Regency: Innocents & Intrigues: Marrying Miss Monkton / Beauty in Breeches

‘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.’