London's Best Kept Secret

by Anabelle Bryant

  A strange noise, one of abbreviated mockery or mayhap jocularity, emerged from Lindsey’s throat. “Well, that complicates things. Have you informed her of your vile misdeed?” He dared a short chuckle.

  Oh, but how that question spoke to another matter altogether.

  “I can’t.” Dearing discarded the mangled piece of bread and shot from the chair, impatient and at odds with Lindsey’s waggish attitude. “Everything’s in mutability.”

  “If ever there existed a perfect word . . .” Lindsey muttered before stirring more cream into his cup. “And from this, you believe your wife has taken me as her lover? Good to hear my reputation stands.”

  Dearing waved away the latter and resettled in his chair. “I don’t know how to make things right.”

  “Of course you do. But you’ll need to think on it and act because I have no more counsel for you.” Lindsey poured another cup of coffee, silent and seemingly at peace with his final words.

  “What do you mean?” Dearing leaned in, impatient for Lindsey to continue.

  “Exactly what I’ve said. It’s all in your control from here on. I can no longer continue these conversations. Go home and apologize if that soothes your conscience. It doesn’t matter how you’ve gained Charlotte or what underhanded method secured her vow. She’s yours. Stop wasting time. Make love to your wife, passionately and repeatedly. Cease all these ridiculous misunderstandings and preconceptions. Time is wasting. Go. Now. And don’t darken my doorstep until you’ve achieved that goal. The stakes are high.”

  With Lindsey’s sage advice echoing in his ears, Dearing called for his carriage and aimed for Charlotte’s familial home. Nothing would be resolved with his wife if he did not first confess all sins to her father. Besides, were he to smooth things with Lord Notley, Charlotte might see reason more readily.

  Because he’d like nothing more than to enter his wife’s bedchambers and reveal the heartache he’d concealed for far too long. The deceit was destroying him, piece by piece, from the inside out, and he wanted his marriage happy and complete. His despicable secret needed to be told, but only after he first confessed his love for her and how he’d thought of her every moment since he’d first seen her, heard her music and composed his far-reaching wish she would belong to him alone.

  So much had transpired between them in a short span of time and he shouldered the fault. Had they built the foundation needed to weather this storm of emotional distress and dishonesty? Doubt threatened. And now, on his way to explain to Lord Notley with painstaking clarity the depth of his manipulation, did any hope exist?

  He had no time to chase the answers and once arrived was shown into the same drawing room where he’d first breached the subject of debt compensation and offered for Charlotte’s hand. The irony was not lost on him. In a matter of hours, he might not only see his marriage destroyed but his head handed to him as an extra measure.

  Still, Notley was an intelligent man and, with a clear understanding of the facts, could possibly overlook his misdeeds in consideration of the relationship involved. The earl loved his daughter and despite how things would appear upon the telling, Dearing loved Charlotte just as much, if not more so. He would need to assure Notley of the same. Still, he waited and stared into the firebox, aware he’d begun to placate himself with far-fetched wishes and dreams. It would prove his most persuasive argument to convince Notley he loved Charlotte in truth and hadn’t concocted the entire plot for the sole purpose of an investment advantage.

  “Dearing.” Notley entered, his expression more question than greeting. “What brings you here past visiting hours? Is Charlotte well?”

  “Yes, of course.” Dearing rose and shook his father-in-law’s hand. “I hope my unexpected arrival hasn’t proven an inconvenience. I need to speak to you concerning an urgent matter. There’s a business issue that remains unresolved and I’m here to correct the wrong.”

  “Wrong? This sounds ominous. Would you care for a brandy?” Notley gestured toward a stout chestnut sideboard where a collection of crystal decanters stood.

  “Thank you, no. I’d much rather begin.” Dearing watched Notley’s expression. The earl looked a bit sheepish, if that could be possible. He certainly wasn’t the one in the wrong.

  They settled in two leather wing chairs and Dearing quickly began. “First, I’d like to return the share of Middleton Railway stock given to me when I assisted with your financial difficulties.”

  “Return it? I don’t understand. Combined with investment in the company, you hold a fortune in your hands.” Notley’s expression turned dubious.

  “But I don’t deserve it.”

  The earl stared at him overlong, and somehow Dearing maintained eye contact, though the worst was yet to come.

  When at last Notley spoke, his voice was an ominous growl. “You don’t deserve it? Have you injured my daughter’s feelings? Have you hurt her in any way?”

  “No.” Quick to answer, Dearing rose from the chair and walked to the hearth, the weight of Notley’s piercing glare heavy on his shoulders. “At least not yet. The answer to your question is complicated.”

  “Then by all means explain, and do it without pause.”

  “Last year I began to purchase Middleton Railway stock with the single goal of gaining a controlling interest. I exhausted every opportunity but still had not amassed enough to hold the majority. Through my secretary’s inquiries, I discovered you held a single share. Alone, the certificate held little worth unless leveraged against a larger investment. But that single share was all I needed to hold the majority, so I instructed my secretary to prepare correspondence in that regard. At your instruction, your solicitor declined my offer.” Dearing drew a breath. “I assume at that time you had no financial worries and there existed no reason to part with a stock that offered security for the future.”

  “I understand.” The clipped words sounded as if they barely held Notley’s impatience at bay. “But what has this to do with my daughter?”

  “Please hear me out.” Dearing continued, though the telling would only become worse. “Determined to insinuate myself into your company and persuade you to sell, I deliberately attended the same affairs as your family. I made a point to frequent the parties and balls where you’d accepted invitations, and that’s where I first discovered Charlotte.”

  “You explained much of this when you first spoke to me of marrying my daughter. What bearing does this have on the present?”

  “It wasn’t only Charlotte’s music that drew me in. Your daughter enchanted me in every way. The lilt of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes . . .” He cleared his throat briefly. “I became besotted, much more interested in Charlotte than in any share of railway stock.”

  “And so you mean to return it now? Dearing, you’ve overlooked an important matter. You saved this family from ruin and asked for nothing in return aside from a woman who you profess stole your heart. It’s very generous and kind for you to make this offer and it raises your esteem in my eyes, but it’s unnecessary.”

  The earl’s expression again turned sheepish for reasons Dearing could not imagine. He swallowed past his hesitation and pushed on. “It’s more involved. Please allow me to continue.” He returned to the chair and met eyes with his father-in-law. “Wishing to gain favor with your daughter, I questioned anyone willing to spare a few moments of conversation. In the process I learned several gentlemen held hope of courting Charlotte. Some had already acted on impulse and gained favor in her company. One boasted of an imminent proposal. Their titles were loftier, their fortunes larger, their social standing highly respected. In my assessment, I didn’t measure up. I couldn’t compete with a pristine pedigree and a bloodline descended from royalty. They were far ahead of me in the game of suitable matches and held all the advantages.”

  Notley had the polite inclination not to comment, though his jaw was set tight, his interest keen.

  “Once my heart was given, my brain worked tirelessly to achieve my goal. I needed
to devise an expedient way to win Charlotte’s hand and discourage others. I’m a businessman whose greatest offerings are shrewd intellect and cutthroat negotiation, not attributes ladies prefer in gentlemen, but avenues of pursuit to change the rules and outcome.”

  “So, my fiscal hardship became your advantage. I understand, Dearing, and though it displeases me to hear it spoken aloud, this is not an altogether reprehensible thing. You took advantage of my failing finances, but by the same stroke, you saved my family from destitution.” Notley nodded thoughtfully. “One act washes away the other. You salvaged us no matter how you examine the facts.”

  “You may not see it that way in another moment. I haven’t explained everything.” Dearing exhaled and steeled himself. Regret knifed him in the gut at the explosive truth he needed to confess. “I manipulated the course of your investments. I purposely targeted the major companies that provided you income and wealth and systematically bankrupted each one.”

  Notley went incredibly still. It appeared he didn’t even breathe. Then he shot from his chair, his complexion reddened and his eyes wide with anger. “What did you say?”

  Dearing managed a hard blink, saved from repeating his despicable admission by Notley’s thunderous outrage.

  “You intentionally bankrupted me. You endangered my family’s security and reputation because you wanted Charlotte. My daughter is a treasure, that is true, but you should have courted her like any other gentleman and gained her favor.”

  “And what if I failed? I calculated the odds. I measured the risk and judged the outcome. Watching Charlotte become another man’s wife was an unacceptable proposition. Perhaps too many years of obtaining what I wanted without compromise blinded my better sense, but I have no regrets in making Charlotte my wife, just the manner in which I did it. I never meant to harm anyone and had complete control of the situation at all times, though I find myself at a loss to defend my methods. I only knew how desperately I wanted Charlotte.”

  “I should call the authorities.” Notley strode to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. He took a long swallow. “I’ve reassured Charlotte of your feelings and smoothed away her confusion with the explanation that marriage is an adjustment, but I never could have predicted this.”

  “You should know I reversed all detrimental manipulation of your investments once Charlotte accepted my proposal. Your finances are once again in good standing and all profits you might have earned have been set aside in a separate account for your daughter.”

  Silence enveloped the room.

  “Can you put yourself in my place for a moment?” Dearing waited for what seemed an interminable time.

  “No.” Notley shook his head emphatically. “What you did was unscrupulous and reprehensible. The reason for your actions doesn’t exonerate the method. If it wasn’t my precious daughter’s happiness at stake, I would show you to the door with the heel of my boot.”

  “I understand.” And he did. Any respectable father would act with equal outrage. “I’m sorry for putting your family through distress. I hope you can come to accept my apology.”

  “I’m not sure how to react, Dearing. You hurt my family to gain Charlotte because you care for her. Yet if that’s true, why would you begin a marriage with lies and deceit? Such an endeavor is sure to fail. And when I think of Charlotte’s confusion and yet her total agreement to marriage in light of our penury, my daughter deserves better.”

  Dearing sighed heavily. “I intend to tell her the whole of it, but I needed to speak to you first.”

  “Another manipulation?” Notley seemed to adjust to this news.

  “No. Charlotte will need reassurance, and if I’ve any hope of gaining her forgiveness, she must know you’ve learned the greater truth.”

  “Which is what exactly?”

  “I love your daughter above all else.” He stared directly at Notley so there could be no doubt of his confession. “I went about my business in all the wrong ways, but at the core of every action was my determination to win Charlotte’s hand.”

  “Win her hand?” Notley harrumphed. “You stole her from me.” He stood quietly and assessed Dearing with a keen stare. “Have you succeeded?”

  “It’s my solitary goal and purpose.”

  Notley nodded. “If you’re able to convince Charlotte of your sincere affection and she harbors no anger, then we’ll see ourselves to a resolution. Though I daresay I will never repeat this to my wife. She won’t behave as graciously. It’s best left between the three of us.”

  Something akin to relief coursed through Dearing. “I’m a lucky man,” he assured himself more than Lord Notley.

  “Lucky to be leaving with your teeth, Dearing. Keep that it mind when you tell my daughter the truth of it all.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Undiscovered and confident, Charlotte closed the door to Dearing’s study behind her with a decisive click. That in itself was an unexpected boon. Had her husband left in a rush and therefore left the lock unsecured? Or had Mrs. Hubbles recently visited to stir the fire and then, called away, left the door open? Charlotte didn’t know and didn’t care. Answers lie within the room. Of that she was certain. She’d not waste time with unresolved riddles.

  She began with his desk, its orderly appearance daunting at first glance. Would he recognize if she left a paper a hairbreadth to the left? With precise accuracy, she sifted through each portfolio atop the blotter. Ledger sheets, contracts and assorted legal documents looked little more than gibberish to her untrained eye. She moved next to the drawers, the two side compartments organized alphabetically and otherwise fruitless, although she did locate the railway certificate to which her father referred. She took a moment to peruse its contents. From the attached letter, it appeared Dearing held controlling interest in an incredibly profitable enterprise. If she ever disbelieved her husband’s shrewd financial acumen, this served as proof to eviscerate doubt.

  She withdrew the true certificate from her skirt pocket and compared the two. Her father had spoken accurately. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to ascertain which stock document was authentic, which a duplicate.

  Had Dearing specifically asked for this share as payment for the debt he’d incurred on her father’s behalf? He couldn’t have sought her out particularly to gain the Middleton share, could he? Was the investment his main objective or had he truly wished to be her husband?

  A rare form of panic seized the breath in her lungs, alarm combined of fear, love and desperation. Her thoughts splintered into too many questions to consider. Could he have acted with malice and calculation? She forced herself to draw air. Dearing’s business skill was his pride. To possess the power afforded by the Middleton share set his regard above most others. But was she a way to a means and nothing more than a path to controlling the largest railway enterprise in England? Her heart pounded so loudly the sound reverberated in her ears.

  No.

  She refused to believe Jeremy would take advantage of her family’s unexpected penury for his own gain. As stated by her father, and proved by Jeremy recently, he wanted her, not a share of railway stock. Wasn’t that true? She drew in a gasp and considered the idea more closely. Her husband had proved to be many things, but he was not so cold, devious and deceitful as to manipulate people’s lives for his profit. She rejected the notion and would not be part of yet another deceptive maneuver.

  Careful not to confuse the papers, she took the false document to the firebox and without a second thought thrust it into the flames. The foolscap caught and burned to ash within two beats of her heart. Unwilling to consider her actions further, she returned to Dearing’s desk and replaced his folder with care, the genuine certificate folded neatly inside. Then she closed the drawer slowly, so as not to disturb the inkwell or quill atop the blotter, nor the silver letter opener angled across the corner of a thin folder. She drew another breath and stepped backward, as if a separation could calm the frenetic racing of her nerves. Now everything was back the w
ay it should be.

  Across the room, she eyed the walnut bookcases, stalwart and looming, at each side of the windows. Dare she continue her investigation? If there was more to uncover, she would know it now. A confrontation like the one brewing would be served best by airing all misdeeds, wouldn’t it?

  Still she remained motionless, the tick of the regulator clock over the mantelpiece calming her by degree. She should leave now and go upstairs. What if she discovered something truly despicable? How would she continue? Indecision stalled her a moment longer until, on silent slippers, she crossed the rug.

  Several tabletops were littered with maps and their necessary wrappings. A satinwood table near the window held a glass pot where a modest Athyrium fern struggled to drink in sunlight. The contrast of green foliage to the piles of lifeless paper proved ironic, the spiny fronds kept alive by Mrs. Hubbles’s efforts, most likely.

  What was she doing? What did she hope to find and why was her heart poised for disappointment? She swallowed past the emotion in her throat. Was her behavior foolish? An excuse to place blame for the problems in her relationship somewhere else and not with her person? Emotion and intelligence waged war on her actions.

  A strong beat of helplessness, hopelessness, gripped her, and she sank against the side of a bookcase, all at once defeated. What did she mean to prove? That her marriage was nothing more than a sham? Her emotions unimportant? Her future desolate and unfulfilled?

  No. She refused to allow unsubstantiated suspicions to take hold. So much had come to pass in so little time, her heart squeezed with regret. Had she truly believed she would uncover the source of Dearing’s contrary composition, or had she hoped to affirm somehow, through the contents of his sacred study, that he in fact cared for her? One couldn’t prove another’s devotion by the method she’d chosen. Would she remain in a loveless marriage or find her way to the loving marriage she desired? She remained hopeful.