Page 6 of A Baron’s Most Inconvenient Marriage (Delightful Lords and Ladies)

Chapter 6

“Your brush strokes are becoming as tempestuous as your mood, sister.” James observed from the morning room doorway, watching as Charlotte attacked her canvas with perhaps more vigor than artistry. “Though, I must say, the technique creates a rather striking effect.”

Charlotte did not look up from her work, where turbulent blues and stormy grey’s warred for dominance like opposing armies on a battlefield. “If you have come to defend William’s mule-headed scheme, you might as well save your breath.”

“On the contrary, I came to tell you that Sebastian’s carriage was just spotted turning into our drive.”

The paintbrush slipped from Charlotte’s suddenly numb fingers, leaving a glaring streak of Prussian blue across the painting. “Your attempt at humor is deplorable, James.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but I am not attempting amusement, sister.” Her brother’s voice held that particular tone of careful neutrality that meant he was trying very hard not to smile. “Though, your expression is rather priceless.”

Charlotte’s heart performed a series of complicated maneuvers that would have impressed even the most accomplished ballet dancer.

She looked down at her paint-stained apron, felt the smudge of cobalt blue drying on her cheek, and sighed at the complete and utter disaster that was her morning’s artistic endeavor.

“I am not at home,” she declared, reaching for a cloth to wipe her hands. “Tell him… tell him I have gone to visit Aunt Cecelia. Or joined a convent. Or been carried off by pirates.”

“Pirates? In London?” James lifted an eyebrow. “You need to put more effort into your excuses, sister dear.”

Before Charlotte could formulate a properly seething response, their mother’s voice carried up from below, pitched high with excitement. “Charlotte! Lord Blackthorn has come to call on you!”

“Perhaps the pirates could be persuaded to make a detour inland,” Charlotte muttered, frantically trying to restore some order to her appearance.

The mirror showed just how much of a lost cause she was—her dark brown hair had partially escaped its pins, her cheeks were flushed, and that rebellious streak of blue paint refused to be budged.

“Come now,” James said, his voice gentler. “Sebastian has most certainly seen you in worse states. Remember the time you fell into the duck pond attempting to rescue that water lily?”

“I was twelve then, and he was just William’s friend.” Charlotte abandoned her attempts with the paint smudge.

“And now?”

“Now,” Charlotte breathed, “he is a baron, and I am supposedly a lady, and this is completely—”

“Charlotte, dearest!” their mother’s voice held that particular note that suggested proper behavior was hanging by an increasingly fraying thread.

“Coming, Mama!” Charlotte called back, then turned to James in desperation. “Help me?”

Her brother’s expression softened. “Always. Although, in this particular case, I do believe honesty might serve you far better than any clever scheme Colin and I could devise.”

“Honesty?” Charlotte smoothed her skirts with paint-smudged fingers. “About what?”

“About why the mere mention of Sebastian’s name turns you the same shade as that lovely crimson paint you are so fond of using.”

Charlotte felt her cheeks heat further. “I am entirely sure that I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, James.”

“Of course not.” James offered her his arm with elaborate courtesy, “Just as I haven’t the faintest idea why you kept that sketch of him from last summer’s house party hidden so deftly inside your portfolio.”

“James!” Charlotte hissed.

“Shall we?” he gestured toward the door with his free hand. “Before Mother decides to send a search party? I do believe Colin is already implementing our plan to keep her occupied with that new shipment of fabric samples from Paris.”

“Have all of my brothers suddenly turned into conspirators?” Charlotte took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I suppose I cannot hide in here forever.”

“That’s the spirit.” James patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “Though, if I am being completely honest, the paint adds a certain… artistic flair to your appearance, sister. Very … avant-garde.”

“You are supposed to be helping .” Charlotte informed him, but she allowed him to lead her toward the stairs, each step feeling like another move in an elaborate game she had not agreed to participating in.

“I hate this,” Charlotte said under her breath.

“No, you do not.” James’s voice held absolute certainty. “Nor William. Just as you do not hate Sebastian, no matter how much his high-handed attempt at rescue might have wounded your pride.”

Charlotte started to protest, but they had reached the lower hall. Through the partially open parlor door, she caught a glimpse of Sebastian’s tall figure, his curly dark hair and perfectly tied cravat presenting an image of such flawless propriety that she felt suddenly, acutely aware of every paint stain and loose curl.

“Ready?” James murmured beside her.

“Most decidedly not.” Charlotte replied honestly. But she lifted her chin and straightened her spine, channeling every lesson in deportment she had ever received. “But I suppose that hardly matters.”

Charlotte stepped forward and entered the parlor with all the dignity she could muster, which admittedly was not much, given the state of her. Sebastian stood by the window, his robust figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the morning light. At his side, William maintained the proper appearance of a chaperone while managing to look simultaneously smug and apologetic.

“Lord Blackthorn,” Charlotte executed a curtsy that would have made her deportment teacher weep—though whether from pride or despair, that remained debatable. “What an… unexpected pleasure.”

Sebastian turned, and something flickered across his face to quickly to name. Was that amusement at her disheveled state? Disappointment? Regret for this whole awkward scheme?

“Miss Fairfax,” his bow was perfectly proper, though his voice held a warmth she had not expected. “My apologies for interrupting your artistic endeavors.”

Charlotte resisted the urge to touch the paint smudge on her cheek. “Not at all, my lord. I was merely attempting to capture the essence of an approaching storm.”

“Successfully, I’d say, judging by your…” he gestured vaguely toward her paint-stained hands.

“Yes, well, some of us prefer to engage directly with our subject.” The words emerged sharper than she had intended, earning her a warning cough from William.

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “As opposed to those who prefer to manage things from a safe distance?”

Charlotte felt her cheeks heat up. “My lord, if you have come to—”

“I have come to apologize, Miss Fairfax,” Sebastian interrupted, the words emerging smoothly, and with quiet authority. “And to present a proposal of my own, should you be kind enough to hear it.”

Charlotte’s heart performed another one of its increasingly athletic maneuvers. “I believe I have had quite enough proposals lately, my lord.”

“Even ones delivered with complete honesty and no strategic maneuvering, whatsoever?”

“Does such a thing exist?” Charlotte moved to the settee, needing the stability of proper seating arrangements before her legs failed her completely. “Particularly among the nobility of London?”

Sebastian followed her lead, taking the chair opposite while William stationed himself by the door like a particularly well-dressed sentry. “There can be, when both parties agree to speak plainly.”

“Plain speaking?” Charlotte couldn’t quite keep the skepticism from her voice. “From the man who once spent an entire evening discussing the weather in increasingly elaborate metaphors?”

“That was…” Sebastian’s voice wavered momentarily. “before my father’s death.” Something raw flickered beneath his controlled expression. “Before I learned that some burdens require direct address rather than elegant circumlocution.”

The admission caught Charlotte off guard. Sebastian had never truthfully spoken of his father’s death, not even to William. The pain in his voice made her own hurt pride seem small and petty all of a sudden.

“What precisely are you proposing, my lord?”

“A courtship,” he said simply, though there was something in his voice that send a pleasing shiver up Charlotte’s neck. “Not a strategic alliance or a charitable gesture, but as a mutually beneficial arrangement between… friends.”

Charlotte’s heart dipped a little at the word ‘friends’ but she maintained her composure. “Mutually beneficial?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow. “Do elaborate, my lord.”

“You are in need of protection from society’s less charitable members. I find myself needing respite from my mother’s increasingly desperate matchmaking efforts.” Sebastian leaned forward slightly. “But more than that, I find myself in need of… perspective.”

“Perspective?”

“On my estate. On society. On how to balance duty with… with living.” His grey eyes held hers with unexpected intensity. “Your practical knowledge of estate management, combined with your utterly refreshing inability to bow to convention—these are things that can be valuable. To Blackthorn Hall, and to me.”

Charlotte studied him for a moment, looking for any sign of pity or condescension. But, she only found earnest fatigue and something else, that might have been hope.

“So, you are suggesting I be what? Your social shield and unofficial estate consultant?”

“I am suggesting,” Sebastian said carefully, “that we help each other navigate these waters we find ourselves in. No pretense, no strategy. Just honest friendship and whatever natural developments might arise from it.”

“Natural developments?” Charlotte couldn’t quite keep the tremor from her voice as her heart performed a catapult within the confines of her chest.

“Life rarely follows man’s carefully laid plans.” Sebastian’s smile held a hint of his old self, the more carefree version that often displayed a sense of humor. “As I believe your adventure with Lady Cavendish’s punch rather dramatically demonstrated.”

Charlotte felt her lips twitch into a slight smile, despite herself. “That might be considered unkind.”

“Perhaps. But honest.” Sebastian’s expression sobered. “Which is what I am offering to you now. Complete honesty between us, no matter what comes of this arrangement.”

“And if nothing comes of it?”

“Then I suppose we will have spent several months in the company of a dear friend, while successfully deflecting what we both desperately needed to.” He spread his hands. “A favorable outcome, by any measure.”

Charlotte glanced at William, who had maintained an unusually long silence. Her brother’s expression gave nothing away, but she knew him well enough to read the tension in his stance.

She turned back to Sebastian, weighing his words against her own tangled emotions. “And you truly believe this could work? This… honest courtship?”

“I believe,” Sebastian said softly, “that we will never know unless we try.”

Charlotte drew a careful breath, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. Through the parlor’s open windows, she could hear her mother’s delighted exclamations as Colin showed her yet another fabric sample, buying precious time for their conversation.

“Very well,” she said finally, surprising herself with the steadiness of her voice. “But I have conditions.”

Sebastian’s eyebrow rose with interest. “I would expect nothing less from a Fairfax.”

“First, there can be no pretense between us.” Charlotte lifted her chin. “If you find my behavior shocking or my suggestions relating to your estate impractical, you will tell me directly.”

“Agreed.” Sebastian nodded. “And in return I believe you shall grant me the same honesty?”

“Only if you can handle a woman critiquing your handling of tenant farmers.” Charlotte simply could not resist the small dig.

“I will do my best,” he said with a faint smile. “After all, your father’s methods have proven quite successful. I shall try to remember that in moments of… reprimand.”

“As for my second condition,” Charlotte smoothed her skirts, trying her very best to ignore the paint stains on them. “This arrangement ends the moment either of us finds it… uncomfortable.”

“Define uncomfortable.”

“Should you meet someone you truly wish to court,” Charlotte managed, proud that her voice did not betray her true emotions. “Or if I do. No obligations. No hurt feelings.”

Sebastian studied her for a long moment. “Agreed. Though I think we both know my mother’s candidates are unlikely to present serious competition.”

“Thirdly,” Charlotte pressed on, ignoring the way her heart leapt at his words. “You must promise not to treat me like some delicate flower in need of protection. I may have mishandled the situation with Lord Gillespie, but I am not made of glass.”

“I am well aware of your resilience, Miss Fairfax,” Sebastian’s voice held a warmth that made her cheeks heat up once more. “Though I will not apologize for wanting to shield you from unnecessary pain.

“So, it is settled then.”

“Not quite,” Sebastian said, with a teasing glint in his eye. “I have one condition of my own.”

“And what else, pray tell, does Lord Blackthorn require of me?”

Sebastian’s eyes burned into hers with a quiet intensity. “This is an arrangement of convenience and of mutual benefit. Not a traditional courtship. Though, I am well aware that we will have to make it seem as such, we should be careful not to develop…” Sebastian trailed off, unsure how to voice his thoughts.

“Feelings?” Charlotte managed, though her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

“Yes. Precisely that.”

Well, no trouble at all, seeing as I do not need to fall in love with you… I have been since I was eight years old , Charlotte mused to herself as her heart suddenly felt utterly deflated.

William cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should discuss the practical aspects of this arrangement?”

“Indeed,” Sebastian straightened, his demeanor all business now. “I thought perhaps a ride in the park tomorrow morning? With William as chaperone, of course.”

Charlotte’s spirits lifted at the suggestion. On horseback, she could almost forget the constraints of society and the weight of expectations. “That would be agreeable, my lord.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian stood, every inch the proper gentleman again. “Shall we say, ten o’ clock? That should give the gossips plenty of time to notice without seeming too eager for their attention.”

“You seem to have given this a fair amount of thought,” Charlotte observed, rising as well.

“I have learned that the best battles are won through careful planning.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “Though I must say, Miss Fairfax, your artistic addition to today’s meeting was an unexpected, but charming touch.”

Charlotte’s hand flew to the paint smudge on her cheek as a smile crossed her lips. “I am quite sure I do not take your meaning, my lord.”

“The blue suits you,” his eyes held a glint of mischief she had not seen since before his father’s death. “Though, perhaps for our ride tomorrow, we might gravitate toward more conventional adornments?”

Before Charlotte could formulate a properly witty response, he had bowed and departed, leaving her standing in the parlor with her heart performing yet another series of impossible acrobatics.

“Well,” William said after a moment. “that went better than expected.”

Charlotte sank back onto the settee. “Did I just agree to courting Sebastian Whitmore?”

“You did.” William’s voice held careful neutrality. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” Charlotte said slowly, surprising herself with the truth of it. “But I cannot help but feel like I have just agreed to play a game whose rules I do not quite understand.”

“Then it is fortunate,” William observed, “that you have always been rather good at making up your own rules, sister.”

Through the window, Charlotte could see Sebastian entering his carriage, his movements as precise and graceful as ever. Tomorrow, she would ride beside him, not as William’s troublesome little sister, or a social obligation but as… what exactly?

She touched the paint smudge on her cheek, remembering the warmth in his eyes when he had mentioned it. Perhaps some questions were better left unanswered, at least for the moment.

After all, the next day’s ride promised to be interesting enough without her adding more complications to it.