charlotte let out a huff of breath as Lord Crestwood looked away, clearly uncertain. “You did not think of the consequences of this, Lord Crestwood. You spoke without thinking and now we are in a very difficult situation indeed!”

“I will find a way to fix it,” he promised, his hands falling back to his sides. “I do not know what that will be as yet but I assure you, it will not give you any sort of difficulty. Might I call on you tomorrow?”

Charlotte wanted to rail at him, to tell him that she wanted a solution at this very moment but, seeing that she could not have it, closed her eyes and let out another calming breath, her anger beginning to fade. “Very well.”

“I am truly sorry,” he said, in a manner which made her believe he truly was so. “There is a reason as to why I spoke as I did, a reason as to why I reacted as I did, but that is not an excuse. By tomorrow, I promise you, I will have thought of something.”

“I hope you do,” Charlotte murmured, before turning away without offering him so much as a nod.

Making her way through the crowd, Charlotte tried to ignore the sudden thrill which ran up her spine when she thought about being engaged to Lord Crestwood. It was foolishness, of course, for it was nothing more than a moment which would soon fade but, all the same, there was something there that was delighted with the notion that she was now betrothed to a handsome, amiable gentleman. Despite her feelings and her lingering anger, a hint of a smile tried to brush itself upon Charlotte’s lips but she refused to permit it. Picking up a glass from one of the footmen’s trays, she stepped back into the shadows, found a place to sit and remained there.

“He will have a solution by the morrow,” she told herself, quietly. “And then this nonsense will be at an end before it has even begun.”