Left speechless, Charlotte stared down at her hand as if seeing it for the first time. Her other hand moved to cover her mouth. “Oh, Joshua,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Is that a yes?” he wondered, still looking up at her. He had begun to squint, what with the setting sun directly in his eyes, and now his bent leg was protesting.
Charlotte reached down and helped to pull him up. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Make it one more ‘yes’ and I’ll marry you Saturday,” Joshua offered, a glint in his eye.
My birthday! “Yes!” Charlotte shouted happily, her arms wrapping around Joshua to hug him so hard it nearly hurt. “Oh, I thought you would never ask,” Charlotte murmured into the fabric of his topcoat. She inhaled deeply, reveling in the scent of sandalwood and brandy and citrus.
Joshua nearly chuckled, but he knew the sound would be caught in his throat. He had almost asked her the night before whilst brushing her hair. How different things would be today if he had!
What would Gisborn have done if he found his betrothed already affianced? Perhaps the man would have made a vocal protest before leaving in anger. This way, at least, the earl had left, although disappointed, on good terms with both Charlotte and him. And there had been the implication that in having been given the lands in Oxfordshire, Gisborn would be a good steward. He had even hinted that part of them might one day be a suitable home for one or more of Charlotte’s children.
My children, Joshua realized suddenly, the thought a very humbling one.
“If you allow it, I would like to inform Mrs. Gates as soon as possible. She seems to think there is much to be done to prepare for a wedding,” Joshua said in a teasing voice, not adding he thought the woman had been planning his wedding ever since the fire.
“Of course,” Charlotte replied, her head nodding against his coat. “And I must write to my parents. Would it be agreeable with your if I invited them to the ceremony?” Her head had come away from his chest to look up at him.
Joshua smiled and inhaled deeply. “Of course. And might I invite Grandby?” he wondered, thinking their mutual godfather should be present as a witness.
“Oh, yes,” Charlotte breathed, her smile broadening. “And where will we marry?” she wondered then. “What about a license?”
Smiling, Joshua rubbed her lower back in assurance. “There is a chapel up in Plaistow,” he explained, “And a marriage license in my pocket.” He heard as well as felt Charlotte’s breath catch.
“When ..?” she wondered, her brows furrowing as she considered his words.
“Yesterday. I paid a visit to the archdeacon whilst I was in Chichester,” Joshua whispered. “I nearly asked you last night, but …” Charlotte’s breath caught again, and she finally let it out slowly.
“All this time … you were willing to marry me?” she asked in a quiet voice, wondering when he had changed his mind about matrimony. And to think, I might have agreed to the Earl of Gisborn’s proposal!
“I am now, and that is all that matters,” he replied carefully, still disappointed his marriage would be one of convenience and not one based on love, or at the very least, affection.
Charlotte stiffened, but nodded her understanding. Finally looking up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears, she lifted herself on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Wainwright, I shall do everything in my power to be the best wife you could ever hope for,” she whispered.
Joshua’s eyebrows cocked and he regarded her for a moment. “You can start by calling me ‘Joshua’ when we are alone,” he replied with just the slightest hint of humor. His lips found hers then, fitting to them in a gentle kiss he slowly deepened when he felt her arms reach up to wrap around his shoulders. He felt her wince as her movement stretched her wound. Reaching up with his hands, he took hers from his body and lowered them gently, and then finally ended the kiss by pulling away.
“There is much to do,” he said, a bit breathless. Kissing her hair, he bowed and quickly left the garden, leaving behind a very startled and somewhat befuddled bride-to-be.
Chapter 26
Lady Charlotte Meets Miss Wethersby
Back in her bedchamber, Charlotte moved to the window where workman from the west wing restoration project had replaced the broken glass that morning. The hinged panes, clearer than the single pane that had shattered in the explosion, afforded her a view to the east that was bucolic and bright under a cloudless sky.
Remembering her ride with Joshua, she tried to find the various landmarks they had passed, her eyes finally stopping on the dowager cottage. Expecting to see it sitting quietly amongst a few trees and next to the creek that wound its way through the estate, she was startled to see instead several wagons and people moving about. She found herself wishing she had a quizzing glass and then chided herself—it would be entirely inappropriate to spy on whomever was working at the cottage.
Having completed enough design decisions on a few rooms in the west wing to stay ahead of the work crew, she had taken her leave of the project and come to her room to get a bonnet and pelisse. Given the events of the day before, she wanted time to think and a chance to reflect on what had happened, and she thought a late afternoon walk would allow her to do both.
A brief note to her parents had been dispatched the night before, along with a letter Joshua had written to the Earl of Torrington, informing them of their upcoming nuptials. Despite Joshua’s assurances he didn’t expect a dowry in exchange for marrying her, Charlotte still felt as if he were being cheated out of what was rightfully his. Garrett’s most recent note from London confirmed the information the Earl of Gisborn had provided, but it hinted he might learn more upon visiting her parents. That would have happened sometime yesterday, she thought.
Curious about the work at the cottage, Charlotte donned her bonnet and pelisse and headed out the front door, waving to Gates as she did so. She considered finding a maid to walk with her, but the ground she would be covering was mostly open and in view from the main house.
The ten minutes it took her to reach the cottage went by quickly as she watched the activity. Her reason for going on the walk was long forgotten when she noticed that, in addition to the three wagons lined up on the flagstones, their horses now hobbled and enjoying the grass alongside the drive, the duke’s coach was parked there, too. Workmen were carrying furniture and crates into the house. What is going on here? she wondered, suddenly a bit concerned. When two footmen removed a trunk from the back of the coach, a groom climbed into the seat and set the coach in motion, apparently to take it back to the carriage house. Although she didn’t recognize any of the laborers, they nodded in her direction as they busied themselves with their burdens.
When Garrett McElliott appeared on the cottage’s stoop, he noticed her and waved. Charlotte hurried toward him as he stepped down onto the pavers leading to the cottage from the drive. He bowed and took her hand after she curtsied.
“Lady Charlotte,” Garrett said as he brought her gloved hand to his lips and gave her a quick peck. “Are best wishes in order?” he asked as he let go of her hand. There was a carefree attitude about him, his grin making him appear much like he did when Charlotte first met him at a ball.
At least the events of the last few days didn’t seem to wear on him, Charlotte considered as she blushed in response to his question. “He asked. I said ‘yes,’ of course,” she replied with a broad smile. “We’re to be married this Saturday.”
The estate manager allowed a grin. “Then I am in good company,” he stated. At Charlotte’s look of confusion, he added, “I asked. She said ‘yes’. And we’ll marry Saturday morning, as well.”
Charlotte blinked. “You’re … getting married?” she replied, her flushed face brightening. “Is this … rather sudden?” she wondered, knowing her question was a bit inappropriate. “Pardon me. I didn’t know you were courting anyone.”
Garrett took a deep breath. “Trut
h be told, I have thought of no one but my Jane for some time now. And I believe it’s time I made her my wife. I couldn’t imagine her with another without …” He stopped, his face coloring up as he realized to whom he was making his confession.
“Feeling very jealous?” Charlotte finished for him. At his reluctant nod, she added, “I wish you very happy. Joshua must be happy … relieved to know he is not the only one about to be leg shackled. He’ll appreciate the company,” she teased, a brilliant smile appearing.
“Might I make a request of you?” he wondered, a flash of worry suddenly crossing his face.
Charlotte’s eyes widened as she regarded the estate manager. “Why, of course. What is it, Garrett?” she asked, trying hard not to notice the rather tall woman who suddenly appeared in the doorway of the dower house.
“I have not yet told His Grace about my plans to marry … and to … occupy the dower house,” he said with a lowered voice, pursing his lips. Color flushed his face, highlighting the embarrassment he felt at having surreptitiously moved into the cottage without so much as a word to Joshua about him even being back at Wisborough Oaks.
A slow smile spread over Charlotte’s face. “And I will not be the one to tell him. But only if you introduce me to the lovely lady whom I see behind you,” she teased, her smile widening as she took in the sight of Jane Wethersby—a tall, willowy blonde wearing a white apron over a blue muslin round gown. The woman, who appeared a bit older than Charlotte, had a tentative smile on her face as she wiped her hands on her apron. But what drew Charlotte’s attention wasn’t the woman’s beauty—she was classically beautiful, Charlotte thought, with her heart-shaped face and large almond eyes, full lips and high cheekbones—but the bruise below the woman’s eye.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Lady Charlotte,” Garrett started to say as he waved toward Jane, his face breaking into a full-blown smile.
“Did you hit her?” Charlotte bit out, her anger so sudden it startled even her.
Garrett’s head snapped back as if he had been punched. “What? No, no, of course not,” he replied quickly, his brows furrowing. Overhearing the accusation, Jane gasped and lifted a hand to cover her face. “I would never …”
“How dare you strike a woman?” Charlotte retorted, interrupting Garrett as her fists clenched at her sides. So overcome was she with anger, her vision began to gray at the edges. Never in the time she had known Garrett McElliott would she suspect him of lifting a finger to do harm to a woman!
“He didn’t hit me, milady,” Jane said, her alarm evident as she hurried to Garrett’s side, her head shaking from side to side. Garrett wrapped an arm around Jane’s waist and pulled her against his side. “Truly,” she added. She curtsied then, the movement made awkward from Garrett having a hold on her. “Milady.”
Charlotte turned her attention back to the woman, her lips compressed into a line as she took in this information and suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment. The difference in their height to hers only magnified how small she felt at that moment. “Oh,” she managed before covering her mouth with a hand for a moment. “I apologize. Mr. McElliott, please accept my apology. I don’t know … why I … it was horrible of me to think ill of you …”
In all of her training to be a duchess, nothing could have prepared her for a situation like this. Before being whipped, she probably wouldn’t have reacted so, she realized. The feeling of helplessness she had experienced that night was like no other. She didn’t wish to ever feel that way again. Nor did she want another woman to, for that matter.
If she had been nervous at the prospect of meeting the future Duchess of Chichester, Jane was now at a loss to know what to do to help alleviate the lady’s obvious embarrassment.
Garrett sighed. “Your apology is accepted, Lady Charlotte.” He paused an awkward moment before adding, “Lady Charlotte, I would like you to meet Miss Jane Wethersby. Miss Wethersby has agreed to be my wife,” he stated, watching closely as Jane waited for Charlotte to either hold out a hand to shake hers or to nod in acknowledgment.
Charlotte did neither.
She threw her arms around Jane, their height difference forcing Jane to bend down a bit as she let out an “Oh, aye,” and giggled nervously.
“Oh, and where are my manners?” Charlotte asked rhetorically as she stepped back a bit. “It’s so very good to make your acquaintance, Miss Wethersby. I do hope we can be friends,” she said as she held out her right hand and shook Jane’s. She couldn’t help but notice Jane’s fingers were long and slender, their nails manicured to even ovals. A gold band with sapphires adorned her fourth finger.
Jane nodded, a wave of relief washing over her as she decided living near a duke wouldn’t be as intimidating as she had first thought. Charlotte turned to Garrett. “And just where have you been keeping her?” she asked in a tone suggesting Garrett had been deliberately hiding his fiancée. She reached up to give him a quick hug, wincing when she felt her stitches pull.
His grin returning, Garrett pulled Jane’s hand into the crook of his elbow. “Miss Wethersby has been living in London. She was a faro banker and a vingt-et-un dealer. His Grace and I played many games at her table these past couple of years,” he explained proudly, not realizing how his words would sound to Charlotte.
“He lost a good deal of money, is what he really means,” Jane put in quickly, a slight Scottish lilt apparent in her voice. “But he’s gettin’ it all back by marrying me,” she added with an arched eyebrow, her teasing making Garrett redden but grin self-consciously. The steady whistle of a boiling teakettle sounded from the cottage. “Oh, that’ll be the water for tea. Will you join us for tea, milady?” she asked then. “We’re a bit late with it today, what with moving in and all.”
Charlotte smiled, deciding she rather liked Garrett’s intended. “Yes, of course. And do call me Charlotte,” she urged as they moved to the cottage.
The last of the furniture had been unloaded from two of the wagons and was already placed in the small dower house. Marveling at the quality and craftsmanship of the pieces, Charlotte wondered if they belonged to Garrett or to Jane. An Aubusson carpet, fairly new or, at least, not very worn, covered nearly all the wood planks that made up the front room floor. The velvet settee was finer than any in the main house. A low table made of cherry was placed in front of it, and another cherry side table stood next to a side chair. Accessories had already been unpacked and positioned about the room, as if everything in the room had been designed specifically for the space.
Charlotte noticed a large sheet of foolscap laid out on a Chippendale dining table, a floor plan of the cottage drawn on it. Someone had used a piece of charcoal to draw the pieces of furniture on the floor plan, and now those pieces were all placed to match what was shown on the plan. Garrett’s work, no doubt, she realized. She had been working with drawings just like this one in her work on the main house.
“One would hardly know you just moved in today,” Charlotte commented as she moved to take a seat in an upholstered Chippendale chair. Garrett waited for her to sit before he did so in a wingback chair, his action suggesting he had sat in that very chair many times before.
“Mr. McElliott is very good at motivating workmen,” Jane said as she brought a tea tray from the kitchen area. She said a silent thanks to Annie for having the foresight to send her off this morning with a tin of Dutch biscuits, several meat pasties, and enough cheese and bread to last as few days. Although she could cook if she had to, she didn’t yet have kitchen staples, food, or utensils. Garrett had said they would take a quick trip to Petworth when they were ready to stock the pantry; given the late hour of the afternoon, she figured they would do so in the morning.
The porcelain tea set was of high quality Wedgwood, Charlotte recognized, and given the expensive furniture surrounding her, she wondered how the woman could afford such extravagance.
“Bribes do make men work faster,” Garrett acknowledged with a sly grin. �
�But I was more concerned they didn’t break anything. Miss Wethersby has some very nice pieces. It would have been a shame to lose a chair or a crystal goblet because things were packed poorly,” he commented, leaning forward as Jane set down the tray to glide a hand down her arm.
Garrett seemed to find it hard to keep his hands off his fiancée, Charlotte noticed, suppressing the grin she felt coming on at watching him admire Jane. The older woman had removed her apron, and Charlotte thought her tall figure was well suited to the gown she wore. Garrett helped with the service, setting out cups on saucers as Jane poured and adding sugar when Charlotte nodded. “There’s no milk,” he said by way of an apology.
“Sugar will be fine,” Charlotte said with assurance. “The fact that you can even serve tea on your first day in a house is rather amazing, I should think,” she added as she watched three men moving what appeared to be bedroom furniture into a back room. Beautiful bedroom furniture. And all of it Jane’s? Garrett had made a fine choice in a wife, even if he found her in a gaming hell. “Your taste in decorating is exquisite,” Charlotte commented as she took the proffered cup from Jane. “Have you been employed in the decorating trade?”
The tall woman smiled but shook her head. “No, but thank you. I tend to … copy … rooms that I like. I haven’t had the opportunity to visit many homes, but my mother was a baron’s daughter, so I grew up in a home with grand furnishings and fabrics and all sorts of frippery,” she said with a wave of her hand.
Charlotte looked to Garrett before she said, “I don’t know if Mr. McElliott has told you, but I have been helping to choose furnishings and frippery for the west wing of the main house.”
Garrett snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Helping?” he repeated in jest. “Lady Charlotte is doing all the choosing, if the duke is to be believed.”
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