Charming Artemis by Sarah M. Eden
Chapter Six
The past week had been miserable. Charlie would have argued further about the ill-advised marriage he was being forced into, but he knew there was no other solution. If he and Artemis did not move forward with this plan, she would be ruined, and he would be labeled a rake for the rest of his life. They would both forever be tainted by the scandal, and their families would suffer for it. He’d rearranged the equation in every conceivable way, hoping to reach a different answer. There wasn’t one.
The only bright spot in all of London was the nursery at Lampton House, where a niece and nephew of his spent their days. He was uncle to ten nieces and nephews now. It was one of his favorite things about being part of the Jonquil family.
He pushed open the door to the nursery three days before his marriage of inconvenience was scheduled to be made official and met the eye of the nursemaid. She nodded her acceptance of his proposed intrusion, so he slipped inside. The little ones were always happy to see him. They always wanted him there. They needed him when no one else seemed to.
Little Kendrick, who was known to all the world as Lord Jonquil, and Julia, who was more properly referred to as Lady Julia, were crawling about the floor of the nursery, exploring their domain. Both the twins could pull themselves to a stand if furniture was nearby, but neither could walk yet. Charlie suspected they would be doing so quite soon.
His nephew spotted him first. With a baby babble Charlie chose to interpret as his name, the little ragamuffin crawled at impressive speed toward him. Julia, true to character, stopped where she was, twisted to a seated position, and watched him quietly. The two shared a birthday and a surname but were otherwise as unalike as could be.
Charlie scooped up Kendrick and crossed to Julia. He sat next to her, giving her a moment to decide if she wanted to be held or not. She didn’t always. He plopped Kendrick on his cross-legged lap.
The nursemaid moved into the adjoining bedchamber. Perhaps he was offering her a bit of a respite, a chance for a moment’s silence and peace. Someone ought to be benefited by his presence.
“How are the two of you?” he asked the babies.
Kendrick set immediately to babbling, something he did almost any time someone spoke to him. Julia, as always, sat silently watching. She often wore a look that reminded Charlie of Sorrel’s brother—another of Julia’s uncles and one of Charlie’s good friends—who was also a studier of people, sorting them out in quiet contemplation.
“Are you puzzling out that I’m a bit sad, Julia? Can you sense that in me?”
One-year-olds were not precisely known for their conversational abilities. Neither of these two offered him any verbal escape from his heavy thoughts. But they were good for his heart.
Kendrick stretched for a chunkily carved horse almost within reach. Charlie leaned him in that direction enough to allow him to fetch his toy. A slightly older child would likely have made the horse run along the floor or mimic its whinnies. Kendrick promptly popped its head in his mouth.
Charlie looked over at Julia. “I suspect you are the clever one in this duo.”
A sweet, heart-piercing smile pulled at her tiny mouth, revealing four baby teeth and an adorable set of dimples. She leaned forward and set her head on his leg, half sitting, half lying. Charlie shifted her closer so she could lean against him with greater comfort.
“I won’t get to see you so often after a few more days,” he said. “I’ll be living too far away. I’d make you promise not to forget all about me, but babies forget things so quickly. I’ll be a stranger to you before too long.”
Lud, he was growing emotional over a conversation with two tiny children who couldn’t understand a word he was saying. So much for the logical mind of a mathematician.
“I might have guessed I’d find you in the nursery. You’ve a soft spot for babies.”
Toss.
“Nieces and nephews are the best sort of distraction,” Charlie said without looking over at his friend. “I recommend you obtain a few.”
He laughed, his footsteps echoing as he crossed the nursery. “I’ll let my sister know. She’s nearly eleven. Seems she’s dragging her feet a bit.”
“Rosamond can’t get married yet. I fully intend to match her up with my nephew Edmund in a few years’ time. He’s her same age.”
Toss sat on the floor across from him, sending Julia a tender and adoring look. She had such an angelic air about her. The girl could melt even the coldest of hearts, and Toss’s was far from arctic.
“You’ve enough nieces and nephews to matchmake for the entire ton,” Toss said.
Charlie brushed his fingers lightly over Julia’s soft, brown hair. “Perhaps that is what I ought to do with myself now that I’ve lost my career of choice.”
“It’s a blasted stupid rule. A man doesn’t stop being intelligent and articulate or an expert in his field of study simply because he’s married. Indeed, the influence of a wife might make him a better don.”
While Charlie wholeheartedly agreed, that agreement accomplished nothing. “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I don’t expect it to change.”
Kendrick offered Charlie his slobber-covered horse, then without allowing even a moment’s time for the toy to change possession, the boy plopped the head in his mouth once more.
“And you still intend to withdraw from Cambridge?” Toss pressed.
Charlie nodded. “The entire purpose of my studies was to become a don. I can’t do that now.”
“Blasted shame, Jonquil.” Toss shook his head. “Blasted shame.”
“It certainly is. I would have enjoyed spending more time pursuing higher levels of mathematics.”
“No, I meant it’s a shame you won’t be there to assist me in tossing Peter Duncan’s small clothes into the River Cam.”
A laugh snorted from him. “Lud, I’m going to miss our larks. I’m not at all suited to being a sober, well-behaved . . . miserably married man.”
Julia was watching him, studying him. How was it an infant could be so observant?
“I still can hardly believe you’re marrying Miss Shamcaster.”
Charlie had called her that when expressing his frustrations to his closest friends. From the first time he’d met her, her counterfeit personality and insincerity had bothered him deeply. Of all the people he could have been forced to marry, she was perhaps the worst option. There could be no real marriage with someone who didn’t know the meaning of the word.
“Mr. Jonquil, if you’ll pardon me.” A maid stood in the nursery doorway. “Your family’s arrived, sir. Thought you’d care to know.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Those of his family who were able to do so had agreed to come up to London for his wedding. They likely weren’t any happier about it than he was. This would not be a joyous reunion.
He looked to Toss. “Shall we bring the babies with us? They’ll provide a nice distraction.”
“I am in favor of wielding adorableness as a weapon.” Toss reached his hands out to Julia but didn’t force her to accept his offer. Kendrick negated the idea anyway. He crawled into Toss’s outstretched arms, apparently assuming the offer had been made to him.
Charlie held Julia, and the two of them, with their tiny bundles, made their way from the nursery to the drawing room, where the sound of Jonquil voices gave away the location of the new arrivals.
Three of his brothers—Layton, Corbin, and Harold—had arrived. Harold was a vicar. Charlie hoped he would be permitted to perform the ceremony. That might make the experience a little less miserable.
“We found a couple of sneak thieves,” Toss announced. “Anyone care to claim these two ne’er-do-wells?”
That brought the room’s attention to them. Good man that he was, Toss had jumped through the greetings and straight to the distraction. The family obliged. Friendly taunting directed at Philip, apologies to Sorrel, and a bit of a light-hearted tussle over who would be permitted to hold the babies, occupied them all.
Charlie was divested of his adorable bundle. He breathed a sigh of relief. There would be no lectures or drawn-out discussions of how pathetic his situation was. Not yet, at least.
His mother emerged from among them. She wore black, as she had ceaselessly the past thirteen years. And her silver pendant with the light-blue stone that Charlie didn’t think he’d ever seen her without gleamed in the light spilling from the window. The familiar sight of her didn’t bring the sense of relief he needed.
He held his breath as she crossed to him. She did not wear a look of pity or scolding but, instead, one of loving concern that never failed to bring out in him the lonely little boy who still desperately needed his mother. His schoolmates had teased him mercilessly over that for years and years. He’d learned over time to hide how homesick he’d been and how often he’d cried at night, wishing he had his parents nearby. But no amount of tears could have brought them there to comfort him. Mater had been at Lampton Park. And Father had died long before Charlie had begun his years at school.
Without a word, Mater wrapped her arms around him and held him like she had when he was tiny. He held her in return, fighting for his composure.
“I’ve landed myself in yet another mess,” he whispered. “And I don’t think it can be made right.”
“Don’t lose hope, my boy. We’ll find a means of moving forward.” She kept an arm around him and walked at his side out of the drawing room and all the way to the bookroom. They sat side by side on a sofa. Having Mater with him had always eased his tension and fears, but it didn’t this time. His current troubles were too big even for her to fix.
He breathed and rolled his shoulders. “I know this has been Philip’s domain for more than a decade, but this room always makes me think of Father.”
“I feel the same,” Mater said. “Philip has instituted very few changes in this space. Perhaps it reminds him of your father also.”
“I wish Father were here.” Charlie leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I always wish that, but right now . . . ” He swallowed.
Mater rubbed his back in long, slow circles. She used to do that when he was tiny and overwhelmed by emotions he’d been too young to sort through. “I cannot guarantee to know precisely what your father would tell you in this situation, but I can tell you a little of his experiences in this area.”
Charlie closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.
“Our parents arranged, agreed upon, and announced our betrothal without our input, approval, or knowledge. We started on a very similar footing to what you are anticipating.”
It was not the same though. “You two didn’t choose each other, but you also didn’t despise each other. That is not an insignificant difference.”
“I know you and Miss Lancaster do not get along and do not particularly like each other, but I think if you ponder it honestly, you will have to admit you don’t actually despise her.”
He wanted to insist he did, wanted to list all the reasons he was justified in utterly despising her. This latest debacle only added to the feeling. No one could possibly blame him for it. And yet, despise did feel like too harsh a word.
Another breath didn’t ease any of his tension.
“I will not discount how distressing your situation is at the moment,” Mater said. “And though you might not be ready to admit it, I am certain you are a little afraid. But take comfort from one who faced that same worry: there is hope, my sweet Charlie. Do not give up. There is hope.”
He wanted to believe it. “What if in the end, we simply dislike each other more? What if everything proves even worse than I fear it will?”
“But, darling, what if it doesn’t?”
He straightened his posture a little and looked over at her. “You’ll still love me either way?”
Mater put her arms around him and leaned against him. “I have loved you all your life, my boy. And I will love you always. No matter what.”
Her love had been the sure foundation in his life for so long. When he’d struggled to find his place in the world and in his family, she had loved him. When he’d gotten himself into one bit of unintentional mischief after another, she had loved him. When his memories of his father had dimmed with the passing of years, leaving that gentleman as little more than a vague idea in the recesses of his childhood, when he’d found himself wondering if his father had loved him as much as his brothers were sure he had loved them, Mater’s love had given him reassurance.
When he had needed her most, she had not neglected him. He knew she would not do so now.
“I’m struggling not to feel defeated, Mater.”
“You mustn’t give up before you’ve even begun,” she said. “Promise me you will try.”
It was a request he did not take lightly. He knew he had been a disappointment in many ways, but he had never broken his word to his mother. He didn’t mean to do so now. “I will do my best,” he promised her. “I only hope it will be enough.”
