‘I did what I thought I had to do.’ Something flared in Tristan’s eyes. ‘I wanted to protect myself. I feared if your mother knew about our earlier encounter as well as my title…’
‘So instead, you seduced me.’
His mouth fell open.
‘You have no ready answer for that.’ Lottie tapped her foot.
‘I am no cad.’
‘Did your uncle leave you money?’ She forced her voice to be hard. ‘Did you mislead me about that as well? Did you?’
‘My uncle sought to leave me an empty title and a broken-down estate.’
‘That is no answer!’ She lifted her foot and then stopped, slowly lowered it. She was not going to start stamping like an overgrown child despite her fury at her husband.
‘It is the best you will get for now!’
‘I want an answer, Tristan. I demand an answer! Did your uncle succeed?’
‘Look around you.’ Tristan gestured to the house. ‘It is a shadow of what it once was. Gortner Hall was the grandest house in the district once. It is a ruin.’
‘There is more to it.’ Lottie crossed her arms as anger surged through her once again. ‘Even now, you seek to twist my words. It was your coachman who gave me money at Gretna Green, wasn’t it? He was acting under your orders, I presume, when he handed me the money. You wanted me to go. You had no intention of marrying me.’
‘I found you! I rescued you!’ He stretched his hands out to her, a gesture designed to placate her.
‘Only because you abandoned me in the first place!’ She crossed her arms tighter, held them in place. Refused to be manipulated. ‘Why did you look for me, Tristan?’
‘You are only asking because you want to pretend to be angry with me.’
‘There is no pretence about my anger, Lord Thorngrafton.’
A huge great crater opened up in her middle. She met his gaze measure for measure. Did not look away. His shoulders sagged. He ran a hand over his face. ‘Do we have to stand here, arguing like fishwives? I have been up all night, Carlotta. Allow me some sleep and we will speak. We have much to discuss. But later, sensibly. I can explain everything, if you will let me. I had to be certain.’
‘No!’ Lottie kept her head high. Inside, her heart had shattered into a thousand shards. She doubted that she would ever feel whole and secure again. She had loved him. Trusted him. It would be very tempting with him here to allow everything to be postponed. She could feel the tug of attraction, but she knew what was right. And what he had done to her. How he had treated her. ‘We have nothing to discuss later, Tristan. We discuss this now.’
‘No?’ He took a step towards her. His hands were outstretched, but she moved away from him and his hands fell to his sides. ‘We are married.’
‘Are we even married? You never said your title.’ Hot tears sprung to her eyes. She blinked rapidly. ‘Or were you going to discard me when you’d had your fun?’
‘Yes, we are married. You were there. We married over the blacksmith’s anvil. I gave my full name. It is a legal marriage, Lottie. You are my wife.’
‘You decided to test me.’ Lottie stared at him. The full horror of what he had done sinking in. ‘You did those things to me deliberately. At the inn. Those men who attacked me.’
‘You did those things yourself. You paid no heed to my advice. You would have come to no harm.’
‘You left me there!’
‘I was going to tell you the truth, Lottie.’
‘When? You had ample opportunity. It is not as if we have never spoken.’
Tristan’s lips became a thin white line. ‘Once I was sure. This was our wedding trip. Our chance to get to know each other before the world crowded in.’
‘You never even attempted to get to know me.’ Lottie picked up her satchel. ‘I am leaving you, Tristan. I am going back to my world. This was a false world. What we shared was false. You tricked me.’
‘There is an explanation.’
‘You only think there is an explanation.’ Lottie’s stomach ached and she knew the lump in her throat was growing beyond all proportion. And if it became too large, she would burst into noisy floods of tears. She refused to cry in front of Tristan and to show how deeply he had wounded her. She wanted to be strong. ‘I have gone over and over in my head the possibilities and have come to the conclusion that you thought me proud. That I needed to be punished. You had no right to do that, Tristan.’
‘I had every right!’
‘The man I thought I married would never have done that,’ Lottie replied quietly, in control of her emotions once more. ‘He had integrity.’
‘What are you going to do about it? I can’t change the past.’
‘I am leaving you, Tristan. You can stay in this ruined hall with your memories, but I am going back to my world, the world where I belong, the world where people love me. If this is marriage, it comes at far too high a cost.’
‘I thought I pleased you.’ He pulled her into his arms, lowered his face, but she turned her head and pushed at his chest. His hands let her go. He stood stock still, chin lifted high, a remote expression on his face.
Lottie swallowed hard. He was seeking to manipulate her. Again. This time it was not going to happen. This time she would win.
‘Physical attraction vanishes, Tristan, when you betray someone. And you betrayed me in the worst way.’ She picked up her satchel and held it in front of her like a shield. If he made another move towards her, she would be tempted to melt and she was determined not to do that. She wanted him to understand what she had gone through. ‘You decided that I was a blank slate to write on, to mould and shape however you wanted. You never asked me if I wanted that.’
‘I may have been highhanded, but it was for the best. I needed to know.’
‘May have been? Definitely you were.’ Lottie composed her features. She had made her plans in that long dark night. She was not some desperate woman, intent on having her man at any cost. Tristan had to want her and her alone. ‘Goodbye, Lord Thorngrafton.’
‘Goodbye? We have not yet begun!’ The roar of his words resounded in her ears. ‘You are not going anywhere, Carlotta. I forbid it.’
‘I have always hated that name, Lord Thorngrafton.’ Lottie held out her hand briefly. She saw that he ignored it, preferring to stand there glowering at her. She composed her features and refused to show any sign of weakness.
‘I thought our time together would show me who you really were. And it has!’ Tristan turned on his heels and closed the door behind him with a thundering crash.
Lottie waited for a moment, head tilted. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps mounting the stairs. A great feeling of loss welled up inside her. Angrily, she brushed away her tears. He thought he could end the argument by simply leaving the room and that she would obey him. He had another thing coming.
She twisted off her iron wedding ring and placed it on the marble-topped table by the entrance. Tristan would be sure to find it, if he looked.
‘It was so very pleasant to have had this time with you, Lord Thorngrafton. Truly enlightening. I do so hate prolonged goodbyes. I wish you great joy in the future,’ she said to the empty hall.
Chapter Fifteen
Tristan sat in the empty morning room, turning the tiny iron ring over and over in his hand. The room seemed lifeless without Lottie’s presence. It was surprising how in a few short days, he had come to rely on her being there, hearing her excited chatter and listening to her latest scheme. It was as if a large part of him had gone with her.
Lottie would return. This was a grandiose gesture on her part. She would not even get as far as Hexham station. All he had to do was wait.
‘Mrs Elton,’ he called. ‘What train was Lottie leaving on?’
‘The express. For Newcastle.’
Tristan glanced up at the clock. A great emptiness opened inside him. If she was going to return, she would have been back by now.
She had gone. Left. Without a backward glance, wi
thout waiting to hear his explanation.
This was not how it was supposed to have happened. He had calculated that she might be slightly angry with him, but that she would have been pleased to have all her dreams come true.
He took one last look at the ring and placed it in his pocket. He would lock it away somewhere, keep it in a box and never take it out again. And he would go far from here. Never to return.
He pressed his hands against the mantelpiece. Was this what his uncle had felt when Suzanne had left him? Was he only seeking to possess Lottie? Should he just go about his business as if Lottie had never entered his life?
Tristan gave a wry smile. It was almost as if his uncle had set a trap for him, one that he had blindly walked into. Had he become his uncle?
Instantly Tristan rejected the notion. He did not want to possess Lottie. He wanted her in his life. His life would be an empty place without her. And he had never even asked her to stay.
His fingers went to his other coat pocket where her Claude glass resided, had resided ever since he’d found it.
He would get her back. He would fight for her. He was finished with games and riddles. Lottie was too valuable for such things. He only wished that he had realised that before.
He would get her back…even if it took a lifetime.
She did not stand a chance.
He had to be patient and draw on all the lessons he had learnt. Only now it seemed that he was playing for the highest stakes—Lottie’s love.
‘And is that the end of your tale?’ Lucy Charlton leant forward and touched Lottie’s hand. Her sister-in-law’s face was wreathed in worry lines as Lottie finished recounting her tale later that afternoon in Newcastle.
‘I came here.’
Lottie put her head back against the armchair in the familiar comfort of Lucy and Henry’s dining room. It was a place where nothing bad was ever allowed to happen. The walls were painted the most fashionable shade of Dragon’s Blood red. White lace hung over the backs of chairs and pincushions with their mottos carefully pricked by Lucy’s friends were arranged so that they could be admired. Familiar. Safe, but somehow stifling. All the way back to Newcastle Lottie had thought that if she made it here, everything would be fine. But she had been wrong. Everything was far from fine.
Every bone in her body ached and a great weariness swept over her. She would cry except she believed she no longer had any tears left inside her. She had shed those last night while she’d waited for Tristan’s return. Now she felt like a dried-out husk. She doubted whether she would ever feel anything again.
‘But surely Lord Thorngrafton tried to stop you.’
‘No, Lucy, he made no effort. The journey was quite straightforward. Mrs Elton had arranged for a pony cart. The express arrived swiftly and I caught a cab to your house.’
‘Mother Charlton remains at Shaw’s. She is hopeful of Sir Geoffrey Lea for herself. She is very proud of your marriage, you know.’
‘She knew about Tristan’s title?’
‘Not at first. I believe Sir Geoffrey used the knowledge to comfort her later.’
‘Sir Geoffrey knew? Why didn’t he warn me?’
‘Who would you rather be married to?’ Lucy’s eyes danced.
To Tristan, came the immediate answer. To the man I said yes to. The man I am afraid doesn’t exist. Lottie managed to hold back the words. ‘That question is not relevant, Lucy. I would have found a way. Mama was being stubborn.’
‘You have your title, Lottie. Isn’t that what you said you would always have?’
‘Times change.’ Lottie rubbed a hand across her face. ‘I had very little sleep last night and almost none on the train. I am so sorry for my poor company, Lucy. You must think me dreadfully dull, going on in this manner.’
Lucy reached over and squeezed Lottie’s hand. ‘But the problem remains unresolved—what are you going to do with your future now that you have left Lord Thorngrafton?’
Somehow the fact that Lucy used Tristan’s title made things easier. Lottie knew she had never been in love with Lord Thorngrafton. It had been Tristan she’d loved. And every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. That one last terrible look he had given her. Cold and unforgiving. Had he even seen her, or had he merely seen the reflection of Suzanne? Deep within her, Lottie knew that she was far from being that sort of person and that was what hurt most. He had judged her and found her wanting.
‘I had rather thought to go on as before.’
‘You are married, Lottie. There may be consequences…’
Lottie put her hand to her mouth. ‘I had never thought about such things as babies.’
‘You should do. From what Henry wrote me, you and Lord Thorngrafton have been engaged in an activity that is likely to result in children.’
‘Lucy! I never!’
‘Well, it is why you married, isn’t it?’ Lucy folded her hands on her laps. ‘One might as well be practical about such things. We are both old married women now. You know what goes on behind closed bedroom doors.’
A small warm bubble built inside her. She would like to be a mother and to hold Tristan’s child in her arms. But then it popped. She had stopped believing in dreams. Right now that would be the worst thing for her. Tristan would have complete rights over the child. She would have nothing. Life was cruel to do that to women. It was wrong. She pushed away her fears, composed her thoughts. ‘I will cross that bridge when I come to it.’
‘If that is the way you feel.’ Lucy bent her head and kissed Lottie’s cheek.
‘And the question remains—what am I to do now?’
‘You are quite resolved not to return to Lord Thorngrafton?’
‘There is no point. There is nothing in that relationship, Lucy. He does not respect me.’ Lottie fought hard to keep her voice calm. ‘I discovered that I wanted more from my marriage than he was prepared to give. I deserved more.’
‘You, of course, may stay here for the time being. A woman alone in Mother Charlton’s house would not be suitable. If you are determined to take this course.’
‘I am quite determined, I have done nothing to feel ashamed of.’
‘Good, then you will come with me to the At Homes. You always enjoyed such things.’ Lucy proceeded to list the ones that were happening the next day.
Lottie shook her head. ‘I couldn’t bear it. No, not yet, Lucy. Give me a few days. I need to rest after my journey.’
‘You did say you were tired.’ Lucy’s eyes were speculative. ‘I will give you some time before you go back into society, but your true friends will stand by you, as I will.’
Lottie turned her head and tried not to think about what might have been, that green and pleasant land shimmering just beyond her reach.
Lottie sought to hide a yawn. Her fourth conversation about the weather in as many stops. She should never have agreed to join Lucy for today’s At Home round. They still had two more stops, including Emma Stanton’s first At Home since she’d returned with her new husband from Italy.
‘I hear you have married, Lottie.’ Mrs Fletcher, one of the leading matrons of Newcastle, advanced towards her, leaning heavily on a cane. A woman who had often shown little regard for her mother.
‘Very suddenly.’
Mrs Fletcher peered around her. ‘And your new husband, he is not with you? I understand you are making your first calls after your marriage.’
‘Yes, I am. It is amazing how many people have remarked on that.’ Lottie leant forward, swallowing the annoyance that rose in her throat. ‘But enough about me—tell me, how is your bad leg? Has it started to heal? I was speaking with Mrs Elton, my husband’s housekeeper, about such matters and she swears by a special ointment.’
Mrs Fletcher started on a long rambling explanation and Lottie breathed a little easier. She would write to Mrs Elton and get the recipe for Mrs Fletcher. It would give her something to do. She would have preferred not to do the calls on her own, but she could. And it was only those people who were not
truly her friends who mentioned the lack of a husband by her side. Her friends were either happy for her or concerned that she appeared pale.
‘You know my dear…’ Mrs Fletcher had finished her story ‘…I never realised before what a good listener you are.’
‘I like hearing about other people. I am interested in them and tend to want to find a solution to their problems. It is one of my most glaring defects.’
‘Hardly a defect and time will curb your impulses. I must have you and your new husband to dinner. You remind me of myself when I was a young bride.’
‘That would be lovely.’ Lottie pasted on a smile. ‘I shall have to consult Tristan.’
‘And what does Mr Dyvelston do?’
‘She means Lord Thorngrafton, Mother.’ Mrs Fletcher’s younger daughter came up hurrying up. ‘Lucy has just told me that you married a lord!’
‘You are a dark horse, Lady Thorngrafton.’ Mrs Fletcher inclined her head. ‘I do hope we will get to know each other better. I fear I may have misjudged you. You must be ecstatic.’
‘Supremely happy in every way.’ Lottie forced the words from her throat. ‘All of my girlish dreams have come true. And what more could I ask for?’
‘And will we see your husband at the summer ball, Lady Thorngrafton?’ The younger Miss Fletcher gave a sharp-toothed smile. ‘I do so long to meet him and see the man who swept the incomparable Lottie Charlton off her feet.’
Lottie found it difficult to breathe. She had hoped to avoid the subject of Tristan. Each time he was mentioned, it was like a dagger to her heart, opening the wound once more. Someday, it might close, but for now it was physically painful.
‘Lottie has no idea when Lord Thorngrafton’s business will be finished.’ Lucy’s arm went around her waist and Lottie regretted every solitary cruel thought that she had ever had about Lucy. Lucy was kind and Henry was lucky to have her as his wife. She could hear the real affection that Lucy had for Henry.
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