Heart's Desire

Chapter Thirteen

Charity was drawn from a deep and dreamless slumber by the most heavenly feeling. Her scalp was naught but a tangle of electrifying tingles. It took a while to realize that someone's fingers were massaging away all the aches and pains from having her hair pinned up all day.

"Charity?" Lord Wrotham's voice, her numbed senses told her. It was the first time he'd said her name aloud, a small and conscious part of her mind comprehended.

"Mmm?" Charity murmured after it became apparent Lord Wrotham was waiting for a response.

A chuckle, low in the viscount's throat sounded. It reverberated in his chest. Charity felt it against her cheek. "Are you awake?"

"Mostly," Charity mumbled and snuggled closer. Her behavior was foreign to her, yet somehow it felt right. Besides, Lord Wrotham hadn't pushed her away, so it must not be too shocking. She was content to stay in this half-wakeful state for a while longer.

"I'd like to discuss something with you."

A sigh, "All right, but you don't need to stop what you're doing."

Another deep chuckle. "Bossy little thing, aren't you?"

"Mmhmm," Charity agreed.

"I want you and the twins to move to Halladale Manor."

That woke Charity fully. It was Lord Wrotham's principal residence. Though she'd never been there, she'd heard from a few of the original staff as to how grand and large it was. They had not been happy to have been delegated to Shepridge End.

Moving to Halladale Manor with her daughters would mean an actual reunion. It would be a sign that Charity embraced the change her agreement would bring. She'd be a wife in more than name only.

With a catch in her breath, Charity recognized she needed to stall. Before anything could happen, she'd need to tell Lord Wrotham the truth. That was something she wasn't ready to do just yet.

Coward, a voice called, but Charity ignored it, choosing to fight her rising panic instead.

"Where are my hairpins?" Straightening, Charity left Lord Wrotham's warm chest. Agitatedly, she swatted away his fingers.

"What has you so up-in-arms?" Julian demanded curiously.

"We are perfectly happy at Shepridge End," Charity huffed.

Scowling down at his wife's wriggling form, Julian put his hands on her shoulders. "Be still," he ordered. When she did as he bade, he continued, "I believe that may very well be the first out-right lie you've told me."

Posture stiffening, Charity looked away; for the hairpins, she told herself. Yet another lie, she silently chastised.

"I know you are unhappy here," Julian murmured. "I've seen and heard things since my arrival. You've not had an easy time and that, in large part, is my fault."

Gaze returning to those endless, Mediterranean orbs, Charity eyed Lord Wrotham. Blinking before she could drown in their depths, she looked away and thought about whether she should comment on his long-overdue admission of guilt. That he was willing to own up to his mistakes was refreshing. However, she didn't think he'd appreciate her agreeing with him whole-heartedly on the matter.

"Hairpins?" Charity felt deflection was her best course. When Lord Wortham pointed to the other side of the seat, near his hip, she ordered, "Give them to me," and held out her hand.

"I happen to like your hair down," Lord Wrotham replied stubbornly.

Staring at him in amazement, Charity tried to come up with some response. Lord Wrotham's comment was incomprehensible to her. Instead of returning the requested pins, he sat there, arms crossed, refusing to give them to her.