Page 8 of An Evening to Remember (1777 Society #3)
Chapter
Eight
C hristopher needed to stop kissing Matilda, yet he could not tear his lips from her sweet mouth.
She kissed him with a passion that stole his breath and scattered his wits, leaving him bereft of reason. He doubted anything at this moment could separate him from her. She was intoxicating—so sweet, so perfectly molded to him that his entire body seemed to hum in her presence.
Her softness was a revelation, her pliant form pressing against him as though they were pieces of the same puzzle. She fit him like a glove, her curves aligning with his strength, her warmth seeping through their layers of clothing. She smelled of jasmine, delicate and tantalizing, a scent that seemed to wrap around him and tighten his resolve in the worst way.
Her hair, untamed by fashionable convention, was tied back with a simple ribbon. Loose curls escaped their bindings, framing her flushed cheeks, her face alight with the glow of desire. In this golden hour of the late afternoon, she was radiant—a vision of beauty he wanted desperately to keep.
And yet, he knew he must stop.
He pulled her closer, his body betraying his mind’s frantic cries for restraint. Every press of her lips against his sent his thoughts tumbling deeper into a haze of longing. He should halt this madness, but how could he when every part of him screamed to keep her close?
But the truth loomed, cold and unrelenting. He could not pursue her. He could not pursue anyone.
The weight of his past, of a foolish mistake that had followed him like a shadow, made that impossible. Here, at his family’s estate, Lady Delphine was a constant reminder of that mistake. Her presence was like a persistent chill in the air after a summer storm, clinging to him no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.
Not that he believed himself in love with Matilda. But at three and thirty, he certainly had a better understanding of what he wanted in a wife—a companion who could stand beside him, a mother to his future children.
Love…
A low, throaty moan escaped her lips as his tongue brushed hers, a sound that ignited a fire within him. His body responded immediately, his arousal undeniable, urgent, and damnably inconvenient.
Damn it all to hell. He needed to put an end to this madness.
With a sharp breath, he broke the kiss and stepped back. Regret clawed at him as soon as the distance grew between them. “You should not kiss me—or anyone—unless you mean to marry them.”
Her wide eyes stared up at him, sparkling with mischief and confusion. He should not chastise her, especially when he was as much a participant in these forbidden encounters as she. But desperation drove his words.
“You’re an excellent teacher, my lord.” Her eyes sparkled with defiance and amusement. “Think of it this way: when I do find the man I wish to marry, he’ll be well-pleased with my kisses.”
Her boldness left him momentarily stunned, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Matilda seemed to be a force of nature. Without waiting for his reply, she turned to her horse, leading it to a fallen tree. With an effortless grace that spoke of her independence, she used the trunk to climb into the saddle without assistance.
He mounted his horse as well, still grappling with the tumult of emotions her presence stirred in him. Her spirit, untamed and unyielding, was something he admired deeply. He prayed, not for the first time, that she would find a husband worthy of her—a man who would cherish her fire, not extinguish it.
The sound of approaching hooves broke his thoughts. Christopher glanced over his shoulder to see Lady Delphine cantering toward them, her posture flawless atop her bay mare.
Lady Delphine was undeniably beautiful. Her hair was the perfect chestnut shade that gleamed in the sunlight, her face framed by the soft curve of a fashionable bonnet. She had an elegance Society adored. But despite all her attributes, she stirred nothing in him. Not since their adolescent folly—when, during a ball, they had shared stolen champagne and a drunken kiss beneath a supper room table.
That childhood and childish foolish act had led to an even more foolish proposal—one born of youthful gallantry rather than genuine affection. She had accepted on the condition that they wait until they come of age and enter Society. Yet, despite the passage of years, she remained unmarried, as if the fanciful proposition was binding.
“Lord Charteris, Lady Matilda,” she called to gain their attention. “Out for a ride, I see. I do wish you’d extended the invitation. I should have loved to join you.”
“You’re most welcome to join us now, Lady Delphine.” Christopher forced a polite smile. “I hadn’t realized you were about. I did not see you at breakfast.”
Her lips curved into a smile that hinted at hope. “I had a headache this morning,” she explained before turning her attention to Matilda. “I bring a summons from the house, Lady Matilda. Lady Lacy requires your assistance with preparations for the assembly room ball this Saturday.”
Matilda’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, though she maintained her composure. “Oh, she does? That is strange. I spoke to her not an hour before riding out, and she mentioned nothing of it. But perhaps something urgent has arisen.” With a soft sigh, she turned her horse toward the house.
Christopher seized the opportunity. “Would you like me to escort you, Lady Matilda?”
“The house is within sight, my lord. Lady Matilda will be perfectly safe," Lady Delphine interjected smoothly. "Besides, I would dearly enjoy a full turn about the lake—if you’d escort me.”
Matilda hesitated, glancing between them before nodding. “As Lady Delphine says, I shall be well. Good afternoon to you both.” With that, Matilda nudged her horse into a canter, disappearing down the path back toward the estate.
Lady Delphine turned to him, her smile unnervingly calculated. “Now that we’re alone at last, Lord Charteris, I must say how much I’ve missed our time together. Why must you stay away for years in cold, dreary Scotland?” She pouted for effect, which did not work.
Christopher forced his voice to remain even. “Our Scottish estate is as important as our English one. With my father managing affairs here, it falls to me to oversee the tenants and servants there. It would be remiss of me as a gentleman to neglect them for the frivolities of town.”
“But if you spent more time in England, we might see each other more often,” she countered. "Is that not what you want?"
“Lady Delphine, we were children when we shared such closeness you speak of. We have both grown since then. Surely it is time to look to the future rather than dwell on the past.”
Her face flushed, but she held her ground. “Are you saying you no longer intend to honor the promise you made me all those years ago?”
Christopher sighed, the noose around his neck tightened. He would need to tread carefully before she flew into a fit of the vapors.
"We were children, Lady Delphine. Surely you do not still cling to the feelings of your youth. Doubtless, there is another who has caught your heart," Christopher said, anxiety coiling in his chest.
Her pretty features flushed a mottled pink, and her lip trembled as her composure wavered. She pulled out a delicate lace-trimmed handkerchief embroidered with her initials and dabbed at her eyes and nose.
"I feel the same as I always have.” She paused, gathering her composure. “I thought you were not the sort of man who would lead a woman astray with false feelings. Do you not want to marry me anymore, Lord Charteris? I have waited so long for you to broach the subject again, and I cannot wait any longer. I am seven and twenty—I’m almost too old to have children. Are you going to do the right thing by me since it was you who asked for my hand in the first place?"
Christopher stared at her, his thoughts a whirlwind. He had never anticipated this moment, though perhaps he should have. He struggled to reconcile her earnest expression with the stark reality that such a union would be disastrous for them both.
He did not love her. The truth settled like a stone in his gut, heavy and immutable. And to marry her out of obligation would only result in pain—for her, as much as for himself.
"Are you saying that you are holding me to my proposal—one I made at but sixteen years of age?" he asked, baffled by her resolve.
"I am, yes." She lifted her chin with an air of defiance. The trembling of her lip had ceased, replaced by a steely determination that made her look almost regal. "What say you, my lord?"
Christopher inhaled deeply, the warm summer air doing little to clear his mind. He needed to choose his words carefully, though no answer would save him from the web he had spun.
"I suppose, as a gentleman, you are leaving me with little choice but to agree, are you not?" His words sounding resigned, even to his own ears.
"That is true, my lord," she said, her lips curving into a small, victorious smile. "I am pleased to hear we have finally come to an agreement. Now, there is only one thing left for us to do."
Christopher inwardly cringed, tightening his grip on the reins. His horse shifted beneath him as though sensing his unease. "And what is that?"
"Tell our families, of course, of the happy news. We should start back directly. There is so much to plan and do, and we shall have such a merry time planning our wedding." She nudged her mount into a walk, her movements brisk with purpose. "And just think," she added, glancing over her shoulder at him gleefully, "I shall be able to return with you to Scotland. I've never been and shall love it as much as I love you."
Christopher’s stomach churned as he followed her, his horse's hooves crunching against the gravel path with a rhythmic finality. Each step toward the house felt like another turn of the noose tightening around his neck.
"Sounds like you have everything planned, but I think we must delay the announcement. Just for a short time. The news of our youthful folly will shock my parents, and I will require time to think of how to breach the subject with them." He watched her, hoping she would agree, so instead of doing the latter, he could figure out a way to get himself out of this mess.
She threw him a mischievous grin, her spirits buoyed by his capitulation. "Of course, my lord. All will be just as I hoped once your parents get over the initial shock." She paused. “I have no qualms in waiting. I’ve waited ten years already, what is another few weeks?”
He nodded, yet he could not force a smile. Not this time. “As you say.”