The Deceptive Earl: Lady Charity Abernathy: A Regency Romance Novel

by Isabella Thorne

  “And, of course, your gentlemen,” Charity added. Patience promised that Reginald would pick them up at the Shalace townhouse and escort them to the party. Charity thought it nice that her friend had thought of her and offered to include her in their party, that she might not be forced to arrive alone, or worse, with her mother. Instead, her mother was off to play cards with Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Sullivan.

  “Charity! We are going to be late to tea,” Patience complained. “You know how Amelia is when we show up late. She will be in a temper all evening.”

  Charity huffed. “She will just have to be in a temper then,” Charity said. “I am not yet ready.”

  “Will you be ready directly?” Patience asked as she hovered over Charity’s shoulder.

  “No. I’m afraid not.” She had taken too much of the day moping, but her father’s words had upset her, and she wanted to wear one of the new hand painted combs. Jean was engaged to redo Charity’s hair. For that reason, her hair was still straight and loose down her back. There was no hurrying the hot iron and with the heat of the day, her curls were stubbornly insisting to go straight. Charity called over her shoulder, in a very unladylike way. “Go ahead without me, Patience. I will have Jean accompany me. It is not far, and I like the walking in the sun.” She supposed she did it just to spite her mother, but it was also kind for Jean. Charity knew that Jean was friends with some of Aunt Ebba’s servants and always appreciated the time to visit.

  “If you are sure. Please do not be too late,” Patience said, taking her leave of her friend and hurrying to the stairs. She paused and a light appeared in her eye. “I know! Why don’t I have Reginald come back for you,” Patience said clapping her hands together with the thought.

  “An excellent idea,” Charity said, even though she would have rather walked.

  Patience went downstairs to where Reginald was waiting to escort her and Charity to Aunt Ebba’s home, and left with him requesting that he come back for Charity.

  Charity stood up from Jean’s ministrations and took in her appearance. The leaves painted on the comb went wonderfully with her new dress. It was the palest blue in color. The sleeves were capped just over the curve of her shoulder and were made of the same gauzy overlay that stretched from the high waist down to the floor. She adored the dress, it was the height of fashion, and even Lavinia would approve. She pulled on the matching silk Spenser jacket which had a high neckline embroidered with tiny purple flowers, added some wristlet gloves, grabbed the matching parasol, and moved to the stairs.

  She paused at the top of the stairs when she noted that their butler was talking to someone standing in the doorway. Assuming it was Reginald, she moved quickly down the stairs, speaking as she descended, with Jean at her heels.

  “It is alright, Peters. Please show him in. Lady Beresford said that she would send him back. No doubt my mother just did not want me walking. Isn’t that right..?” She gasped suddenly as the figure stepped into the foyer more fully and Peters closed the door behind him. It was The Earl of Wentwell! Charity had to consciously close her mouth, because she was sure it gaped open.

  He bowed low to her and smiled as he stood up. She had not laid eyes upon him in several days, certainly not since before her refusal of Michael. His looks had improved in that time, if that were at all possible. His bearing seemed more straight, his confidence and charm a new level that she had yet to witness. It was as if he were prepared to charm a duchess and yet, here he stood in her foyer.

  “Indeed. It is unbecoming for a young woman to go strolling about without a proper escort. I am happy to oblige.”

  “Lord Wentwell… I… We…” Charity remembered her manners and she returned the bow with a slight curtsey of her own, the color flooding her neck and cheeks, unbidden her hand reached out to his and Lord Wentwell kissed her gloved hand in greeting.

  He stepped aside and offered his arm. “I would be delighted to escort you.”

  Charity hesitated another moment. He was being very proper, considering their last meeting. Had she not said to Amelia that she wished to apologize to the man? And she did wish it so, but how to get to the topic.

  Something inside of her thrilled at his arrival. He was here. He had not answered her letter, but he was here now. She was all jitters at the thought that he had come to see her, searched her out, and made the call. She could not really refuse him especially after just allowing Peters to invite him in... And she should not walk alone.

  She never got the chance to speak to the man after the disastrous afternoon with her father and the subsequent tongue lashing by her mother. Now she felt particularly tongue-tied, but she pressed on. The apology must be made.

  She looked at Jean who stood ready to walk with her. There was a coy grin on the maid’s face. Charity did not wish to consider that perhaps Jean knew Charity’s heart better than she knew herself. “Jean, I…”she began, but she did not need to say more. Jean grinned at her. “Enjoy your outing, my lady,” she said with a slight curtsey and a twinkle in her eye.

  Lady Charity’s heart was beating a fast tattoo. What should she say to him? Should she bring up the fact that he had not responded to her letter, or should she apologize again now that she was in person before him? Her mind was all a whirl. She found her fingers clutching her fan, and consciously loosened them before she broke another of the fragile objects.

  As the two stepped into the sunlight on the street, Charity let the fan drop to the ribbon around her wrist and opened her parasol. She lifted it over her head to shade her face from the heat of the sun. The Earl stepped up beside her with his arm bent ready for her to take. She hesitantly placed her hand on his arm and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow. They walked down the steps together and nothing ever felt so right, and yet they walked in silence. It seemed as if neither of them knew where to begin.

  “I received your letter,” he said at last.

  The silence stretched, but Charity could not call it awkward. She breathed in the scent of him, and reveled in the feel of his solid masculinity next to her. “I’m sorry I did not answer it,” he said.

  “I thought you did not accept my apology,” she blurted.

  “Of course I did.” He said. “I just…” he paused at the door of the carriage.

  Charity looked at the conveyance. “If you don’t mind, I would rather walk,” she said. “It is not far and it is a beautiful day.”

  He nodded and gave instructions to his driver and then took her arm again. A thrill went through her at his touch. Michael Poppy never made her feel this way, like she was floating on clouds. No one ever made her feel this way, only this man. Everything was right with the world. The birds were singing; the roses were blooming, the cobbles under her feet were smooth and perfect.

  “Yes, it is a beautiful day,” Lord Wentwell said. “Although the beauty of the day is out shown by the beauty at my side.”

  “You are too kind,” Charity answered automatically and then she clamped her mouth shut and the pair moved down along the street in awkward silence. Was he sincere, or was the compliment just a convention? Charity searched for a bit of conversation. Other than the weather, she was at a loss. Her stomach was in knots and her heart was racing. All Charity could think of was her sweating hands. She was glad she had gloves on. She wouldn’t want him to notice her most unladylike perspiration.

  “That is not what I meant to say,” Lord Wentwell said.

  She frowned at him. “You did not mean to complement me?”

  “No. I mean, yes. Of course, you are beautiful, but I say that…” He broke off.

  “To all the ladies,” she finished with a grin.

  He looked sheepish. “I do,” he said. “Or rather I did. I was going to say, so glibly, but I no longer want to speak so.”

  Charity scrunched up her face in a quizzical look and he explained. “I want to shower you with complements every day, Lady Charity, but only you.”

  “If that is true,” Charity said. “I do not understand
. Why did you not return an answer to my letter?’

  “I guess I was at a loss for words.”

  “You? I do not believe it,” She laughed gently, but he was suddenly serious.

  “I wanted to say something honest, and I found I did not know how to do that. I have always been full of artifice, but just this once, I wanted more.”

  “I have heard tell that it is honest artifice,” she said.

  “I wanted honesty, true honesty. I did not know how to begin. I still don’t. I have hope that you will teach me,” he said softly.

  Charity’s heart swelled in her chest. She realized what the difference was between him and all the other suitors. She was in love with him. She was in love with Lord Wentwell, and she was walking with him. Her heart began to sing. She never wanted this moment to end.

  They were about half way to Aunt Ebba’s townhome, and Charity was afraid that she would lose this moment with him, and he would disappear again. She groped for a common topic, another time when they could see one another.

  “Do you know the Atherton’s well?” She asked after a few moments. “Will you be invited to the wedding next week?”

  “I am,” he said. “But from the Beresford side.”

  “I still cannot believe the turmoil from last year. You knew The Duke, of course,” Charity said, feeling a bit more on solid ground, but realizing that she was not saying any of the things she wanted to say to him, and there may not easily be another chance.

  “Of course. Not personally, but through parliament. Terrible business that.” He shook his head. “I can hardly believe it. I do know the Beresfords though. Their riding master taught me to ride as a boy. Do you like riding, Lady Charity?”

  She was a passible rider. She was not sure she wanted to go riding with him. She wanted to be at her best, and that was not on horseback.

  Charity screwed up her face with the thought.

  “I love the way you get that quizzical look on your face,” he said.

  “Mother says it causes wrinkles.”

  “I shan’t mind,” Lord Wentwell said.

  Charity looked at him suddenly. Was he planning to be with her when she had wrinkles? She could not speak. She stopped in the road and looked at him. His green eyes were very dark and his hand warm on hers. He tightened his grip slightly, and Charity had the feeling if they were not in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, he might have kissed her. Instead he said, “I wish to call upon you.”

  “I would like that very much,” she replied, but her thoughts went to her mother, and the fact that the Countess had practically thrown Neville Collington from their house. Well, Charity would just have to figure something out. She would tell her mother she would truly be a spinster if she did not allow Lord Wentwell to call. That was it. It would be Wentwell or no one. While they stood there lost in one another, she noticed Lord Wentwell’s carriage had pulled up beside them on the road. It had pulled slightly in front of them and a servant in well-cut livery jumped from the carriage and ran up to the Earl.

  “My Lord,” he bowed low, and then stopped waiting to continue.

  Neville glanced at Charity and saw her interest in the young man. “Yes, Danvers. What is it? Why are you chasing me down in the street?”

  Danvers shifted from foot to foot clearly in distress over something. “Lord Wentwell, your mother begged me to find you in haste. It’s your brother…”

  Charity felt Neville’s arm tense beneath her hand, and she saw a muscle twitch in his neck and jawline. He glanced at her.

  “I apologize, Lady Charity, but I must insist on seeing to my brother.” He made a gesture toward his man. “Danvers shall see you to the party. I offer you the most sincere of apologies, but we must continue our stroll at a later date. I will call upon you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lady Charity said.

  Charity found that she was happy at his offer to court her, but inside her mind was screaming, No. She did not want the Earl to go so soon. This was not the way this conversation was supposed to go. They were supposed to speak. Now, it might be weeks or months before they could speak again with her mother so against his suit. She dug her heels in. She would not lose him again.

  ~.~

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Wait!” The word was out of Charity’s mouth before she thought what word should follow it.

  Lord Wentwell turned to her expectantly, and she stood tongue tied. Charity wondered briefly, what had happened? She was curious as to what cause would create such urgency. Was his brother hurt? Any of those questions would be rude in the extreme. She searched for another.

  “Is it far?” She asked.

  “No. Just up the way,” Lord Wentwell replied with a gesture.

  “Perhaps we shall make it a side trip. Then you might still see me to the party.” Charity offered. She would like to see where Lord Wentwell lived and, more than she cared to admit, catch a glimpse of his personal life, and they could continue the conversation in the comfort of the carriage or perhaps after he dealt with whatever problem his brother caused. It occurred to her that perhaps only his brother was in residence at his home. There would of course be servants, but that was not the same as a chaperone. “Would it be proper?” She asked.

  Lord Wentwell seemed surprised and pleased by her offer to come with him to his home. He nodded. “My mother is at the house, so there will be little room for scandal.”

  If she went with him, she could perhaps find out more about this enigmatic man, or she could be ruined. He was still considered quite the rake. She recalled the way he had treated her father and the care that he took with her reputation that day, and she knew she could trust this man. Anyway, she might not get another chance to speak with him. That decided her.

  “Then I will accompany you,” she said.

  Charity felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of joining Lord Wentwell on this adventure. He seemed worried and so she did her best to contain her pleasure. She wondered what it could be that would cause him to abandon his flirtation at just a word. Was his brother often in trouble? She would not ask, no matter how curious she was. It would be rude.

  Lord Wentwell helped Charity into the carriage. He climbed in and sat beside her.

  “I do apologize, and I beg your forgiveness for delaying your visit,” Lord Wentwell said.

  Charity was more intrigued than worried about her tardiness. Charity inclined her head politely. “Is something amiss? With your brother I mean?”

  Lord Wentwell looked at the concern and interest in Charity’s eyes. He didn’t answer at first, and Charity wondered if her question was too personal.

  “I do not know how much you know of my family. There have been rumors of course.”

  Charity remembered. Several years ago, there was some to do about the war and Edmund’s return from it. She was younger then, and the war seemed far away. She didn’t remember the details of the gossip, so she just shook her head. “If all gossip were true,” she said, “I would never have gotten into this carriage with you.”

  “Quite so,” he said. “In any case, my father expected my brother and me to join the military for a time and so he bought us each a commission.”

  “I did not know that,” Charity said. “So you were in the war?”

  “I was.” He did not elaborate, so she did not press him. She nodded. “Sounds like something my father would have wanted if he had had sons.”

  Lord Wentwell put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “We were separated of course. I was spared the true horrors of war. Edmund was not. When he came home, it was like he could not leave the war behind him. He startles sometimes and I think in his mind’s eye, he is back there. He has never been the same since. My mother can do nothing to calm him. He does not often recognize her during his spells.”

  “I see,” Charity said. She reached out and put a gloved hand on his and when the Earl turned to her, his face was grave.

  “There are times I think I h
ave lost my brother completely. Most days he is quite his old self. Then other days, he is exceedingly violent and is a horror to be around.”

  Charity felt chills move down her spine. She had not known. No one did as far as she was aware. What a horrible family secret, and now she was unwittingly part of it. She saw the concern in Lord Wentwell’s face. Whatever part of him was the roguish flirt was gone in the concern he had for his brother.

  “I understand,” Charity said. “My father is not violent, but you know there are days when he does not recognize me. It is painful.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and she felt his sincerity.

  “Has your brother hurt anyone?”

  His countenance darkened. “No, but of course that is always the fear. More often than not, he hurts himself.” He chanced a glance out the window as the carriage seemed to slow. “We are nearly there. I do apologize for getting you involved. I will leave you in the care of my mother if you do not object, while I calm my brother.”

  Charity nodded. She realized that in spite of what she once thought, she and Wentwell were decidedly alike, at least fate had given them similar crosses to bear. “I am sure I will be quite comfortable with your mother,” she said.

  Lord Wentwell allowed a smile to touch his lips. “I warn you, you are not like to be comfortable, Lady Charity. One day she is anxious for me to marry to secure the line and the next she is sure that no woman is worthy.”

  “One must excuse the love of a mother,” Charity said with a wry smile as she thought of her own difficulties with her mother. She felt even more of a kinship to the man beside her.

  The carriage stopped and Lord Wentwell hopped down offering her his hand to help her. Once they alighted from the carriage, he led her quickly inside and rushed across the grand entrance room to a parlor where an older woman sat in a plush chair with needlework on her lap. Charity stood by his side.

  “Mother! Forgive the intrusion. You know the Lady Charity Abernathy, of course. Would you please see to it that she is entertained while I see to Edmund?”