Page 200 of A Perilous Passion

Justin pushed at the unconscious smuggler’s body with his toe. “In any case, I must remove this fellow and be on my way.”

Charlotte moved to help him, but he waved her away. He dragged the sleeping smuggler to the front door, ruthlessly ignoring the bumps the hapless fellow had to endure. Once outside, he heaved him onto his waiting mount. Once his captive was settled across the horse’s neck, he lifted himself into the saddle. Wheeling the animal round, he raised a hand in farewell and trotted off into the night without looking back.

Charlotte’s heart was sore in the knowledge that she had hurt him, but maybe one day there’d be a chance to put everything right between them.

Shaken and weary as she was, there was one thing that buoyed her up.

The knowledge that soon she would be in Rafe’s arms again. He would kiss away her fears, and the world would cease to be upside down.

At least, she prayed it would be so.

Chapter Forty-Five

Charlotte spent all of the following day with a knot of anxiety in her stomach. Rafe would surely want to see her, but what was she to say to him? If he repeated his offer of marriage, how would she answer?

She wanted him with a fierce longing that almost consumed her, but her feelings were ruled by her heart, not her head. The seeds of her doubts tormented her with unanswered questions. Was she too tainted by her father’s name to marry an earl? Would he resent her when the ton rejected their match, and take up his rakehell ways, once more? What would become of them if they married, but their love for one another couldn’t withstand Society’s censure?

Both she and Rafe would suffer shame, ignominy, and misery. How could their marriage survive such an onslaught?

When he failed to appear that day, she despaired that he’d already thought better of his proposal and decided not to wed her, after all.

Flora and Mama bustled quietly around the house, trying to keep everything as normal as possible, though they must have seen her suffering. The fact that they had no words of comfort to give made her feel even more dreadful. By the time she retired for the night, she’d begun to hate Rafe for abandoning her to such uncertainty.

The next morning, after a tearful and sleepless night, the sound of carriage wheels in the lane outside had her leaping up from the breakfast table.

She peeped out the window and saw not one, but two grand equipages drawing up beyond the gate.

“We appear to have an august visitor!” exclaimed Mama.

Charlotte’s knees went weak. Suddenly, in spite of her resolve to be brave, she couldn’t face him. What if he no longer wanted to marry her and only came to let her down in person? What if he still did want to wed? Dare she accept?

Oh, this was all too confusing. The thought of running away and hiding was very tempting.

“I assume that’s Beckport’s carriage,” said Aunt Flora. “It certainly has a very grand crest painted on the door.”

“Of course it’s his,” said Mama. “I know the crests of all the noble families. Look at that splendid team of blacks! Whoever runs the earl’s stables has an excellent eye for horseflesh.”

“The second carriage bears no coat-of-arms, and is far less ostentatious. Though still very tasteful, I grant you,” said Aunt Flora, peering past the curtains.

Charlotte shrank back still further. How could she possibly live up to such splendor? Although she’d pinched some color into her cheeks this morning, and arranged her curls attractively on the off-chance he might come, she wasn’t too confident of the results.

“He’s coming to the door!” squeaked Flora. “Oh my, doesn’t he look handsome? I’ve never seen him so neat and tidy before.”

Charlotte almost jumped out of her skin when the door knocker sounded. No one moved. Both her mother and aunt were staring expectantly at her.

“Well, go on,” Mama said in a stage whisper. “Aren’t you going to let him in? Flora and I will just be in the kitchen clearing away the breakfast things.”

Before Charlotte could protest, they both vanished.

Gathering her courage, she made her way to the hallway and arranged her features in an expression of polite detachment.

She hoped.

And opened the door.

Rafe had just stepped back to look up at her window. He wasn’t thinking about climbing the trellis again, was he? She smiled impishly at the memory.

When he saw her, he faltered, and stood stock still, gazing at her.