Page 20 of Hearts at Home

12

C haris came down to an empty breakfast room. With luck, the sick headache that had taken Mother off to bed before Charis got home last night would leave her sleeping this morning and postpone the scold Charis expected until after Charis had eaten.

She had barely taken a sip of her first cup of tea when Eugenie and Matilda arrived.

“How are you this morning?” Matilda asked. The twins had been wonderful last night, asking no questions, ordering her a hot bath, helping her brush her hair.

“I am well,” she assured them. More than well. Eric had come to Bath. He had saved her from Lady Wayford’s villains. He had kissed her right on her own doorstep. He was coming to see her this morning.

“What happened to you?” Eugenie asked. “Milly says that John fetched a sore head defending you from an assailant, and that Mr. Parteger and his enormous dog rescued you.”

“That is what happened,” Charis said. “Poor John. Two men tried to make me go with them. Thank goodness Eric arrived in time!

“Eric!” Mother almost spat the name. She swept into the room and stood over Charis. “Do not speak to me of this ‘Eric.’ I daresay he arranged this so-called kidnapping just so he could play hero. I have heard of such things.”

“May I fix you a plate of food, Mother,” Eugenie asked.

“I cannot eat at a time like this,” Mother complained. “Charis is about to ruin our family. Come, Charis. You and I need to talk.”

She stalked out, and Charis stood to follow her but stopped as first Eugenie then Matilda gave her a brief hug.

“She will calm down eventually,” Eugenie consoled.

“Sooner rather than later, I predict,” Matilda added and giggled.

The situation might be funny to the twins, but Charis was not amused. Mama was standing by the parlour fireplace, her arms crossed, one foot tapping.

“You are betrothed to the Earl of Wayford,” she declared. “Your Uncle Benjamin has agreed, and so have I.”

“I have not agreed, Mother, and I will not agree.”

Grisham, the butler, appeared in the doorway, his expression saying that callers at this hour of the morning had abandoned all propriety, but that Grisham would nonetheless do his duty.

“The Earl of Wayford, Ma’am,” he announced.

“See?” Mother insisted, hissing the words in a low voice. “He is eager to meet you.” Her tone changed to the forced social cheer Charis hated. “My dear Wayford. How charming to finally meet you.”

Charis refused to look up. This was a nightmare. How could she possibly be betrothed to two men? She who had never had a single suitor?

How could she get out of this? Would Eric consent to an elopement? Or perhaps he had enough money for them to marry by special license? Would he lose his employment if he married the woman that the earl wanted?

Thinking furiously, she hardly noticed when Mother and the earl finished their conversation. Only when two beautifully polished shoes came into her field of vision did she realize that Mother had left the room and she was alone with... She looked up into familiar and beloved green eyes. “Eric? How did you get here?”

“Charis, I need to tell you...”

“Eric, they want me to marry the earl. I have said I won’t, but Mother would not listen. Will you help me to convince her?”

Eric scratched the side of his cheek. “Are you certain you don’t want to marry the earl,” he asked.

Charis was indignant. “How can you think I would? After we...” She blushed to remember. She was not ruined, Eric had assured her, and would not be because they would be married before he would show her the rest.

Eric’s tender smile showed his mind had travelled with hers. “It’s just that...”

“Can you imagine me as a countess?” Charis asked.

“Easily,” Eric assured her. “I have been imagining you as a countess for ages. Charis, can you just let me...”

The door flew open, and Matilda and Eugenie tumbled into the room, Phoebe just catching herself from falling on top of them.

“You— You—” Charis turned back to Eric, who was trying not to laugh. “They were listening at the keyhole, the little baggages. You girls apologize to...” She couldn’t call him Eric to her sisters.

Matilda did not wait, scrambling to her feet then curtseying. “I beg your pardon, Lord Wayford,” she murmured. Eugenie followed, and then Phoebe, each begging Lord Wayford’s pardon and receiving a polite bow and smile from Eric.

The pieces fell into place. Charis could barely wait until she had pushed her sisters out the door and shut it behind them. “You are Lord Wayford.”

“Yes. I was trying to tell you.”

“You are the wicked earl,” she accused.

“No, that was my eldest brother. He died, you see.”

Charis paused in her tirade, her ready sympathy rising. “I am sorry.”

Eric shrugged. “I barely knew him. And the few memories I have of him are unpleasant. He is the one who said I should not be called Eric, but Freak or Wreck, and my mother called me Wreck from that day on. The Beast of Beastwood Hall was another of his names for me.”

Charis winced but could not be diverted even by Eric’s past sufferings from Eric’s current crimes. “Why did you not tell me who you were?”

“I have been trying, Charis darling.”

“I mean before. When you first came home, or at any time these past weeks.” Was he playing some kind of game? But he had asked her to marry him. Yes, and sought permission from her guardian.

He was shifting from one foot to another, looking embarrassed. “I should have, I know. But I wanted... Charis, from the moment I became earl, ladies have been trying to marry me. None of them knew me, and few of them cared if they even liked me.”

“You thought I was like that?” Charis looked down at her hands to hide the tears that came unbidden.

“No!” Eric squatted before her, lifting her chin and kissing away the tears. “Never, my darling. Rather the opposite. I thought you might be the one woman in England who would reject me because I am an earl. I’m still afraid you might. You won’t will you?”

Charis was struggling to hold onto her indignation at Eric’s deceit, especially with his eyes so intent on hers. He was so close. If she leaned forward just a bit, she could have one of those heart-stopping kisses. But she did not want to be a countess, did she? Did she, if it meant she was Eric’s countess?

She frowned just as the door burst open again, this time propelled by Ugo, one hundred pounds of wet mountain shepherd dog, barking his delight at having found Eric—yes, and Charis as well.

In moments, the sisters had joined them. Mother, too, all of them screeching when Ugo stopped his frantic greetings to his master and Charis long enough to shake himself and spray the whole room with his burden of rain.

At last, Ugo overcame his excitement enough to listen to the wrath in Eric’s voice and slink behind Charis’s sofa, sliding underneath enough to rest a cold wet chin on her foot. “I am sorry, Mrs. Fishingham,” Eric told Mother. “He must have slipped his collar and followed me.”

Mother managed a weak smile. “He is a—a handsome beast, is he not?”

“He is a wicked creature who thinks charm will fish him out of well-deserved trouble,” Charis said firmly, fixing her beloved with a stern frown.

“Now Cas,” Mother started, her eyes wide with alarm.

“If he wants me to be his countess,” Charis continued, “he will need to realize that certain behaviours are not acceptable.”

“You should never marry expecting a man to change,” Eugenie commented with a sly grin.

“Or a woman, either, I suppose,” Matilda suggested.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about Charis. She is perfect just as she is,” Eric assured them.

“She reads a lot, you know,” Phoebe warned.

“I do, too,” Eric said.

Matilda nodded. “And she often doesn’t listen. I’ve known for weeks that Lord Wayford is the boy who used to live next door. You’ll have to repeat yourself.”

Eric smiled at Charis, his eyes crinkling. “I don’t mind repeating myself.”

Eugenie sighed. “The worst thing is she just goes away. You think she is somewhere, and in her head, she has wandered off somewhere else.”

Eric held out one hand toward Charis. “What do you say, my darling? Where do you wander to when you go somewhere else?”

He knew, of course. He had always been the one she had wandered to. The one whose absence these past years had left her hollow. The one who had returned and filled her with joy. And just like that, her doubts disappeared. She didn’t care a farthing more than she had a day ago for being Wayford’s countess. But it seemed the title went along with being Eric’s wife.

She sighed, forcing her face into mournful lines, but she also took Eric’s hand and spoke before the alarm in his eyes could grow. “I suppose my wandering days are over, Lord Wayford. Why should I wander when you are my home?”