“How long till we reach Bath?” Beatrix asked quietly.
“It’s about a day and half trip. His grace has made arrangements for us to stay at an inn in Oxfordshire. We’ll stay there tonight, wake early and travel a little over half a day to Bath.” Carlotta used all her inner strength to pull herself together. These girls needed her; she’d not fail them over some weak and futile heartbreak.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t know better. She did know better, but that didn’t prevent it from hurting. She knew it was futile to further the overwhelming attraction that ignited between them whenever it pleased, but hearing it from his lips… it was a wretched dose of reality and still stung.
She never thought he’d break the rules of society and pursue her. She had more common sense than that, but she would have liked for him to. As futile as it was, she just couldn’t seem to communicate that information to her traitorous heart.
Her throat constricted as she remembered his words, but his expression spoke volumes more. His dancing blue eyes were cold, polite and distant, his words clipped and cool, and his posture ridged. Everything he said seemed at odds with his body language. And quite honestly, she didn’t know which to believe. His words were kind, gentle even as he was more honest than was necessary, but it didn’t remove the sting from the implications.
He wanted her gone.
For her good, but also for his. She couldn’t hold that against him. But it didn’t sit well, being so easily disregarded. Her first taste of romance and she had to go and find the most unattainable bachelor in the country.
It miserably aligned with the rest of her recent luck.
But she refused to dwell on it. As she glanced over to the girls, she resolved to leave it behind like the dust from London. Like the smoky and foul heavy air, she’d dismiss it and embrace the fresh air of the future. Who knew? Maybe this temporary heartbreak —because it was temporary, she’d see that it was!— would make her stronger, wiser. And maybe she’d fall in love with someone kind, fiercely attractive and available in Bath.
And she couldn’t forget Garden Gate. Being in Bath would be, in a way, like being home. She’d visited the city often as a child and with her home so close, she could hopefully see it.
The day was looking brighter all the time.
Beatrix was staring out the window, Bethanny was reading, and Berty had promptly fallen asleep and was leaning against Carlotta’s shoulder. Her heart might be bruised, but she’d make sure it wasn’t broken. And above all, she wasn’t alone.
Chapter Six
Charles tried not to watch the carriage pull away, but he couldn’t seem to pry his gaze away from the Blood Bays as they clipped down the street and out of sight.
He was doing the right thing.
Or so he tried to remind himself. He was being noble, honorable even, in sending her way.
Damn it all.
Of course, the time he decided to be honorable was with the only woman he could never have, the only woman he ever wanted so badly and the only woman he should probably never see again.
Life was never this complicated before. He closed his eyes, remembering her face, her scent, and the wide-eyed expression of wonder after the first time he kissed her.
She was gone. He sent her away. Could the day get any worse?
“Your grace? You have a caller. Lady Southridge,” Murray said.
Apparently, it can get worse.
“Ah yes. I’ve been expecting her. Show her in to the green salon, I’ll be there shortly.”
“Very good, your grace.” Murray bowed and left.
“Blast it all, Graham. You owe me,” he muttered under his breath as he left his study and walked down the hall towards the green salon. Better to get this over and through with.
“Lady Southridge! What a delight to see you!” Charles gave her his most charming grin.
“Your grace,” she responded, her eyes studying him in the most disconcerting manner. Charles always felt as if she saw through him, examining his very thoughts.
Heaven forbid.
Lady Southridge was one of the few people who wasn’t intimidated by him. She sat demurely on the settee, her posture perfect, her hair immaculate and her clothes impeccably fashionable. Few knew the iron will beneath the silk. But he did, and he was trying very hard not to be nervous.
Though Graham was several years younger than he, they had become fast friends, which led them into a few scrapes. All of which Lady Southridge had known about, lectured them over and promptly executed judgment. Charles’ parents weren’t alive to do so, so she took the role upon herself. She was really quite a maternal figure in Charles’ life as well, much as he reluctantly admitted. Which was why he was so apprehensive. For all intents and purposes, he felt like he was the brother taking the fall for the younger sibling.
“I’ll not keep you. I’m assuming you’ve been delegated to tell me of my brother’s recent retreat to Scotland?” She spoke with a bored tone.
“Why, yes. Did Graham tell you himself then?”
She gave him a withering glare that seemed to say, you can’t be serious.
“My brother wouldn’t tell me if he were leaving for China. That’s why I have to find out these things for myself, you know. By the way, how are your wards?”
“My wards? But—”
“I have my ways. Don’t worry your secret is safe. Lord knows how many secrets I’m keeping safe for you. I’ll simply add this one to the list.” She held up a gloved hand and seemed to study the leather, her brow creasing for a moment. She turned her gaze to him, a lack of patience quite clear in her expression.
“Well, they are in Bath, or on their way at the moment,” Charles said. After answering, he had the overwhelming urge to loosen his cravat.
“Bath? Why did you send them away? Hoydens are they?”
“No, not particularly at least. They are actually quite… nice…”
“Don’t choke on it, your grace.” She raised a delicate eyebrow.
“You can quit with the ‘your grace’s’ Lady Southridge.” Charles grew irritated.
She grinned. “Of course, Charles. But why? Why move them to Bath? Surely, the city has more diversion for them? What are their ages?”
“Bethanny is sixteen, Beatrix is twelve, and Berty is seven.”
“The oldest will need a season soon,” she remarked.
“Indeed.”
“I must object to your sending them away. As a young lady about to make her debut, she must be in London to learn some of the more intricate social graces. Of course her governess… you did hire a governess for the girls.” She narrowed her eyes. “And please tell me you were wiser than I’m anticipating and you hired an old woman.” She closed her eyes as if in silent prayer.
“Of course I hired a governess! I’m not daft! What do you think?” Charles shook his head and stomped to the fire, purposefully not answering her second question. Something about being in the presence of someone parental brought out the inner child of even a duke.
“Good. What’s her name?”
“Who?” Charles asked stubbornly. He didn’t want to think about her, not around Lady Southridge. She’d smell the smoke from the smoldering heat of desire still swirling within him.
“The governess.” She drew it out, likely thinking him daft.
Better daft than emotionally involved.
“Miss Carlotta Standhope.”
“Standhope? Any relation to the Standhopes of Garden Gate?” Lady Southridge’s tone was curious. “I thought Sinclair had a daughter named something similar. But I think they called her Lottie. I can’t be sure. Was quite a while ago. They both died you know. I wonder what happened to the girl. Hmm, she would be quite young.” She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts and Charles was happy to let her wander there however long she wanted.
Whatever it took to keep the attention off him and the blasted governess. Though he did sense an underlying reason for her question.
“Charles?
” she asked after a moment.
“I’m not sure who her relations are. I’ve only had her acquaintance for a short time.” But not nearly long enough, yet at the same time, far too long. A price he was paying for dearly.
“Ah.”
Charles refused to rise to her bait. She was only quiet for one reason; hoping someone would fill the silence and say more than they intended.
He’d fallen for that trap too many times, trying to fill the silence with an overplay of the story that was certainly fabricated in order to alleviate himself or Graham from responsibility or punishment. Usually both. Graham had learned the same lesson.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Lady Southridge commented, her eyes narrowing while she studied him.
“Not much to say,” Charles said, rocking on his heels.
“So when will you see the girls again?” Lady Southridge asked after a moment.
“I’m not quite sure. I hadn’t planned on seeing them at all, actually.”
“Charles! I’m disappointed in you! Surely, you were planning on seeing them shortly! These girls have no one save a governess and you’re their only family.”
“I’m sure Miss Lottie will take good care of them.”
“A governess is not a replacement for a guardian,” she shot back.
“Carlotta is perfectly able to—”
“Carlotta is it? My, my your quite familiar with that old crone of a governess.” Lady Southridge’s tone was overly pleased, like a cat sipping cream.
“She’s not an old crone! Miss Carlotta came on highest praise and the girls adore her. It’s simple as that.” Charles continued to watch the fire, unwilling to turn around lest Lady Southridge read his emotions all too clearly.
Of course, that didn’t stop her from rising and coming to stand beside him.
Bloody Hell.
“I think…” she began as she studied his face, “that next week we should go and visit your wards.”
“Excuse me?” Charles felt his eyes grow wide from both fear and hope. Fear because Lady Southridge used the word we, and anticipation because more than anything he wanted to see Carlotta. Just see her.
Not kiss her.
See. Her. Only.
“Yes. I think it’s a brilliant idea.”
“You would,” Charles muttered.
“I heard that,” Lady Southridge whispered.
“Of course you did. What about Lord Southridge? He’d not want you—”
“Pish and tosh! Of course he wouldn’t mind! He’s visiting Bristol that week anyway, I’d be closer to him in Bath than if I were to stay in London.”
“But—”
“You’re not going to get out of this Charles. Neither you nor Graham seem inclined to get married and produce an heir, therefore you both must be blamed for causing me to resort to adopting your wards. They’ll need a sponsor once they debut and I’m the best they can get. Lord knows I’ve earned the right to spoil three girls after putting up with you and Graham all these years. You honestly seek to deny me that?” She speared him with a daring gaze.
“No.” Because what else could he say?
“Delightful! I’ll make arrangements to leave for Bath in a week’s time.” She nodded and strode to the door.
“Of course,” Charles responded tightly as he bowed.
“And Charles?”
“Yes?”
“Please attend me in three day’s time at the Worthing ball. Lord Southridge is unable to attend and I need an escort.”
“A delight, my lady.” He responded with a clenched jaw, trying to be cordial when all he wanted was for the blasted woman to leave.
“Of course it is.” Her delicate eyebrow lifted in mirth as her green eyes danced.
She let herself out of the study, and Charles collapsed on a nearby chair, puffing out a great sigh. Lady Southridge was a force not to be reckoned with. Graham owed him. Owed him well.
But he couldn’t deny a swell of joy and anticipation in the prospect of seeing Carlotta in a week’s time. He tried to tell himself that he wouldn’t count the days… but he knew he would.
Now if he could only think of a way to get out of attending the Worthing ball.
****
Charles studied the whirling dancers in the middle of the ballroom at the Worthing ball three days later. He swirled the warm champagne in his glass and tried to not appear as bored as he was. He had already danced with Lady Worthing then retreated to one of the gaming rooms. That had proved tedious after a while, so he went to the edge of the ballroom and watched.
The debutantes were all in a pale green that seemed to be all the rage this season. He studiously avoided the corner where the dowagers and matchmaking mommas were in conspiracy against his fellow men. There was no way he’d walk into that dragon’s lair, but that didn’t stop them from sending him calculating glances or from sending their daughters from parading in front of him on the way to the refreshment table.
Never mind the refreshment table was on the other side of the ballroom.
“Your grace.” A velvety voice spoke just to his left. Without turning, he knew to whom the voice belonged. Lady Beckham was a merry widow who was known for her expensive taste and perusal of men.
“Lady Beckham. How are you this evening?” Charles spoke in his most seductive tone simply out of habit. He wasn’t looking for company that night, but that was a recent occurrence. His taste for the superficial had ended when he got a sampling of something much richer.
Of course, he had sent that temptation away to Bath… but that didn’t change the tone of his appetite.
“I’m doing marvelous. What a crush,” she said making light conversation.
“Indeed.” Charles acknowledged the truth. Indeed, it was a crush. People were lined up against every wall; the ballroom was filled as well as all the gaming rooms. Lord and Lady Worthing would be the source of all tomorrow’s gossip.
“You seemed so lonely over in this corner. I thought I’d cheer you up. Of course, I can do far more for you if you’d care to escort me somewhere more… private.” Her tone was laced with seduction and, a few weeks ago, Charles would have swept her off her feet and found the nearest balcony then taken his fill.
But that was before.
And right now, the last thing he wanted was a cheap imitation of what he knew to be real.
And completely unattainable.
“You do me a great compliment, Lady Beckham. But alas, I must stay close to Lady Southridge as I am her escort tonight.”
“Surely she won’t miss you for a moment or two,” she whispered.
“I’ll not risk her ire, my lady. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He nodded to her and took his leave, skirting the ballroom till he found Lady Southridge.
“Surviving the crush?” he asked, lowly next to her ear.
She turned and thumped him with her fan. “Don’t be impertinent. And never sneak up on a lady,” she scolded, but her eyes held a merry twinkle.
“Forgive my manners.”
She huffed. “That would imply you had them to begin with.”
“You wound me.”
“I do not. Lying is a sin, Charles.”
“I’m told I’ve committed a great many.” He nodded innocently.
“Save your flirting for your governess,” she retorted, her eyebrow rising slightly in challenge.
“What—”
“Don’t play with me, and don’t panic, for goodness sakes. I didn’t say it loud enough for anyone to hear. What do you take me for? Honestly, Charles. Relax.”
“I think it’s time to leave.”
“Scared?”
“Yes. Though you’re the only person I’d ever admit that to. And if you ever told a soul I’d deny it.”
“I saw Sara trying to hook you.”
“Lady Beckham? Yes well… she did not succeed.”
“I’m proud of you.” She nodded sagely.
“Why, Lady Southridge, I do believe that’s a first.” Charles
grinned teasingly.
“Don’t ruin it.”
“And our sentimental moment is over.”
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and order the carriage be brought about. I’m quite weary and wish to depart. One can only survive so many assaults on their intelligence when so many others are found severely lacking.”
“Your wish, my command.”
Charles left to notify the footman. In short order, they were heading off into the lamplight of Mayfair.
Yet all Charles could think of was how much longer he had to wait until they left for Bath.
****
Greenford Waters, the Duke of Clairmont’s estate in Bath, was beautiful and everything that Mrs. Pott promised. The gardens extended for miles, and past them was a wood complete with several fishing ponds and creeks. The girls could wander for days and not reach the end of the property. And the house, rather castle, was breathtaking. The large stone building had several wings that held a myriad of rooms and multiple ballrooms as well. There was a complete Nursery for the girls with a separate schoolroom that had a piano in the corner. Each girl had their own private chambers, but Carlotta noted that they usually spent the night all together, rotating rooms each night.
Life settled into a routine and Carlotta began to feel more like herself. The girls were disappointed that his grace hadn’t tried to contact them, or inquire about their welfare. Carlotta tried to allay their disappointment by reminding them just how important and busy their guardian was. In truth, she shouldered the blame herself, more than she cared to admit. After all, he admitted to sending them all away because of her. Did that imply that if she weren’t the girls’ governess that they would have been able to stay with the duke?
Yet as she looked through the leaded glass window at the back gardens, she found comfort in the truth that the girls were far better off in the country than in the stifling city. Originally from Norfolk, the girls had been begging to see the city of Bath, one of the largest in the country.
“Good morning, girls.” Carlotta spoke pleasantly to the young ladies as they sat to break their fast.
“Good morning,” they murmured collectively. Berty was stifling a yawn and Beatrix was gazing longingly out the window.
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