Page 5 of Charity

A dark outline appeared before her and then he was there. Oscar Ryall, Viscount Carrington, filled her vision until she saw none but him. Hands—strong, firm, and terribly warm—wrapped around Agatha and pulled her from the safety of the tree. She shuddered as she was settled against the fine linen and brocade covering Oscar’s body.

“I have you now, precious. I have you.”

Agatha lifted her face away from the warmth of his chest. A quick pant of breath crossed her cheek before Oscar attempted to claim her mouth. She turned her face aside. “You cannot.”

Shifting her hands between them to push away from his body, Agatha ignored the familiar rush of longing to wrap her arms tighter about him. She’d missed him. She’d missed the charming liar far too much.

But the cold rush of reality sobered her. He was a man engaged for an advantageous match. He was to marry an heiress. A woman hailed as a diamond of society. By comparison, Agatha had no place in Oscar’s life except for a sordid one as his mistress.

Oscar groaned, attempting to drag her close again. “Change your mind.”

His ardent whisper brought tears to her eyes, but she pushed against his embrace until there was some space between them. “I cannot be your mistress.”

Oscar’s fingers closed about her hands and trapped her firmly in place. “Please.”

Agatha shook her head and tried to extract her hands from his grip. But he curled his fingers about hers, lacing them together as he had done so often.

The tears in her eyes fell at the familiar gesture. “You know it’s impossible. I cannot be the woman you want.”

“The woman I want is you. Exactly as you are. How can you deny us our only chance for contentment?”

Agatha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d had a lot of time to consider her past behavior, to see that she’d been swept away by an unbecoming lust and lulled by the intimacy of frequent proximity. She should have taken greater care with her heart and kept him, a man far above her station in life, at arm’s length.

But she’d been foolishly smitten by his charm and had missed the obvious signs that they had no proper future together. Oscar held opinions that were so very different from hers. He’d wanted her to warm his bed, but didn’t want to marry her. Why would he? He lived a charmed life, dined among the best circles in London, and frittered away his time with meaningless pursuits.

To her horror, she’d discovered his goal had always been to marry to better his estate, to marry a daughter of a peer and elevate his family in his rarified world. Marriage to a merchant’s granddaughter hardly fit in with his grand schemes.

He must have been vastly amused with her feeble resistance to his seduction.

She pressed her hands to his chest and shoved hard. “You ask me to fulfill a role that is held in low regard. I will not be your mistress. I would become a pariah in society. I won’t risk being denied the right to work with the orphans if rumors of my fall were to spread. Thanks to our past familiarity, I already have a somewhat questionable reputation. But I won’t give up the chance for a meaningful life because you cannot take no for an answer.”

Oscar stiffened. “You spend too much of your time thinking about those damn orphans.”

Agatha pressed the point of her finger into his breastbone. “And you, my lord, think of nothing at all and no one but yourself. You do exactly what is expected of you, instead of what you should. Now get out of my way. I’m going to find my maid.”

CHAPTER THREE

Yet again, Agatha Birkenstock’s tart tongue left Oscar speechless. He dragged in a heavy breath, intent on calming his frantic heart. How dare she label him a heartless bastard? Hadn’t he just fought tooth and nail to keep her safe? Usually her direct way of speaking was one of the things he enjoyed about her. But not today.

Not when his blood was still coursing with a wild desire to thrash the life out of the men who had dared touch his precious Agatha. Not when Oscar was still shaken by his own recent behavior. Behavior that he wished no one would discover. But secrets were hard to keep from society at the best of times, and he was biding time until the news reached the ton’s eager ears. How society would regard him then was anyone’s guess. How Agatha Birkenstock took the news was another matter entirely.

Ahead of him, Agatha was calling for her maid and creeping through the square with outstretched arms. He caught up to her. “You go too far, Agatha.”

She blinked. “Well you, my lord, have not the right to tell me what I should or should not do. Kindly stay out of my business.”

“You are my business.” Oscar dragged her into his arms. She could have been hurt. He could have lost her. He forced a large breath into his lungs and let it out slowly. She appeared unharmed, but it had been a very near thing. What if he hadn’t become so frustrated with his mother’s party and escaped early? Who knew what he would have found.

Oscar ran his hands over her cloak, molding her tighter against him, discreetly attempting to gauge her state of health. It had been too long since he’d seen her without a crowd or closed window between them. Too long since he’d touched her. Yet when she forcefully resisted his embrace, he let her go. He’d never force Agatha to stay, but her need for independence worried him.

As she stepped around him, Oscar caught her arm again and dragged her to his side. “We are not finished speaking about your lack of a suitable escort. Why is a footman or such not with you?”

Agatha stiffened. “Do you listen to me at all, Lord Carrington? Stay. Out. Of. My. Business.”

Her blue eyes blazed with defiance and Oscar’s heart pounded harder in his chest. She was, in a word, a formidable woman. Much like his own mother, with her determination to steer her own path in life. But the path Agatha had chosen would separate them, and Oscar, despite knowing it was in her best interests, was no longer sure he could bear that.

A groan to Oscar’s right startled them both.

Agatha pulled from his grip and rushed toward the sound. “Nell, where are you?”