A/N: Once again a heartfelt thank you to all of you for reading and reviewing. I am so happy this story has managed to draw you in and hope the continuation will not disappoint. I expect there will be approximately three chapters more after this one and even if there is a bit of angst I am not Andrew Davies, so I do not intend to end on that note.

Chapter 9: This burning fire inside

When he set foot in the house at Bedford Place it was like he let go of a breath he had not known he was holding. During the visit to Willingden he had rarely had a moment to himself and even if it had been lovely to spend that much time with Charlotte, it had also been exhausting to guard his own his behaviour at all times. He had been forced to shift between showing affection and friendly indifference. In the company of her family he had for the first time allowed his true emotions to shine through but had to let Charlotte think that was pretence. Then, alone in their bed chamber he withdrew and acted like he had no feelings for her, which made him feel like he was about to implode.

To make their love story believable to the Heywoods, Sidney let his guard down and showed the affections which actually felt very natural to him by now, but he had not been prepared for how his emotions galloped when he for a while left them unrestrained. He had known he felt something for her, but the days in Willingden had made him understand it truly was love. Holding back again as soon as they were alone in their room was so much harder than he had imagined, like he had opened Pandora's box and barely could put the lid back on.

When she looked at him with doe eyed adoration his feelings were fuelled even if he knew it was feigned for her part. When she affectionately put her hand on his arm the touch seemed to almost burn through his clothes, through his skin and travel throughout his body, making him want to pull her close to him, bring her to their room and undress her, kiss her all over. At night, he wanted her to lie under him writhing with pleasure instead of primly asleep beside him. This heat inside, his own intensifying want, scared him because he knew it would make her terrified if she knew.

He had not known if he should laugh or cry that first evening, when he found her with the nose tip barely visible under the quilt. Ravishingly beautiful with her dark curls spread over the pillow, still fearing advances of intimate nature almost as much as the first night they met. Her feelings were unchanged in that regard. His feelings on the other hand were very different. He still wanted to protect her, but he also wanted her to want him and beyond that he wanted her to feel happiness with him. He had never cared so deeply for anyone.

As she certainly did not desire him, he would sadly have to make do with keeping her safe and trying to make her happy. Reluctantly he turned his back to the beauty beside him and made his breath slow down so she would think he was asleep, but for long stared into the darkness with heart pounding hard, very aware of her sleeping form next to him.

Under the current circumstances it was a relief to be back home and get some distance to her. He was convinced it would be possible to repress the unwelcome feelings now when they would not act like lovers or sleep in the same room anymore. He missed her that night though and the nights that followed. Lying in his bed alone, he finally realised that the time in Willingden had made his feelings cross a line and that there might be no turning back. He wanted her there with him and he wanted to hold her. The fact that he could not was slowly but surely eating away at him.

He soon understood that his resolve to make her happy despite that he could not have her, might be difficult to combine with staying sane. Spending time with her, talking and laughing with her, made him crave more. A few days after their return he therefore started to distance himself from her almost by instinct, to protect himself and her. He spent the days working and the evenings much as he had before he met her, drinking and gambling with friends, occasionally participating in illegal boxing, a residual habit from his time in Antigua. It did not make him happier. He was done with his bachelor ways but sadly unable to fully be with his wife. He found that every night away from home he missed her painfully and wondered what she was doing, if she felt alone having dinner by that big table alone or if it was a relief to her that he was gone. Probably the latter, he thought bitterly.

However, she confirmed that this was not the case when they had breakfast one morning. Almost two weeks had passed since they last had breakfast together, as he lately had made sure to leave the house before she woke up, but this morning she had been sitting by the table already when he descended the stairs. He was not sure what had prompted her early rise but noticed that she had dark circles under her eyes, something which made him quite concerned. He felt as drained as she looked after another restless night dreaming of her. He wanted to close his arms around her and ask her if she was alright but was afraid of the potential emotional chain reaction is might cause and simply acknowledged her presence with a nod before he sat down and served himself. The tension was palpable.

"Do you regret marrying me?"

She broke the silence which previously had been interrupted only by the sound of tea cups touching saucers.

Startled he looked up from the newspaper he was hiding behind, aiming to avoid conversation. Her brown eyes were fixed on him and he hoped she could not see what went through his mind.

No, he did not regret it. He just wished it was very different.

"Why would you ask?"

She took a deep breath as if bracing herself.

"Maybe I am imagining but it feels like you have been avoiding me since we returned to London. I see less of you now than before we went to Willingden. I thought it went so well there, and before, I thought perhaps we were becoming… friends and now I don't know anymore. I wondered if you were regretting that you went through with this marriage after meeting my family? Did you find them disappointing? I know they may not be as fashionable as your social circle, but they are good people. "

There was genuine sadness in her voice. He put down the newspaper, folding it carefully to buy himself some time. What should he say that neither exposed him, nor made her think he was wilfully avoiding her? The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

"I don't regret it, and especially not after meeting your wonderful family, but I also see it for what it is; an arrangement to get you away from the brothel and keep your reputation intact. Nothing more, nothing less. I have my business and social life to tend to and I assumed you might appreciate to see less of me."

"Oh."

She looked down on her plate and chewed her bottom lip. He felt the urge to kiss her, just another confirmation that he should spend as little time alone with her as possible.

"Is it not so?"

For a moment there was a flutter of hope inside his chest.

"It's only that, my days are so tedious. I don't have any social life here besides you. I understand if you don't have time to be with me, but I don't know anyone else in London. I don't want to whine or seem ungrateful, but you have seen where I come from and I hate being idle and useless. Perhaps I could be of service to you, help you with your business somehow?"

She met his eyes again, looking so hopeful that it made his stomach twist. Her question and eagerness to help made him smile, even if it saddened him that it was company in general she was missing, rather than his particular presence. He would have enjoyed involving her as a partner in his affairs, to get her advice and support, but that would mean spending more time with her and he should not, no matter how tempting. It would only end badly.

"I'm sure you could, I know you are very clever, but people would talk if I had my wife working for me", he dismissed the idea. "I do see your point however and admit I have been remiss in introducing you in my social circle. If I try to improve that, will it make you happier?"

"It would, thank you. I thought perhaps you did not wish to introduce me, and I didn't want to impose, but maybe I can make some new friends."

She gave him a weak smile and he had the nagging feeling there was something else she wanted from him, but since she did not seem inclined to spell it out, he let it be.

They continued the meal in silence and went their separate ways afterwards. He missed their companionable conversations and would have loved to join her looking at maps or doing anything else together but knew if it was for the better if he did not.

She had been right assuming that he wilfully had postponed introducing her to his friends but mistaken in regard to the reason. Even if nothing would have made him prouder than showing her off as his wife, it would mean that they once again had to pretend to be happily married and that was a dangerous game. At least for him. To make her feel less lonely he re-considered this approach. Something had to be done so she would not be quite so miserable and spending time together with others was a better option than spending more time with her alone. In the weeks that followed he stayed good to his word and introduced her to his closest friend Lord Babington, his fiancée Esther Denham and some other acquaintances who all welcomed her among them after recuperating from the shocking news that the permanent bachelor Sidney Parker had eloped and married. He knew that there were speculations about the back-story but did not care as long as the truth remained concealed and Charlotte's reputation was untarnished. Only Babington knew the true nature of things and would not tell anyone.

He soon realised that he had been wrong assuming it was safer spending time with her in others' company, at least when it came to protecting his own heart and prevent his feelings from deepening.. Seeing her interact with those he counted as his friends, only made him admire her more. Initially she was a bit insecure in the new setting, but soon bloomed and participated in conversations with natural charm and wit. He often caught himself staring at her, listening to what she said, instead of partaking in the conversation himself. Mesmerised he saw her win his friends' approval, one after another.

Babington was the kind of jolly man who liked almost everyone and eagerly welcomed Charlotte, curious to finally get to know Sidney's elusive bride.

"It is a fine woman you have married, my friend", he said during a dinner party he had invited them to. The meal was finished, and the group had moved on to the drawing room.

"It is."

Part of him wanted to tell Babington to shut up, part of him wanted to proudly boast how amazing his wife was, so he ended up saying almost nothing.

"And how are you getting on, living your separate lives under the same roof? Is it as smooth as you thought it would be?"

"Not quite", he answered through gritted teeth.

Babington raised his eyebrows at the confession.

"So?"

"So what?"

"What is not to your liking."

"I don't know... She is always there. It gets to me."

Babington watched him searchingly.

"Are you still only married to the name?"

Sidney looked at her across the room where she sat together with Esther. Esther was a famed high-society beauty, but nothing compared to Charlotte in his opinion.

"Yes."

"And why is that?"

"Because that is the way we both want it."

"Is it? Or is that the way you think she wants it?"

"I know it is!" he snapped.

"But not the way you want it anymore… Am I right? Is that what is ailing you?"

"Babbers, please, just leave it be."

Taking notice of the warning in his voice, Babington had refrained from saying anything further, but Sidney knew he had not convinced him. He could only hope that Charlotte was less perceptive than his friend. It pained him how accurate Babington's observation was. This was not how he wanted things to be, he wanted so much more. Confessing it would make it more real though, so he held his tongue even in front of his best friend.

"As you wish, but it seems to me you made a fortunate match. Don't waste it, that is my humble advice."

He patted Sidney's shoulder and left him to nurse his drink.

More surprising than Charlotte winning Babington's immediate approval was that Esther liked her too. Esther Denham was a graceful but reserved lady, who usually did not warm to people instantly, but she could not help being charmed by Sidney's country bride. She was naïve and sweet in a refreshing way, yet intelligent, opinionated and humorous and even the normally blasé Esther found her quite irresistible and declared they would surely be good friends. Babington had not revealed the true nature of the marriage to her and she was instantly struck by the almost tangible tension between the Parkers. She could easily imagine how passionate they must be when they were alone, and it made her long for her own wedding night to come soon. Like everyone else Esther had thought Sidney Parker a lost cause and Charlotte must truly be a remarkable girl to have penetrated the indifferent facade he always had kept up towards all other ladies. She had many high-born friends who would have allowed themselves to stoop to marrying a self-made man and entrepreneur if that man was indeed Sidney Parker, but he had brushed them off one after one, politely but efficiently. Charlotte had succeeded where all others had failed and hence she triggered Esther's curiosity already before they met. Once they got acquainted, Esther found her absolutely charming and immediately took it upon her to introduce Charlotte to all her friends. Sidney felt relieved knowing his wife would not need to be alone anymore and hoped this would make her happier.

Babington and Esther were only two of many that soon congratulated Sidney for having married such a wonderful woman. Even the normally cynical Crowe told him that he could see a certain appeal in her, that she seemed to have spunk. Sidney found that for each new person who told him what a fortunate match he seemed to have made, the well wishes made him feel a bit more choked. For every kind comment, his doubts increased that he would be able to keep the charade up for much longer. What was he supposed to do?

"Esther told me we are invited to a ball together with them next Saturday. Is it so?"

Charlotte interrupted his thoughts during the carriage ride home from the dinner party.

"Err yes, that is true."

He realised she was waiting for him to say something more.

"So yes, Babbers, Esther and a few others with whom you are acquainted with will be there. Would you like to go?"

"Would you like to bring me? I thought as you had not mentioned it, perhaps you didn't want…" she interrupted herself.

"What did I not want?"

"To introduce me on such on occasion where so many of the beau monde will be gathered?"

"I'm sorry you would think that. That is far from the truth. I…"

Truth was, he was terrified to dance with her, to hold her in his arms for a while. That was the only reason he had not told her of the ball.

"I thought I might have to go away a few days for business so I wouldn't be in town for the ball, but in the end I don't need to. If you want to attend, it would be my pleasure to bring you."

"Are you sure? You would have to introduce me as your wife to more people than you have up to now. Are you willing to do that?"

"Of course", he answered casually. "You are a gentleman's daughter and you are beautiful and well-versed. Why would I not want to introduce you?"

"Everyone will know you are married."

"Everyone who matters to me already knows. You have met my closest friends here in London. I have written my family in Sanditon to tell them."

"Have you?"

"Yes. My marriage to you is nothing I am ashamed of and I know they will be thrilled to meet you one day."

He did not doubt they would be, he was only dreading playing this charade in front of them.

"If you want to go, let us go."

"Thank you."

Spontaneously she touched his knee in a gesture of gratitude and the jolt it sent through him made him flinch. Embarrassed she quickly retracted her hand and he immediately missed the touch.

-o-

From the moment she came down the stairs, he knew this was an awful mistake. She was always beautiful, but this evening she was so stunning that his heart ached from knowing she was not his for real. She wore one of her evening gowns, a creation in golden silk and chiffon which enhanced her own warm colours. It emphasized how delicate her figure was, but the décolletage also revealed the full and beautiful shape of her breasts in the most flattering way. How he wanted her in this moment. He wanted to lift her in his arms and carry her up those stairs to his bed and do ungodly things to her, things to make her scream his name. He diverted his gaze so she would not see what was on his mind.

"Will it not do?" she asked insecurely when he said nothing, and he had to pull himself together and look at her again, smiling.

"It will do very well."

If she only knew.

His desperation grew as the evening went on. He could see the admiring looks other men gave her. No wonder because she was dazzling. She smiled kindly and made conversation without being flirtatious, but still he was bothered by emerging thoughts of what it would be like if she one day fell in love with someone else. He was sure she would never do anything to shame him, but it would be hard enough anyway. She was his wife and gave him no reason to be jealous, still angst took hold of him merely from imagining what it would be like to see her look at someone with loving eyes and know that he was the one standing in her way to marry for love.

He had not intended to dance with her, had thought he somehow would get away with not dancing, but Babbers began joking that he must for sure be the first one to introduce his wife to the amusements of a London dance floor and so there was no escape.

"Do you wish to dance?" he asked nervously, both hoping and not hoping she would say no.

"Yes."

Her answer was so soft, like she was saying yes to something else and the way she looked up on him when her gloved hand slid into his made him tremble inside. He knew he was only supposed to support her hand, not really wrap it in his like he did. He knew he was supposed to hold her at some distance but closed the gap between their bodies. He was not sure he did all steps like he should even if he normally was a skilled dancer, and he could not bear to spin her far away because he wanted to keep her close to him. Strangely, her body was like clay in his hands, following his silent directions, adapting to the slightest pressure, moulding itself after him like they were one. If their compatibility when dancing was any indication of what it would be like to make love to her... He did not even dare to finish the thought.

He never wanted to let go. Holding her like this in his arms, he felt like he was going to combust from the strong emotions inside him.

When the music stopped and the dance was over, a few long seconds passed when neither of them moved away. He was unable to and she was probably too courteous to break away before her husband did. Everything around them had stilled and disappeared from his field of vision. He saw only her, flushed from the dance and looking at up him with her big dark eyes, her chest heaving just like his own. The only sound he heard was his blood gushing in his ears, his heart beating hard, his breaths, her breaths. He wanted her madly. She was the one and only he wanted. He wanted everything else to disappear so he could let his lips crash to hers.

Then he remembered how things really were and what an absolute fool he was. It would not matter if everything else disappeared, because she did not want him like that, so it would never happen even if they were alone. Abruptly he let go of her and stepped away. He noticed that she seemed confused, which was natural as he for a while had allowed himself to be absorbed by her and danced too intimately, only to then act so brusquely when he realised his mistake. He felt anger directed towards himself rise inside. What was she supposed to think? He could not keep doing this to her or to himself. He had to get away from her. Now.

Desperately he let his gaze sweep around the room and unexpectedly noticed someone who might help him escape this situation.

"Excuse me Charlotte, I see an old acquaintance over there. You go find Esther and Babington."

With a curt bow, he turned his back to her. He knew well enough that a normal polite husband would have brought his wife, not left her alone on the dance floor to find someone else's company but he had to get away from her in this instant, or he could not be held responsible for his actions anymore. As he moved over the floor words of reality rang in his ears and fuelled his desperation; he loved his wife, he wanted his wife, but she did not love or want him in return. All she felt was gratitude and it was far from enough, but he could not make her feel anything else.

He stopped in front of the woman in a striking burgundy gown who had caught his attention from a distance. In any other situation the sight of her might have been a shock, but he was so tuned in on his feelings for Charlotte that every other sensation felt like a Mrs. Eliza Campion, the woman he once had been engaged to but who had jilted him and made him take his escape as far away as to the West Indies. Recently he had heard rumours that she was widowed and had returned to London. He had not expected to meet her here.

He would likely not have cared much even before he met Charlotte and now he found that the sight of her left him completely indifferent, but he had to get away from Charlotte and distract his mind by any means possible. Eliza could perhaps offer such distraction for a while and so he escaped to her instead of from her. He threw a glance back at Charlotte and saw her remain almost frozen on the same spot on the dance floor, watching him with questioning, reproachful eyes. His heart wrenched when she gave him that look, but he did not sign for her to join him. He needed the distance now, had to cool down, so he directed his attentions to the woman in front of him.

Ten years had passed, and Eliza was now a mature woman sooner than a girl, but still very beautiful with her sapphire blue eyes, pale skin and blonde hair. Yet, there was nothing about her that thrilled him when she smiled invitingly at him, saying his name to let him know she recognized him too. He greeted her politely and pretended to be enthusiastic about the encounter, but inside him there was no flutter, neither excitement nor anger. He simply did not care anymore about what she once had done to him or who she was now. She only served the purpose to let him distance himself from Charlotte for a while. He listened with half an ear to what she said and managed his part of the conversation but was distracted thinking of other things. He thought of how he had transformed since he last met her. He had changed gradually during his years in Antigua, growing up to be a man not a boy, hardened himself, overcome her but not trusted or cared for any other women for so long. Then he had changed anew upon meeting Charlotte and falling in love with her. For the first time he had allowed himself to open up and be vulnerable again, but nothing would come of it this time either.

No, there was hardly anything left of the young man Eliza Campion once had known. As for her, she was so different to Charlotte, he could see now that she had been already then. Prettiest of everyone but not much else to recommend her as a life-long partner in terms of intelligence, humour or kindness. Perhaps she had been the wiser of the two of them, breaking off the engagement because it was clear to him now they never had been suited to marry. Not like him and Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte. Charlotte.

It was like he heard her name resound inside with every heartbeat. How could he be so consumed by her? He felt like his unrequited love and want were a growing beast which he soon would be unable to contain inside himself.

"Perhaps you have heard that I am a widow now", Eliza called on his attention.

"Err, yes, I think I heard that. My condolences."

She smirked.

"I dare say I can bear the deprivation. Mr. Campion and I did not spend much time together. I had my interests and he had his own, which I very much encouraged. Sometimes days passed without us seeing each other and it made my life as his wife enjoyable. However, I find that being a widow suits me even better. I am free… to do whatever I want."

She let her fingers discreetly caress up his arm and baffled he stared down at the moving hand without stopping her. Her invitation was evident.

"I am married", he said.

"I did not say I was looking to be married again. I only said, I am free to do as pleases me now."

Something in her words struck a chord inside him and with sudden clarity he knew what he had to do. It was not what he wanted, but he could not live like this. He would not be able to hide his fervent feelings much longer. Eliza's words had provided him with a solution, a way out. It was an extreme measure but so much better than anything else he could think of.

It had to be done.