Page 84 of A Perilous Passion

Much as she hated the idea, was Justin close to the truth, just about the wrong person? Rafe had overshadowed her entire horizon and occupied her every waking thought. Had her loneliness, her desperation, catapulted her into his arms? Ought she to prolong their courtship until she knew him better? Until she’d seen what sort of peer he was, how he spent his days, how he entertained his friends, and how he treated his tenants and servants? She couldn’t bear to be united with someone who had no time for those of a lower class, or didn’t care for the poor or the elderly, or found children a nuisance.

Of course, this entire discussion might be moot, should her fears be realized and he came to his senses regarding her stained past, and withdrew his offer of marriage.

Justin slowed his pace. “I can see my words have struck home,” he said. His voice softened as he added, “Just promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

“How people love to treat me as a child and tell me what to do,” she said crossly. “When will everyone finally realize I’m grown up? Just because I can’t swish a sword or give someone a bloody nose, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. It’s vexing.”

“Then I’ll say no more. But before your opinion of me declines still further,” Justin added, “I assure you I will keep the secret of Seabourne’s mission. And of the nature of your…association.”

They’d reached the cottage. The sky was dark and the sun still well below the horizon. Thankfully, no lights shone through the drapes, and there was nothing to suggest any of the household were up yet.

She took Justin’s hand and pressed it between her own. “Will you try and find it in your heart to forgive me? I never expected things to turn out this way. I still care for you deeply and pray we may remain friends. There are plenty of other young women out there ready to fall at the feet of a handsome young man with blue eyes and poetry in his soul.”

He hung his head, not looking at her, and her heart felt raw. He took her hand and kissed it gallantly before turning away and hastening back the way they’d come.

The crisp chill of the early autumn morning echoed her mood as she unlocked the door and entered the silent house. Avoiding the treads that creaked, she made her way to her bedchamber where she stripped off her clothes and got into her nightgown.

She thought of Rafe, out in the wilds with his men hunting for traitors and smugglers, and forced herself to believe he was in no danger.

But she’d not be able to rest until his assignment was over and they were safely wed. Only then would she feel secure in the knowledge that he was entirely hers, and the duties that might take him from her side were not potentially fatal.

Rolling over, she closed her eyes and prayed that sleep would put an end to her fears.

But it did not.

So she deliberately filled her mind with the pleasant memories of Rafe’s touch, the image of his well-honed body, and the words of love he had spoken.

Which only brought a whole other avalanche of fears to her tormented mind.

Thus, she was still awake when Jenny arrived at the cottage to light the stove and start preparing the breakfast. In the next room, Aunt Flora started clonking about as she prepared for the day. Moments later, the door closed and she heard her aunt make her way downstairs.

With a sigh, Charlotte lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She may as well admit defeat and get up.

A muffled sound of voices came up from the kitchen, followed by footsteps clattering up the stairs. A rapid knocking on her door had her up in an instant. She swung it open to reveal a flustered-looking Aunt Flora.

“Whatever’s the matter?” she asked.

“Jenny’s just arrived and told me she heard in the village that the Earl of Beckport is known to be staying in the area under the alias of Mr. Rafe Seabourne and living at Dovehouse Farm. If everybody knows it’s him, won’t that prejudice his mission?”

Charlotte felt the blood drain from her face. Rafe’s presence was known? Her pulse sped. Now his mission would be even more treacherous.

If word reached Lord Culverdale, it would put Rafe in serious danger.

She had to think of something, fast, to save the man she loved!

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Charlotte, sit down at once! I’ll fetch the smelling salts.”

Ignoring her aunt, Charlotte picked up the clothes she’d been wearing the previous day, still a little damp from the dousing, and hastily got dressed.

When her aunt returned, she was dragging a comb through her tangled curls and cursing each time it snagged.

“Sit down!” repeated Aunt Flora, with unexpected authority. “I don’t know why you’re in such a rush. What can you do about anything?”

She sat obediently on the edge of her bed, but when the pungent smelling salts were wafted under her nose, she waved them away. “I’m just so worried. Rafe— I mean, Lord Beckport’s mission was more important than you know.”

Her aunt gazed at her a moment, then sat down beside her. “I may know more than you think,” she said gently. “What can I do to help? You can rely on my complete discretion.”