Page 25 of An Evening to Remember (1777 Society #3)

Chapter

Twenty-Five

C hristopher sat across from Charlotte the following morning, the warm light of the sun filtering through the breakfast room's lace curtains. The faint clink of silverware provided a comforting backdrop as they shared their morning meal.

"A missive, Lady Lacy."

"Oh, thank you." Charlotte severed the silence as she accepted a note from a servant. She broke the seal and scanned the note, a slight frown settling on her brow before she said, “Oh dear.”

“Is something amiss, sister?” Christopher asked, hoping the letter she was reading did not include dreadful news. There was enough melancholy in the house already without adding more.

He sipped his coffee, hoping it would banish the weariness of a sleepless night wrestling with his thoughts. Thoughts on how to break his betrothal. Thoughts on how he could win back Matilda's trust and affection.

Charlotte folded the note and placed it on the table with a sigh. “It’s from Lady Matilda. She’s stranded at the Crown and Stag Inn due to last night’s storm. The road is flooded, and she fears it may remain impassable for some days. She asks if we have any insight into how long such conditions might last.”

Christopher frowned and set down his cup. “London to Devon road? It’s been known to remain impassable after heavy rain for a week or more. She cannot stay at that inn alone for days. It’s unsafe for a woman of her means, and she only has her maid and coachman for safety.”

Charlotte’s lips pressed into a thin line as she took in his words. “Indeed. She mentions only her maid as company. An inn filled with men of questionable character is no place for a young lady of her standing. What should we do? Shall we advise her to remain there or return here?”

“There is no choice to make,” Christopher replied firmly. “I’ll take the carriage and fetch her myself. She must return to the D’Estel estate. Leaving her there is out of the question.”

Charlotte nodded in agreement. “Yes, you must fetch her, but Christopher…” She hesitated. “Are you certain this is wise? Your engagement?—”

“Is my affair to manage,” he interrupted, not wanting to be reminded of the fiasco he was in. “But right now Lady Matilda’s safety is paramount.”

Charlotte sighed but did not press further. After all, she knew his stubborn streak well.

Christopher stood, his determination rekindled, and rang for the servants to ready the carriage. Within the hour, he was on the road, his carriage wheels churning through the mud-slicked tracks as the countryside sped past.

As the inn came into view several hours later, Christopher’s pulse quickened. The sight of the modest, weather-beaten building filled him with unease. He strode into the yard and exchanged a few gold coins for the innkeeper’s cooperation before ascending the narrow, creaking staircase to Matilda’s room.

There was a brief rustle of movement when he knocked, and then the door opened. Matilda stood before him, her honeyed hair framing her face, her expression a mixture of surprise and something more profound—hope, perhaps?

“Lord Charteris?” she said, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

Christopher stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, taking in the modest but clean space. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of damp wood and smoke from the hearth. He turned toward her, noting the way the faint afternoon light illuminated her features.

“Charlotte received your missive.” Hell, she was pretty and by God he’d missed the sight of her. “I came at once. You cannot stay here, Matilda. It’s not safe.”

Matilda hesitated, her delicate fingers gripping the edge of the door as though she might retreat. “I have no desire to impose on your family, especially with your—” She faltered. “Your fiancée.”

Christopher’s jaw tightened. “That engagement is a farce, and I shall deal with it. But you must not stay here. This inn is no place for a duke’s daughter. Your safety is my only concern.”

“Is it?” she countered, bitterness edging her words. “Do you insist on rescuing me simply to avoid your family being held accountable should anything untoward occur?”

He stared at her, taken aback. “You believe I would be motivated solely by obligation?”

She folded her arms, an action that drew his gaze—however reluctantly—to the rise and fall of her chest. “Why else would you come, my lord?” she asked coolly. “There is no place for me in your life.”

“Matilda…” He took a step closer, the intimacy of the small room amplifying the tension between them. Hell, he wanted her. Even now, when she was loathe to see him, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her.

“I came because I care. Because I could not forgive myself if harm came to you.”

She scoffed, slamming the door closed and giving him her back as she started toward the fire. “Care? Do not mock me.”

“I am not mocking you.” His tone was earnest as he tried to make her believe him. “I care for you, Matilda. I love you. And I would rather face the scorn of all England than see you spend another moment here, alone and vulnerable.”

Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned to face him, her eyes brimming with tears. “You love me?” She shook her head in skepticism. “Yet you allowed yourself to become bound to another.”

“Because I am a fool,” he admitted, closing the distance between them. “A coward who feared what loving you might cost me. But I cannot deny it any longer. Every moment I am without you feels like a lifetime wasted.”

The space between them seemed to shrink until it was almost nonexistent. Matilda’s breath hitched as she gazed up at him, and he could see her resolve to hate him was crumbling.

“Christopher…”

“Come with me,” he pleaded. “Let me take you home. Let me prove that my love for you is more than words.”

She hesitated, her lips parting as though to argue, but whatever protest she might have made dissolved into silence. The air crackled with unspoken longing, the weight of their shared grief and unfulfilled desire pressing upon them like a tangible force.

At last, she nodded. “Very well.”

Christopher exhaled, relief flooding him. “Thank you,” he murmured, his hand brushing hers in a touch that lingered a moment too long.

“You should not touch me for I cannot trust myself.” Matilda whispered, though her words lacked conviction. She was glad he had come, that he was here, and that she wasn't so alone in the world.

Her body hungered for him, and even now, angry as she was at the situation in which they now found themselves, she knew that the man before her was the one she wished to marry.

The man she loved.

“I had no choice. I could not leave you here alone, not with the storm, not with the risk—” He stopped, raking a hand through his dark hair, his frustration palpable. “Matilda, do you not understand? I couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger. You were alone with only your maid and elderly driver.”

She shivered, having not thought of the danger she could be in should anyone untoward find out that she was here, practically alone. “I am perfectly safe,” she lied, knowing that she was probably far from being so. “You should return home to your betrothed.”

Christopher stepped closer, the space between them shrinking with each determined stride. He was so overbearing, tall, and seemed to suck all the air out of the room where they were standing. “There is no engagement,” he said firmly. “There never was. Not in any way that mattered. Please, Matilda, believe me.”

His vision blurred, and she swallowed hard, determined not to lose her composure. She tipped up her chin, needing to find the strength to finish this conversation with Christopher. Possibly one of the last she would ever have with him.

“Lady Delphine announced your engagement to everyone. She expects you to honor your word, as does your family. There is no getting out of the betrothal, my lord. No matter if you wish it otherwise.”

“We were children, Matilda.” He shook his head as if seeking the words to make her understand. “It was a promise made in youthful folly, and I should have corrected her notion years ago, but I thought she would marry. I thought she forgot about our silly promises, but I see now that she did not." He clasped her hands, his grip firm. "I'm in love with you. I want to marry you and no one else."

Matilda’s resolve faltered, her heart aching at the raw sincerity in his eyes. “I will not be your mistress, and if you're not free to marry, that is all that is open for me. I will not lose everything to be with you, as much as I may wish to. I could not do that to my family, friends, or myself."

"And I'm not asking you to be my mistress. I will not marry anyone unless it is you. I will fix my errors. I will make Lady Delphine see sense, and we will be together."

"And if she does not? If her family refuses to see that your youthful love was nothing more than a passing phase?"

“I will make them see, or I shall simply steal you away, and we will marry in Gretna. We're both of age. No one can stop us or make us annul the marriage." His fingers squeezed hers, and she reveled in the feel of his warm hands. "I love you. I will not allow anyone to make me give you up."

The words hung in the air, their weight pressing against the walls of her heart. Matilda stared up at him, her breath shallow as his confession settled over her and began to seem genuine.

“You love me, truly?” She wanted to believe his words but was scared his confession and promises were as hollow as her future felt but hours ago.

“Yes, I do.” He cupped her cheek. His touch was warm, his palm calloused yet gentle as his thumb brushed against her skin. “I love you, Lady Matilda Bligh. And I am done pretending that I do not.”

Matilda surged toward him, her hands clutching at his coat as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was a rush of fire and desperation, their pent-up emotions pouring forth in a wave neither could contain.

Christopher’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss. The fire's heat paled compared to the blaze between them, their bodies moving as if drawn by an unseen force.

Christopher scooped Matilda into his arms, his strength effortlessly lifting her as he carried her toward the bed. The warmth of his body seeped through the layers of her gown, igniting a thrill of anticipation that made her heart race. He set her down, his lips finding hers, his kisses both demanding and tender, as his fingers moved to the row of buttons lining her bodice.

With practiced ease, he unfastened her gown, his touch reverent as he peeled away the yards of fabric that cascaded to the floor in a whisper of silk and lace. Matilda’s breath hitched as she reached for his coat, pushing it from his shoulders and letting it fall with a muted thud. Her trembling fingers worked at the knot of his cravat, tossing it aside before tackling the buttons of his waistcoat. The storm of their desire left no room for hesitation, their hands moving with urgency as they stripped each other bare.

They tumbled onto the bed, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting him with an urgency that would not wait.

He thrust into her, and she gasped, the stinging pain removing any desire she had for a breath or two. Christopher paused and watched her, a small frown between his brows.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away and forgot that you are a maid."

She nodded and, after several calming breaths, wiggled a little beneath him. He bit his lip, a muscle working in his jaw and she wished she knew what he was thinking. Was he enjoying her? Did her adjusting to his size hurt him, or did it bring him pleasure?

She knew that in time, she, too, would enjoy this interlude. Her friends had told her the joys of the marriage bed after the initial coupling, which could be trying.

She shifted again, seeking him, and he kissed her, removing the last of her apprehensions. He drove into her, and this time, there was no pain, just delicious heat, fulfillment, and a sweet ache that grew with each thrust.

"Christopher…" She was delirious for him. After tonight, there would be no going back. She would not lose him to another. Christopher would be her husband and she did not care what scandal that created.

She could not lose him again.

He was a magnificent lover and seemed to play her body like a virtuoso of lovemaking. The pinnacle of release teased and taunted her with each joining of their bodies. She ached to come with him deep within her, to satisfy the need that ran wild in her blood.

He pulled out, and before she could ask him what he was about, he was kneeling between her legs, pressing her knees apart and enjoying the view.

His eyes burned with desire and determination. She shivered as he pressed sweet kisses to her aching, wet flesh. His tongue worked her until she did not know how to survive the onslaught of his wickedness.

"Yes…" she breathed, fisting his hair in her hands, attempting to remain tethered to this beautiful earth by any means possible. "Christopher, I'm going to…"

Lights flashed before her eyes and she climaxed with him licking and loving her most private place. She undulated against his mouth, a wanton as she drew out every last delectable moment of her release.

He came back over her, her body heightened to his touch. He kneaded her breast as he licked along her bottom lip. "You are so mouthwatering. I will never not want you."

Her skin prickled and she kissed him, reveling in the taste of her pleasure on his lips. He thrust into her, pumping relentlessly before he found his own release. His body tightened, the muscles of his back like stone, his breath ragged as he spilled into her.

"Matilda," he gasped.

She cupped his face and watched as he came, wanting to see the ecstasy that they both shared wash over his face. He was so handsome and dear to her that she would forever want him, too.

After several minutes of catching their breath, Christopher broke apart and lay beside her, their foreheads resting together as they clung to each other.

“Say it again,” Matilda whispered. "I want to hear those three fabulous words again."

“I love you,” he said without hesitation. A shiver slipped down her spine hearing his declaration. “I love you and will do whatever it takes to make you mine, to make you happy.”

Tears slid down her cheeks, but this time, they were tears of joy. “I love you too.” His lopsided smile at her response made her love him even more. “I have for so long, Christopher. I was so afraid I’d lost you.”

“Never!” He reached for her, cradling her face. “You’ll never lose me, Matilda. I’ll fight for you, for us. Whatever it takes.”

He kissed her again, slower this time, the urgency giving way to something deeper. His hands roamed over her back, his touch igniting every nerve as he pulled her closer.

The fire crackled in the hearth, the storm outside forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Matilda reached up, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “And you are everything I never dared to hope for.”

They kissed again, their movements slow and deliberate as they explored the depths of their connection. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in the quiet cocoon of their love.

As the night wore on, they spoke in whispers, their words filled with promises of a brighter future. They talked of life together, the joy they would find in each other’s arms, and the strength they would draw from their love.

“I will never let you go,” Christopher vowed. "Tomorrow, we shall return to the ducal estate, and I will right the wrong I caused all those years ago."

“And I will stand by you, no matter what." Matilda clasped his hand, needing to reassure him, and mayhap, herself a little too.