Regency: Innocents & Intrigues: Marrying Miss Monkton / Beauty in Breeches. Helen Dickson
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I have seen for myself.’
Charles’s gaze held hers; he knew he was being brutal, but if it was the only way he could get her to listen, then so be it. ‘Think about it, Maria? He has worked for the East India Company for years, enjoying his pleasures too much to be taken seriously by his superiors to be offered promotion. Instead, he was considered an embarrassment to the Company and asked to leave.’
‘You—mean he didn’t leave of his own volition?’
‘That is precisely what I am saying.’
‘Then there must have been some other reason.’
Charles uttered a curse beneath his breath at her stubborn refusal to consider, let alone believe, what he was saying to be true. ‘Consider this. Winston has no wealth of his own to speak of. When he called on your father at Gravely, it was just what he needed, an ill man with a fortune, with a daughter to inherit, who would drop that same fortune at the feet of the man she married. With his knowledge of India and your father’s thirst to hear all about the land he loved, a land he knew he would never set eyes on again, this was child’s play for him to win your father over.’
Maria was stricken. ‘No.’ Her voice cracked painfully. ‘I do not believe any of this—nor do I know why you should want to discredit him so.’
‘Because I know him, Maria. Everything went off as Winston had hoped, better than that since your father did not live long after your betrothal, leaving everything to you. Can you not see the cynical calculation of which you have been the object, and the cold-blooded way in which Winston set about playing on your father’s goodness and your innocence?’
‘My father was an excellent judge of character. He trusted Henry implicitly, otherwise he would never have agreed to the betrothal.’
‘He was an ill man who was desperate to settle his daughter’s future. Winston appeared at Gravely like manna from heaven. Your father was hoodwinked by Winston. If you go ahead and marry him, your precious Henry will not enjoy your fortune for long.’
‘Why, what are you saying?’
‘In no time at all he will have got rid of it. He is head over heels in debt and disgrace. Maria, listen to me. You will be in as much danger from Henry Winston as you were from the mob in France.’
‘No,’ she seethed. ‘I do not know how I shall feel when I meet Henry—I confess to feeling apprehensive—and more than a little afraid. Since my father consented to my marriage to Henry, then I feel I owe it to his memory to at least give Henry the benefit of the doubt. I do not know why you are saying these things, Charles, why you hate him so much, unless it’s because you are jealous of him for some reason and are doing your best to blacken his name to me.’
‘And why would I want to do that? What reason could I possibly have?’
‘Because—because you—you might want me for yourself.’
Elevating a dark brow, he looked at her speculatively, the hint of a smile curving his lips. ‘And have I given you reason to think that, Maria?’ he asked softly.
‘All the time—in France—and on—on the boat—something happened … but I don’t see … I don’t understand … Oh …’ Her cheeks flamed red. She was bewildered and totally out of her depth when it came to speaking of such intimate matters.
‘No—you don’t, do you?’ His gaze was fixed intently on her. ‘You don’t know and you don’t see—that’s one of the things which makes you so extraordinary. You’re so lovely, so innocent, somehow. Something did happen between us,’ he admitted, his voice softening. ‘We both felt it, but I am surprised that you should mention it. It shows your inexperience and innocence, Maria—and there is nothing to be ashamed of in that.’
Maria felt her cheeks grow hotter and she lowered her head to hide her embarrassment. That exchange of incredulous glances—incredulous on her part—had lasted no more than a few seconds but had seemed absolutely right and so amazingly natural, she could feel it even now, a smoothness of something sweet like honey running through her veins.
But that incredulous feeling also brought with it a sense of fear, fear of Charles, but why this should be she did not know. She found him altogether too disturbing, and she didn’t know how to deal with the strange, alien feelings he had evoked in her.
Straightening her slim shoulders, she lifted her chin and glared at him with defiance, trying to still the trembling of her body with a visible effort of will. She said, ‘My inexperience is because of the sheltered life I have led at Chateau Feroc—which is the way of things in my aunt’s world; no matter how disparaging you are about Henry, ultimately the decision as to whether I marry him or not is my decision.’
Charles’s face stiffened into a scornful mask of stone. ‘Don’t be a little fool, Maria. If you go ahead with this foolishness it will not be long before you discover the misery of living from hand to mouth with a man for whom you will no longer hold any commercial value. But, as you say, that is your affair.’
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