Heart's Desire

Chapter Seven

Upon spying the change in Lord Wrotham's demeanor, Charity felt her stomach tighten. Ever since her father's fall from his horse, she didn't do well when faced with such sudden changes in temperament. They reminded her of the drastic transformation in Papa, how he was the last time she'd seen him.

As she was all but dragged into the library, Charity's spine stiffened. The lump in her stomach loosened, then caught fire. No longer was she that frightened little girl. Jerking her arm from Lord Wrotham's vice-like grip as soon as they were out of the hall where the servants could see, she whirled to face him.

Lord Wrotham disregarded Charity's display of temper. Presenting her with his back, he quietly shut the door. The soft click, coupled with his controlled behavior, was ominous. It felt like a warning of what was to come.

Charity ignored it, feeling as if she were about to explode. Invectives as to her rough handling rose and stuck in her throat. It was while she was trying to calm her breathing enough to speak that Lord Wrotham broke the silence.

"I would have thought my wife above laying with a married man." Lord Wrotham stopped a few feet away from where Charity stood. No doubt he felt his towering would intimidate her. He thought wrong.

"Oh?" Charity's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "You mean to tell me you've been chaste these past ten years, being a married man yourself?"

"I am not the one in the habit of having children born on the wrong side of the blanket." Charity watched Lord Wrotham's fist tighten as he ground the words out through his teeth. It was rewarding to see he wasn't as unaffected as he wished to appear.

"Ha!" Charity countered, emboldened by his display of emotion. "That you know of, I'm certain you meant to say."

"Do not presume to put words in my mouth," Lord Wrotham ground out through a stiff jaw.

"I would never be so presumptive, my lord," Charity sneered. Instantly, she regretted baiting the viscount as he took a menacing step closer.

Matching his forward motion with a backward one of her own, Charity held up a placating hand. "Lord Blakemoor has never been anything other than a friend to me. As is his wife. I'd never do anything so heinous and risk jeopardizing my relationship with them."

Lord Wrotham seemed to mull over Charity's words. "Explain to me then," he began stiltedly, "why your daughter calls him 'daddy'?" His cadence grew in momentum with his accusations. "You said yourself Lord Blakemoor was 'like family.' Just how close is he in relation to your daughters?"

"Phoebe also called my brother 'daddy,'" Charity hurriedly explained. "We did correct her and teach her to say 'uncle,' however. He and Ant are the closest men in her life." Telling this man the whole of the relationship Ant had with her daughters was out of the question. But perhaps she could give Lord Wrotham a reason as to why they were so close – a small bit of truth. "Lord Blakemore is their second cousin by marriage."

Charity held her breath to see if the viscount would accept her explanation. As she watched, his brows pinched in the middle. It was the only reaction he showed to her confession.

"So, you are telling me that Lady Blakemoor has a cousin who seduced you? I don't suppose you are willing to reveal his identity?"

Giving her head gave a single shake in the negative, Charity silently willed Lord Wrotham to drop the subject. She couldn't reveal that Millicent's cousin was female, nor that she was the one who'd born the viscount's children. Instead, she pled her previous point. "Ant is very devoted to his wife. Neither of us would betray her so."

A humorless laugh escaped Lord Wrotham. "Yet you thought nothing of betraying me?"

Taking an angry step toward Charity, Lord Wrotham stopped. His fist was still clenched tightly at his side. Not wishing to be so close to the seething tower of masculinity that was her husband, she created more distance between them. When her legs nearly overset an end table, she stopped.