There was a gentle lift to Lord Thatcher’s mouth. “Do you like to read, Mrs. Fielding?”
“Indeed, I do.”
“What sort of books do you like?”
“Mysteries.”
He smirked. “Strange, but I didn’t think you’d be the type.”
“Why?
He shrugged as he walked to the soft brown leather sofa. “I don’t know. I just can’t imagine your interest to lie in that area.” He paused and grinned. “Would you like to look around?”
“Oh, yes,” Charlotte and Allison chimed in unison.
Charlotte moved from book to book, trying to decide which one to read first. The castle was more exciting than she’d thought possible, and Lord Thatcher intrigued her by the minute. She hoped she could develop a lasting friendship with the man. But then Lord Thatcher didn’t like Ian. This would certainly become a problem in the near future.
* * * *
Adam relaxed against his leather couch as Charlotte scanned the bookshelves, her hand moving along each book as she went. Those two women were different as night and day. Each had their own special beauty, but Mrs. Archibald seemed to be more aggressive after she got over the initial shock of seeing his face. Charlotte presented a sweet demure of politeness in a shy sort of manner. Their tastes in books were even different. Whereas Charlotte looked for the mysteries, Mrs. Archibald settled more for the non-fiction or biographies. He even noticed she picked up a few sonnets.
After the women made their selections, they sat on the sofas huddling around the fireplace. They discussed the books they’d previously read. It surprised him to hear Charlotte was indeed the mystery type woman. The more he knew about this lovely woman, the more intrigued he became.
Mrs. Archibald poured tea as they visited for two more hours. Unfortunately, he couldn’t visit with them much longer. Too many things needed to be done around the castle.
He cleared his throat, getting both women’s attention. “I hate to put a damper on our lovely afternoon, but I must get back to work.”
Charlotte frowned, which made Adam grin. It was good to know she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.
She nodded. “Perfectly understandable, Lord Thatcher. Both Mrs. Archibald and I think it’s a pleasure to have spent the afternoon with you.”
“Then our feelings are mutual.”
He led them back through the castle to the front doors. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you an adequate tour, but after I fix up the place, I promise to invite you back for a grand excursion.”
Charlotte gently laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon. Is there anything I can bring you from town?”
His heart sped. It’s been far too long since a woman touched him so personally. “Not at this time. You did, I presume, get the job notice posted?”
“But of course.”
“Splendid. I hope to hear something soon.”
He walked the ladies to their carriage and assisted them inside. Galloping horses coming up his drive made him turn in that direction. When he saw the uninvited visitors, he frowned.
He stepped back away from the carriage to greet them. Three of the commissioner’s men rode up and stopped. They passed him rude stares through their squeamish expressions.
“Are you Lord Thatcher?” the first man asked with gruffness in his voice.
Adam folded his arms across his chest. “I am. May I be of any assistance?”
“Yes. We were told Mrs. Fielding is here.”
Confusion rooted itself in his mind as he glanced over at the buggy. “Yes. She’s preparing to leave.”
“We need to speak with her.”
Adam’s heart sank as he studied their faces. Something was not right. He hobbled to the buggy and helped Charlotte down. She faced the commissioner’s men wearing a worried brow.
“I’m Mrs. Fielding.”
“We need to know the whereabouts of your husband.”
A knot formed in Adam’s throat as Charlotte’s gaze darted back and forth between him and Mrs. Archibald. Why were the commissioner’s men asking these questions?
Charlotte raised her chin. “He’s out of town, but why do you need to know?”
The man in the middle, wearing the biggest scowl, stepped forward. “Because Madame, your husband is in trouble with the law.”
Charlotte gasped. “What? Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“But why? What has he done?”
“We expect him of thievery.”
Charlotte gasped again, and tossed him a harsh laugh. “Ian Fielding? A thief? I think not. You must be mistaken.”
“No, Madame. Several people have come forth and accused him.”
Charlotte’s brows drew together in irritation. “Like whom?”
“Most of his clients.”
“What proof do you have?”
The man shifted in his stance. “Your husband’s business is the only thing these fine people have in common. Your husband has done some investigative work for them in the past few months.”
She laughed ignorantly. “That’s all? That’s the only proof you have of his thievery?”
Her question made the lead man in charge blush. “Yes, so far. We’re just looking to question him in regards to some improprieties.”
“Improprieties? Indeed,” Charlotte snapped.
Adam shook his head. Nothing made sense. And poor Charlotte.
She held a straight expression. “Forgive me, but I cannot help you. I know he left yesterday morning and that he will be home tonight, but I cannot tell you what time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fielding. We’ll have a man on watch at your house for when he returns.” The man nodded then mounted his horse and left with the other two following close behind.
Mrs. Archibald placed her hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, but Charlotte stared after the commissioner’s men as they rode away.
“Charlotte?” Allison asked softly. “What are you going to do?”
“I—I—I don’t know.” She glanced back at Lord Thatcher. “Ian wouldn’t do something so despicable, would he?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t wish anything bad to happen to your husband, but there is the fact that...” he trailed off, hesitant to tell her.
“What?” Charlotte grabbed hold of his black-gloved hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, it’s a known fact to most of Bath that your husband’s finances are not in great condition. His work has been suffering and he hasn’t been making payments to his creditors.”
“No,” she gasped as her hand flew to her mouth.
“Which draws me to the conclusion that his so called friends have turned on him for some insane reason. Just because he’s had a bit of bad luck doesn’t mean he’s a thief. Your husband wouldn’t lower himself to steal.”
Tears welled in Charlotte’s eyes as she shook her head.
“Mrs. Fielding, the best thing for your husband right now is to stay away from the commissioner until he can discover who has laid claim to these false crimes.”
* * * *
Charlotte breathed slowly as the confusing thoughts swam in her head. She wanted to cry and scream all at the same time. And she wanted everyone to leave her alone to wallow in her misery. It wasn’t good to show her emotions now. The shock was too great for her to bear in front of company.
She turned to her host. “Lord Thatcher, thank you for the lovely afternoon, but we shan’t burden you a moment longer.”
When she moved to climb into the carriage, Lord Thatcher assisted her.
“Mrs. Fielding?” His voice brought her attention around. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
She nodded, and then Allison urged the horses forward.
Silence hung thick in the buggy for the first part of the ride back until Charlotte couldn’t hold back her doubts. “I think Ian wants me to stay with him for a month not only to rectify our marriage, but because I have the money to help him
out of his problems. I’m certain once he gets the money from me, he’ll leave me again.”
Allison touched her hand. “You can’t know that.”
Charlotte shrugged. “It’s how I feel.” Her gaze remained on the road. “What am I supposed to think, Allison?” She didn’t look at her friend, but continued. “The note he sent last night said he wasn’t going to make it home until this evening. Now I wonder if he’s out stealing from another client. Does he expect me to lie for him?”
Allison released a heavy sigh. “Oh, Charlotte, I think your imagination is getting the best of you. Why don’t you give Ian a chance to explain before you condemn him?”
Charlotte rolled it over in her head then nodded. “I’ll try my hardest to understand his explanation.”
She seriously hoped her confusion wouldn’t control her thoughts when she finally listened.
After Charlotte left Allison at the hotel, she returned to Ian’s townhouse. As the horse clip-clopped up the drive, she sighed in frustration. Three different men with police badges stood by the gate waiting to pounce on her like wolves on sheep. By their superior know-it-all stance, it was obvious they were lying in wait for her husband.
Lifting her chin a notch higher and keeping a straight back, she descended from the buggy and made her way toward the house. The men swarmed around her, demanding entrance into her home to search the premises. Their snippish attitudes made her want to drive her fist through their turned-up noses, but Charlotte simmered her anger and let them in. They pushed past her in haste when she opened the door, nearly knocking her down in the process. Their boots clomped on the hard wooden floors, making her stomach twist.
A small crowd gathered outside her home to watch the spectacle, and embarrassment washed over her again. She turned to hurry back to the buggy, but a haggardly old woman stepped in her path and stopped her by grabbing her elbow.
“Excuse me, dearie?” the woman’s high-pitched voice squeaked. “Are ye all right? Are those men bothering ye?”
Charlotte yanked her arm away. “I’m fine, and no, those men are not bothering me. Not yet, anyway.” Once again, Charlotte tried to leave, but the old lady stopped her.
“Do ye needs me to stay wit ye?”
She gave the tall but portly woman a crossed look. “No, I’ll be quite all right.”
The lady wrapped her fingers tighter to Charlotte’s elbow, her eyes darting around the small gathering. The crowd pushed closer to the house, and the older woman pulled Charlotte away from the onlookers.
Charlotte tried to pry the miscreant’s fingers off her arm, getting more frustrated by the second. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you will unhand me or I’ll scream,” Charlotte snapped.
“Charlotte, it’s me.”
When she recognized her husband’s voice, her eyes widened and a small gasp escaped her throat. She swept her gaze over the old lady once again and noticed a slight resemblance to her husband, but the full bosom and rounded hips were that of a woman.
“I’m in disguise so the commissioner’s men won’t notice me,” he said softer.
She scanned his attire again, still not believing what she saw. “What are you doing here?” Her voice rose. “And why in heaven’s name are the commissioner’s men here?”
“I don’t have time to explain, but you have to help me.”
“I will not!”
“Shh.” He tugged on her arm. “Please lower your voice. Charlotte, you have to hear me out, but I can’t explain right now. There are too many people around.”
“No, I do not have to hear an explanation from you,” she snapped.
He released her arm, his face sobering. “No, I suppose you don’t, but will you anyway?”
She really should send him on his way, but the gentleness of his voice tore at her heart. She relented. “Where and when?”
He gave her a soft smile. “I’ll wait until the men leave. I’ll remain as an old woman, so when I come to the door, please let me in.”
Chapter Eight
Charlotte’s impatient footsteps marked up Ian’s expensive gold and red Persian rug as she paced in the parlor, waiting for the commissioner’s men to finish their business. She glanced at the pendulum against the far wall as the minutes slowly crept by, each tick making her want to scream.
Another hour passed with her holding her tongue, but she finally had enough. She let her temper explode at the first man who crossed her path. “I do believe your time is up!”
He lifted his chin a notch higher. “But the commissioner—”
“I don’t give a hoot what the commissioner says.” She anchored her hands on her hips. “Unless he has a handwritten note from the mayor himself, I’ll not let you into my house again. Is that clear?”
Ian’s servant, O’Toole, quickly took his place by her side, his chest puffed and ready for battle. It relieved her to see he and the other servants ushering the lawmen outside with brooms and sharp utensils in their possession. It was her privilege to slam the door, but when the commissioner’s men lurked in the yard, her heart sank.
The butler moved beside her. “Don’t believe a word those men say. The master would never do anything as despicable as what they’re accusing.”
“Thank you, O’Toole, but I’m anxious to hear Ian defend these accusations.”
“Can I get you a snifter of brandy? Perhaps that might help calm your nerves.”
She nodded as she rested her stressed body in the softness of the parlor’s sofa. “That would be delightful.”
O’Toole stepped out of the room, gently closing the door. The ring from the pull-string outside echoed through the house, making her headache pound. “O’Toole, please send whoever it is away. I don’t feel up to company this evening,” she called out to him, laying the palm of her hand on her forehead.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Sighing, she relaxed her head against the softness of the heavily cushioned sofa. As she took a deep breath, she tried to calm her pounding head, but suddenly, loud arguing voices disturbed her peacefulness. Ian! With her heart in a quick rhythm, she jumped up and hurried to the door. O’Toole stood next to the haggardly lady, physically attempting to prevent her from coming through the door.
“O’Toole?” Charlotte cried out. “It’s all right. I’d forgotten she was coming for tea this evening.”
Confusion creased O’Toole’s brow as he stared dumbstruck at her, but he nodded and stepped away from the door. He opened it wider and let the older woman in.
“I told ye!” The old woman hit the butler over the head with her handbag. “Yer nothin’ but a twitterin’ fool.”
Charlotte hid her grin behind her hand. Ian did such a good job acting the part of an old woman it was really quite comical. It pleased her to know the butler was so protective. She grasped control and erased the humor from her face. “Please, come into the parlor with me.”
“Ye had better give that butler of yers a good talk’n to, Miz Fielding,” the old woman snapped, glaring harshly at the servant.
“I will,” Charlotte assured. “O’Toole? Will you kindly inform the cook to make us up some cakes to go with our tea?”
“Yes, Mistress.” He gave a quick scowl to the old woman, and then turned sharply and left.
After Charlotte closed the doors, the deep rumble of laughter echoed through the room as Ian’s chest shook. She, too, cracked a smile.
“Did you see his face?” Ian chuckled. “O’Toole will never forgive me when he finds out it was really me.”
Laughter left her. “I may never forgive you,” she softly replied.
Ian sighed as he walked to the sofa. Gingerly, he sat and patted the place beside him. “I want to first start off by saying I didn’t do the crimes which have been slandered against me. You cannot believe one word the commissioner’s men have said.”
She gave him a blank stare.
“Charlotte, you have to believe me, I didn’t steal from my clients. I’m not the thief they’r
e after. I believe the commissioner has put words into their mouths.”
Glancing over his attire, she asked, “Then why do you hide? Why don’t you come forth and proclaim your innocence?”
“You don’t know the way of things here. Everything is out of control, especially the government because there is no government. The richer you are the more power you have, and the more power you have, the more in control you are.”
“Are you planning on hiding for the rest of your life as an old woman?”
“No, my dear. I plan on finding who is doing these crimes so I can clear my good name.”
As he stared at her, confusion swam in her head. It was hard to think right now, and her throbbing skull had nothing to do with it. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
His gaze dropped to his folded hands in his lap. “I don’t know.”
“I suppose you want me to stay in Bath?”
His head snapped up and his gaze met hers. “Of course. Where else will you stay?”
“I considered returning home to Surrey.”
O’Toole came back in the room holding a tray of tea and cakes. Charlotte kept silent, as did Ian as the butler placed the tray down on the small table in front of them, and then left the room.
“Would you like some tea?” Charlotte asked as she leaned forward on the sofa and began pouring.
“Yes.”
She handed him his cup. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“What are your comments to what I’ve said?”
“I wish you’d change your mind.”
Charlotte sipped her tea. “Why? Because of our agreement?”
“Yes, mainly.”
“But how are we supposed to play out the month if you’re on the run and dressed as an old woman?”
He shrugged. “I’m not certain. I haven’t thought it out enough to decide what’s going to happen. All of this was rather sudden for me.”
After finishing her tea, she placed the saucer back on the tray. She stood and walked to the fireplace. “I’ll stay another couple of days. If you haven’t straightened this mess out, I’m leaving. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
When she glanced at him, his piercing brown eyes remained on her. Sadness showed through his disguised face. “I don’t suppose you’d like to come back home with me?”
Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) Page 10