Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Bridget Barton

  “The real Lady Judith.”

  “I don’t understand, Mary. Are you speaking of my husband’s cousin?”

  “I am. Lady Judith was sold as a slave to the proprietors of the inn in Seville where she’d stayed with Charlotte while in Spain.”

  “Sold? How do you mean? Mary, this is all so, so much.”

  “I agree with you, Phoebe. But Lady Judith informed us that, well, she was given to the couple in lieu of the room fee. No actual money changed hands, but the deal was for Judith to be a house slave for the innkeeper.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Just before Charlotte, as Judith, arrived in London.”

  “I do believe Charlotte Evans to be crazy,” Phoebe blurted out, and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

  Mary giggled despite the depth of the conversation. “I believe you may be right, Phoebe.”

  “So. What now?”

  “There will be a trial. Charlotte will be tried on charges relating to what she’s done that can be proven. It cannot be proven that she killed the father of her child, even though it looks like she did. But your kidnap, impersonating Lady Judith, and her threats promise to keep her in prison for a good long time. At least that’s what Tom said.”

  “And Olivia? What’s to become of her?”

  “She acted under duress from Charlotte. She was threatened with death. Olivia was afraid of her. She will, of course, spend a little time in jail, but it really depends on you, Your Grace. Do you want to press charges?”

  Phoebe sighed. “No, I don’t. Olivia gave me the opportunity to escape by leaving the door to my cellar prison unlocked. She’s young and brash, but I don’t believe her to be a thief or a murderess. I don’t think she’s cut from that kind of cloth.”

  “What kind of cloth would you say she’s cut from, Phoebe? I mean she showed up at each of our weddings with the intention to alarm us or, at the very least, to make us extremely uncomfortable.”

  “Her act of being at each of our weddings was forced by Charlotte, I’ve no doubt. And Olivia’s behaviour at both was more akin to that of a sassy, naughty girl than anything. You know? La. Nasty schoolgirl behaviour. There was never any danger involved. No, I don’t want to press charges against her.”

  “You are a kinder woman than I, Phoebe.”

  “It’s not kindness, per se. You see, Olivia only wanted to be raised up, much as you had been. She was inspired by Charlotte, not realizing that what Charlotte was doing had far reaching and negative consequences. And she was afraid to leave the odd partnership they’d forged. Charlotte had actually threatened her with murder on more than one occasion.”

  “No! I suppose that sort of threat could get many to do a great deal of things they would never do otherwise.”

  “And Mary, Charlotte had given the task of my murder to Olivia. When Olivia told her she thought that was going too far, Charlotte told her she had to do it. Or she, herself, would be the next to die.”

  “I had no idea.” Mary clasped her hands together in front of her heart.

  “That was when Olivia got the idea to rescue me.”

  “And thank the Good Lord she did.

  Phoebe nodded. “Yes, and she not only saved my life. His Grace told me that Bruce, the current paramour of Charlotte, came very near to killing him. If it weren’t for Olivia, my husband would be dead.”

  “I’m thankful it all worked out as it did, Phoebe.” Mary assisted her out of the bathtub, and there was a knock at the door to the chamber. Mary went to answer it as Phoebe donned a chemise. Mary let Abigail into the room.

  “The doctor is here, Your Grace. His Grace would like to know if you’d prefer to stay in your chamber afterwards for some light supper. Or do you prefer to come down to the library?”

  “I will come down. Thank you, Abby. Are you well, dear? Let me look at you.”

  Abby walked into the room and over to Phoebe. “Oh la! Abby! That’s a frightful bump. And the bruises! What says the doctor about it?” She put a finger under Abby’s chin and tilted her face towards the light.

  “I am fine, Your Grace. I will appear somewhat unsightly for a few days, but then I’ll be good as new. Mrs Crabtree has made up an ointment that will aid in the healing.”

  “Oh, my dear, you do not look unsightly, but I insist that you take the next few days off. Rest, go riding, read. Whatever you’d like to do. But I won’t have you on your feet assisting me. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Your Grace, but who will assist you?”

  “You let me worry about that. I’ve just spent about twelve hours in a rat infested, cold and damp cellar. You need not worry about me, dear.”

  The young woman curtsied. “Thank you, Your Grace. Shall I send the doctor in?”

  “Yes, please.” Phoebe smiled and then turned to Mary. “What shall I wear to meet my husband’s cousin?”

  Chapter 21

  They sat in the drawing room, the ladies drinking wine and the men, brandy. Mary had sent over to Wimpole Street for her maid, Susan, who now serenaded them with her lovely piano playing. Little baby Robert slept peacefully in Jorge’s arms. Everyone was relaxing after a very tense day.

  “Uh, Your Graces, Duke and Duchess Atwater, my husband and I have a question for you.”

  “What is it, Lady Judith?” Phoebe smiled. “Cousin.”

  Lady Judith smiled back. “What is to become of this little child?”

  “I have promised Charlotte Evans that I will take care of his schooling and well-being.”

  “Well,” Judith looked at Jorge and smiled. “Jorge and I would like to adopt him.”

  Atwater sat forward. “That’s a huge responsibility, cousin. Are you sure?”

  Lady Judith looked at her husband and smiled sweetly.

  “We are very sure, Your Grace,” Jorge answered.

  “You see, Robert, I’m unable to have children of my own. This little darling has stolen both my husband’s heart and my own. Jorge’s family makes wine. We have no money worries. I would like to go to the jail and ask Charlotte Evans if she will sign a paper giving us complete custody of her son. And the guarantee to never contact him. Ever.”

  “It sounds like she and Jorge are sure about this, Robert.” Phoebe smiled.

  “Well, here, here, then. Let us have a toast. Terence, get a few bottles of the French bubbles my wife so enjoys, will you?” Atwater smiled back at Phoebe, and everyone began talking at once, laughing and joking, kissing on the cheeks and patting each other on the back.

  *******

  “But where am I to go?”

  The lieutenant shrugged. “Wherever you like, Miss McGowan. But the Duke and Duchess choose to press no charges against you. Your crimes have been cancelled out due to the fact that you saved the lives of the Duke and Duchess of Atwater.”

  “So I’m free to go?”

  “You are.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “My pleasure, Miss McGowan. Oh, and you may as well take this.” He handed her Charlotte’s frock. “It was taken from Charlotte Evans when she came in. She was given a prison smock to wear. And she will be wearing that smock for a long time.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, thank you again, Lieutenant.”

  Olivia walked out of the jail. She knew that Bruce and Charlotte would be incarcerated until their trials. Bruce was to be tried for kidnap and attempted murder of a member of the peerage. Charlotte was to be tried for kidnapping and intent to murder a member of the peerage.

  She sighed, realizing that she’d been given a new lease of life. But where to go? She headed to Covent Garden. It had been just a few hours since they’d been taken to the prison. She knew the room had not been let as Charlotte had secured it for the night.

  She entered the building. Young Smothers was asleep at the desk, and she quickly got past him. She headed up to the third floor. Once inside the room, she lit the lantern off the spill she pressed against an ember in the tiny fireplace. She looked around. C
harlotte’s belongings were still in the room. Well, she wouldn’t need them where she was going.

  She sat on the bed, her reticule open beside her. She began to go through Charlotte’s things. There were twenty gold sovereigns wrapped inside a chemise.

  Olivia remembered something. She went to the clothes press and removed Charlotte’s five frocks. In the hems of all, there was jewellery. Olivia slashed the seams and gasped.

  There was all manner of brooches made from emeralds, pink topazes, and diamonds. There were coral earrings and a brooch, and there were loose gems, with no settings. There was a veritable fortune. Charlotte must have stolen from every family she’d ever worked for.

  Olivia checked the dress the lieutenant had given her. Sure enough, the hem was loaded with even more jewellery. What to do? Olivia thought that for sure some of the jewellery or gems must belong to the real Lady Judith. Charlotte had lived in the woman’s house. In her chambers.

  There was nothing to do about it now. Olivia was exhausted. She lay on the bed and was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

  *******

  A few days later, Judith and Jorge prepared to go to the jail with little Robert. Judith’s heart was particularly soft when it came to women and their children.

  They pulled up to the prison building in a hired hackney. Jorge assisted his wife out of the carriage, and they went inside, Jorge holding the baby.

  Charlotte had been thinking long and hard about her crimes. She hadn’t killed Jacob, even though she knew that there were those who believed she had. However, since it could never be proven, she was to be charged only with the kidnap with intent to murder. No one knew about the side crimes of theft and working the deserted country roads at night as a highwayman. She smirked. She’d been mighty surprised the night she and her partner had attempted to rob a carriage only to find the Duke of Atwater and his party. She’d thought herself lucky, indeed, that he hadn’t recognized her voice.

  She knew that she’d be defending herself. She’d realized that one day she might be caught and in a position such as she was in. She reckoned the very least she would get in sentencing was a branded thumb. But when would that be? She could be in this place for months, possibly years before her defence would be heard.

  She’d decided to write a letter to the powers that be asking to be sent to the Colonies. The United States. She could start over there. She was still young, just twenty-three. No one would know her past. She could make up a new one. And she was very good at that.

  “Evans.” The sound of the guard’s voice tore her from her reverie.

  “Yes? What?”

  “You have visitors.”

  “No. There must be some mistake.”

  “You’re Charlotte Evans, are you not?”

  “I am. You know this.”

  “Well, you have visitors. Follow me.” He bound her hands behind her and shackled her ankles.

  They walked down a long corridor. Charlotte’s mind was racing. The only person she could figure it might be would be Jacob, and she prayed it wasn’t him. He would want to take the child.

  They entered a sort of sitting room, a table and chairs and some other chairs against a wall. There was a window high in the wall covered with bars.

  Charlotte looked up, and her breath caught. “Lady Judith.”

  Judith stood. “Hello, Charlotte. I don’t imagine you ever expected to see me again.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I have someone here to visit you. Jorge.”

  Jorge entered the room with little Robert.

  Charlotte went to the boy.

  “Mama.”

  “Oh yes, my darling. Mama loves you so much. More than anything. Please, always remember, darling. Mama loves Robert.” She smiled through tears then turned to Lady Judith.

  “Why do you do this? Why do you bring him here?”

  Lady Judith untied Charlotte’s hands and led her to a chair. Her husband brought the baby to Charlotte so she could hold him.

  “Charlotte, I, or we rather, would like to adopt Robert.”

  “Adopt? I don’t understand.”

  “If you sign this paper you give us all parental rights regarding your son. And we love him, Charlotte. He will have the finest of everything. We will take him back to our estate outside of Seville.”

  “But why? Why would you, of all people, want to adopt my child?”

  “Because I cannot have children. And because we can give him what his mother went to prison trying to give him.”

  “And you will take care of him? Always?”

  “We will. This is my husband, Jorge. We’ve made this decision together.”

  “Yes, I remember you,” Charlotte spoke to Jorge.

  “If you need a little time to think about it …”

  “No, Lady Judith. I need no time. I give you my son with my blessing. Where do I sign on the paper?”

  “Here.” Judith pointed to the line. “Your son will be Lord Robert when we are in England, Charlotte.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte whispered, “thank you, My Lady. Thank you.”

  “Well, that’s that, I suppose. Would you like a moment alone with him?”

  Charlotte made a stoic effort to stop the tears that rolled down her face. “No, My Lady, he is your son now.”

  Chapter 22

  Phoebe and Atwater were having breakfast, basking in the sense of normalcy that now rested over their home. One month had passed since the abduction, and Lady Judith had gone back to Seville.

  “What shall we do today, love?”

  “Oh, we could go for a ride in the park. Or perhaps a whist game with the Radcliffes. I’d very much like to have them over.”

  “Why I haven’t seen Tom in a fortnight. That’s a splendid idea, my love. I’ll send a note straight away.”

  “Wonderful. There’s something I want to share with them.”

  Atwater was writing his note and half listening. “Mm-hmmm.” He folded the note and gave it to Terence to hand off to Jimmy. “Yes, my love you have something to share with the Radcliffes.”

  “I do.” Phoebe had another sip of chocolate.

  Atwater gazed at her, enjoying the pert figure she presented in her morning dress, her hair in curls and tied up with a ribbon. “You know, my darling, sometimes you look so beautiful, I need to remind myself that you are, indeed, my very own wife.”

  Phoebe giggled. “Is that so, Your Grace?”

  “Yes it is, and I don’t think I could ever be happier than I am at this moment.”

  “What if I were to tell you something that, I believe, would add to the happiness of this moment?”

  “What could that possibly be?” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “What if I were to tell you, Your Grace …”

  The ringing of the bell at the front door interrupted their loving exchange.