Seduced At Sunset (25 page)

Charlotte thought about what Adelaide had said
earlier—that we must be forgiving, for we could not know what miseries
Mrs. Torrington had suffered in her life. But Charlotte
did
know, for Drake had told her things about his childhood. He had lost his sisters
to illness and had been raised by a violent, abusive father.

She could only presume that his mother had suffered an
equal degree of despair, for she had been married to that violent abuser and
had watched both her daughters fall victim to diphtheria. Charlotte tried to
imagine what that must have been like. No wonder Drake’s mother was angry and
controlling—and desperate to have a good man for her own husband.

And Mrs. Torrington had not known that Charlotte was that
good man’s illegitimate daughter. If she had known, perhaps she would have made
an effort to win Charlotte’s approval and affections. All she knew was that
Charlotte was the daughter of her rival.

She swirled her whisky around in her glass, then tipped it
up and swallowed the entire contents in a single gulp.

The others were quietly playing cards, glancing over at
her occasionally with concern. Her head was in a fog. All she wanted to do was
keel over sideways and fall asleep right here on the sofa cushions.

She was only vaguely aware of the butler entering the
drawing room, and was startled when he appeared in front of her. He cleared his
throat. Loudly. She strained to lift her heavy-lidded gaze to look up at him.

“You have a visitor, my lady,” he said in his deep,
authoritative voice. “He is waiting for you in the library.”

“Who is it?” she asked, her head swimming and bobbing
about.

“Mr. Torrington.”

That
sobered her up in a hurry.
Charlotte blinked a few times and sat forward. “He’s here? Now? What does he
want?”

“I don’t know, my lady.”

She became aware, suddenly, of Garrett, William, and her
mother, all staring at her worriedly from the card table.

“I will go and see what he wants,” Charlotte said, rising
unsteadily to her feet. She wobbled slightly.

“Perhaps I should go with you,” Garrett said.

“That is not necessary,” she insisted, raising a hand to
object. “I am perfectly capable of...”

What? Descending the stairs without tumbling to the bottom
and falling on her face? Not a certainty... Oh, she shouldn’t have poured that
third glass of whisky. Now she was pickled.

But she had no choice. She had to go down there and see
him. In all honesty, she wanted to see him, for she had been crushed by his
sudden departure and the fact that he blamed her for his mother’s misery.

It was, unquestionably, all her fault. If she hadn’t sent
that letter to William assuring him of his success with Adelaide, perhaps he
would still be at the theater with Mrs. Torrington tonight and none of this
would have happened.

But would that have been preferable?
No,
it most certainly would not, for one of her lifelong prayers had been answered
tonight. Her mother was engaged to marry Dr. William Thomas, the great love of
her life. How could Charlotte wish for anything different?

A few moments later, she was walking into the library,
marveling at the fact that she was standing in the same room with Mr.
Torrington, when a short while ago, she had fully accepted and believed she
would never lay eyes on him again. But here he was. In the flesh. Like a
gorgeous Greek god before her. So handsome and appealing. Her body ached to
touch him and hold him close. What she wouldn’t give to go back to those lazy
days at Pembroke, when they were free to make love every night, when she had
dared to hope that something more would come of this.

“Mr. Torrington,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to
return.”

He was looking down, holding his hat in his hands, turning
it over and over. “How could I stay away,” he replied, “when I could not bear
the thought of your disdain?”

Charlotte frowned in confusion. “It is you who walked out,
sir, and I saw the loathing in your eyes. The disdain was in your camp, not
mine.”

At last he looked up and met her eyes with a look of
intense dismay. “Yes, but that loathing was not directed at
you
.”
He approached her and held out his hand. “You must come outside with me.”

“Why?”

“There is something you need to hear.”

For better or worse, Charlotte trusted him completely and
laid her hand in his. He led her out of the library, across the entrance hall,
and out the front door.

It was a warm summer night and crickets were chirping in
the square. Charlotte felt the effects of the whisky fading, for she was
acutely aware of every sound and sensation—the tap of Drake’s footsteps
down the cement steps, and the warm touch of his hand.

His coach was parked out front. He opened the door and
gestured for her to climb inside. She did so without hesitation, not knowing
what he intended. But she would go with him anywhere, willingly, even though
she still believed he was angry with her for unwittingly meddling in his
mother’s affairs.

Charlotte sat down on the upholstered seat and was
surprised to discover another occupant in the dimly lit interior—Drake’s
mother, Mrs. Torrington.

Drake climbed in and sat beside Charlotte, who straightened
her posture and prepared herself for another verbal lashing from this woman who
must surely despise her, now more than ever.

“Good evening, Lady Charlotte,” Mrs. Torrington said.

“Good evening,” Charlotte coolly replied.

The tension was thicker than turtle soup.

Drake said nothing for the longest time, and Charlotte
wondered why he had brought her here. To punish her further?

“Mother...” he said in a deep voice edged with command.

Mrs. Torrington took in a deep breath at the sound of his
urging, and cleared her throat. “I have come to apologize to you, Lady
Charlotte. My behavior this afternoon was inexcusable, and I was wrong to say
all the things I did. I must also apologize for reading the letter you sent to
my son, which arrived yesterday. I took it and hid it from him. I burned it, in
fact. He did not know you had returned to London, and he did not receive your
request to join him on the river this morning. He never knew.”

Charlotte sat very still while she pondered Mrs.
Torrington’s apology and confession.

According to his mother, Drake never received her letter,
so Charlotte had been correct to give him the benefit of the doubt. But still,
there were so many cruel words spoken in this woman’s parlor that afternoon...

Then Charlotte thought of Adelaide’s wise words again, and
her own knowledge of the life this woman had led. She strove to seek a deeper
understanding.

“Why did you not want me to be with your son?” she asked.
“I care for him deeply.”

Drake’s hand came to rest upon hers, and she turned her
head to look into his eyes.

“I care for you as well,” he said, “and I have made that
exceedingly clear to my mother this evening.”

Charlotte’s gaze darted back to Mrs. Torrington, who sat
across from them.

“I cannot possibly express how sorry I am,” she said. “I
was selfish and I was thinking only of myself.”

“Tell her why,” Drake said, nudging her further when she
hesitated.

Mrs. Torrington raised a handkerchief to her eyes and
dabbed at the corners. “I didn’t want you in my son’s life because I knew whose
daughter you were—Adelaide Sinclair’s, the Dowager Duchess of Pembroke,
William’s true beloved. I knew that William loved her and I resented you
because you brought her back to London. I wanted you and your mother to go
away. I wanted William for myself, for he is the most wonderful man I ever
met.”

Charlotte watched Mrs. Torrington in the flickering light
from the carriage lamp and felt quite certain there was genuine remorse in her
heart, and a hint of shame as well, for Mrs. Torrington had tried to come
between her son and a woman who truly loved him.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Mrs. Torrington asked.

Charlotte felt all the tension and misery drain out of her
body, and took great care in searching for the right words.

“Of course I can,” she said, “for you have been very kind
to me this evening. You have brought your son back into my life, and you have
eased my soul. To think that he never received my letter about joining him on
the river this morning... I thought perhaps he was making me wait intentionally,
so I’d understand he wished to be rid of me.”

“I am sure he would have come for you,” she said, “if he
had known you were waiting.”

“Yes, I would.” Drake leaned close and kissed Charlotte on
the forehead. Her heart swelled with love.

“I couldn’t stay away from you,” Charlotte whispered. “I
had to come back to London so that I could tell you how I felt.”

“If you hadn’t come,” he said, “I would have taken the
train to Pembroke tomorrow, for I felt the same way. I cannot bear to be
without you.”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his
shoulder, while they all sat in silence.

“You should go home now, Mother,” he said, “but I must
stay to have a word with Dr. Thomas. You can send the coach back for me.”

He and Charlotte exited the vehicle, but before they made
their way back to the house, Mrs. Torrington leaned out the open door.

“Will you do something for me, Lady Charlotte?” she asked.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Will you wish your mother well, and congratulate her on
her engagement? Tell her...” Mrs. Torrington swallowed hard and forced the
words out. “Tell her she deserves every happiness. Please extend my good wishes
and felicitations to Dr. Thomas as well.”

“I will do that,” Charlotte replied with a smile. “Thank
you, Mrs. Torrington. That is very kind.”

Drake’s mother smiled in return, but it was colored with
melancholy. Her eyes brimmed with tears she fought to hold back as she closed
the door.

Charlotte vowed to visit Mrs. Torrington the following day
and bring her some fresh flowers, for she was well acquainted with the
heartache the woman would endure over the coming weeks. Charlotte also
understood the importance of friendship at such a time. She would do what she
could to bring some cheer to Mrs. Torrington’s life. Perhaps in time, Charlotte
might even put her matchmaking skills to good use again, for she knew more than
a few eligible bachelors of an appropriate age...

The coach pulled away from the curb. Charlotte turned to
face Drake in the dim light that filtered out from the windows of Pembroke
House. “You mentioned you wanted to speak with Dr. Thomas,” she said. “I hope
you don’t intend to challenge him to a duel, or heaven forbid, a boxing match,
for breaking your mother’s heart.”

Drake chuckled and shook his head. “No, my darling. I wish
only to apologize to him for my behavior earlier. I understand that he has
loved your mother for an eternity, and I cannot begrudge him for being honest
with mine. He did the honorable thing to end it now and follow his heart, for a
man must be with the woman he loves. He cannot let anything stand in his way.
But there is more I wish to say to him. Or rather, to
ask
him, if you will allow it.”

There on the sidewalk, Drake dropped down on one knee
before her and reached into his pocket. “I am in love with you, Charlotte, and
I cannot imagine living another day without you in my life.” He pulled out a
glittering diamond ring and showed it to her. “I need to know that you will
always be at my side, and in my bed. I don’t care where we live—here or
across the Atlantic—as long as we are together. And I will consider
myself privileged to take you to parties and balls and dance with you until
dawn. I want the whole world to know you are mine, for you have brought peace
and happiness back into my life. So please permit me to ask this important
question. Will you marry me?”

Charlotte covered her mouth with a hand and hiccupped.
“Yes, I will!”

His eyes smiled first, then his faced warmed into an
expression of pure joy and relief. He stood up and took hold of her hand. “May I
put this on you?”

“Please.”

Her fingers trembled as he slipped the ring onto her
finger. It fit perfectly.

“It’s beautiful, Drake. I am so happy I could cry. But
when did you decide this?”

“I knew I loved you at Pembroke,” he explained, “in the
forest, when you stood in the rain at sunset. You were the most beautiful
vision imaginable. That was the moment you had my heart forever.” Pulling her
into his strong muscled arms, he held her tight. “Will your father give us his
blessing?”

“Is that what you wanted to ask him?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t see a problem, for he knows true love when
he sees it, and he knows it lasts forever.”

She felt the bond between them spark into a red-hot flame
as his lips found hers and his hands slid around her waist. The kiss was demanding
and passionate and sent her heart spinning into a breathtaking world of
pleasure and joy. He kissed her hard until she feared her knees might buckle
and she might faint there in his arms.

He pulled back and smiled down at her, his silvery eyes
glimmering in the moonlight.

“Good Lord, you taste like a brewery,” he said. “Are you
drunk, my darling?”

“Drunk with love,” she replied with a grin.

He laughed. “You’re going to feel miserable in the
morning.”

“There is no chance of that,” she said, shaking her head,
“for I will be too busy feeling grateful—grateful for the fact that I was
attacked by a purse thief this summer and bashed on the head. How lucky I was
that day.”

“And how lucky I am on
this
day,” he replied. “I will thank the heavens for bring you into my life... until
the day I die.” Then he covered her mouth again in a soul-reaching kiss that
lifted her clear off the ground.