The other one, about a year and half old, had been born after Arthur died, and his mother held him close.
Today was the day she was supposed to get the children.
Looking at either of them could bring tears to her eyes, so she kept her gaze firmly on the expression of their mother.
“I don’t know. It’s a hard decision.”
“But the decision has been made,” Char said.
“I don’t know. Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”
Char pressed her hand against her stomach where her stays dug in and made it difficult to breathe. “You don’t know? Miss Toddy, for a year and half you’ve told me you don’t have the ability to care for Arthur’s children. I’ve supported you, believing it when you said you wanted me to have them.”
“I know what I said.”
“Is it about the money? You want more?”
“They’re my babies. I’m sorry.”
“When you came to me, you listed all of the reasons it was a good idea for me to raise them. All those reasons are still valid. And as they grow, there will be even more reasons. Their continued good health, their education, a place in society.”
“Bastards don’t have a place.”
“They could. Only you can decide.”
They were two beautiful little boys. Children who would never inherit their father’s title. She’d found out about them after Arthur’s death. The ledgers clearly showed the support payments to his mistress and her child, whom he’d obviously not disavowed. Char didn’t know if he was aware he’d fathered another child before he died.
When Miss Toddy, heavy with child, arrived at her door one afternoon while Char still lived at Dunlevee House, she hadn’t been surprised.
The real surprise was what she had asked of Char.
And in all the deliberation afterward, it had been Papa who’d offered the best advice. “You’ll remarry someday, Char, but you’ll always have a heart for Arthur’s children. Can you live knowing they could have had a better life with you? Can you live knowing what is likely to happen if you don’t take them in?”
What should she do now? Miss Toddy had promised. Was it all a ruse to obtain continued support from Char, since Arthur was gone?
She’d scoffed at the idea to begin with, but once she’d seen the new babe and the toddler, once she’d seen Arthur in them, the conflicting emotions nearly tore her heart out.
Now it was happening all over again.
“Please. Please don’t do this.” The tears filled her eyes, until one large drop tumbled over her cheek. She wiped at it and tried to find her voice. “Should I have the family solicitor speak with you?” It was a slight hope, a legal authority who might dissuade her from this folly. A desperate measure.
“I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry, Lady Dunlevee.”
“Do you mind if I visit on occasion? I promise I will not be a nuisance.”
“No. It won’t be good for the boys. Or for you.”
“Of course. You are right.”
Char pushed to her feet. She’d patiently waited for over a year and half, thinking today she would be taking the children home, not here in London, but with Mama and Papa, who’d both accepted the idea. A nurse had been hired, a room prepared.
Miss Toddy stood, holding baby David over one shoulder and patting his back.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” How could she walk out the door? All these months of waiting, the exuberance, the despair, the secrecy?
The trickery and deceit.
Char stared at Miss Toddy. Jane. She was a pretty girl. It was easy to understand Arthur’s attraction, but she did not understand his betrayal. Char believed she’d been a good wife, offering as much or more than many titled ladies.
Only a woman who had been rejected by her husband could understand Char’s true feelings. How horrible it was to be rejected for reasons Arthur had never bothered to explain. She never wanted to experience such anguish again. She’d examined their marriage, she’d judged her actions and thoughts and attractiveness only to come up with one thing: It wasn’t about her.
“Did you love Arthur?” Char asked. Maybe that answer was the most important one.
“He loved me,” she said.
* * * * *
To Joshua’s mind, the Forresters’ reputation had grown disproportionately to a few unsavory events from their past, now long forgotten. The Forresters were, in fact, gentlemen.
So when a gentleman proposed marriage, he was subject to the woman’s wishes in the matter, unless he withdrew the offer and proved himself a first rate cad.
He had not stopped thinking about her, and those thoughts were all very pleasant indeed.
So why did he feel like a complete bounder?
Maybe because she was right. It was a shoddy, ill-conceived request unbecoming of a lady. Of course, he would make a proper request to her parents, and soon, which meant a trip to Long Leaf and the adjoining Taylor estate. Squire Taylor had always been an amendable neighbor and an industrious landlord, but Joshua had not seen him in years. What would he think of a sudden betrothal?
So why had Joshua done it?
He did not particularly cherish bachelorhood, but the alternative seemed so interminable. Permanency with Char Dunlevee had all sorts of appeal, though. Had his being alone all these years finally asserted itself? Had his cold heart finally cracked? Kisses such as the one he had shared with her had warmed more than the cockles of his heart.
He had only gone to Lady Beckham’s to hand over a written apology. He might have been as dazed as she had been by the unscripted declaration. He held back a smile. Hadn’t their kiss been unscripted also? Yet, he did not regret the kiss, or quite frankly, the proposal, only how he’d made the request.
But first things first. There was one impediment, and he meant to rectify the matter today. Tuesday. At DuChamp’s salon.
He hurried up the marble steps and the first person he met was Ward Sutherland, standing next to a large clock with a loud second hand.
“Couldn’t resist, I see,” Ward said.
“We men are such weak creatures.” Joshua would have winked and nodded at such behavior before. Before he knew a lady such as Char had been trapped. Or disillusioned. Or whatever it was that had ultimately influenced her decision.
Ward and a few others went into the main room to take their seats. Joshua lagged behind, glanced at his pocket watch and then disappeared down the hallway outside the studio. Each tick of the clock sounded as if it were his own heart.
He envisioned the inside of the interior room, realizing the hallway continued on, making a sharp left turn. And there was the private entrance. The undressing room. Even better, further on was a private way outside.
The dressing room door was closed. Of course.
He’d given no real thought to his next actions or what this would mean for Char. She would be angry and embarrassed, but as he must, he would keep the secret between them. Whatever shame he caused by this action must be kept to a minimum.
The sound of additional participants echoed down the hallway. Surely the room was full by now. He peeked around the corner one last time to assure he was alone.
He gripped the doorknob and attempted to push into the room. There was an impediment. A body. A gasp. He eased the force of his entry but still pushed his way into the room.
There was another squeal as Jenny Taylor, naked as the day she was born, grabbed for a red satin robe.
Kat Taylor jumped to her feet, eyes round with fear.
And Primrose, lips pressed together with her arms at her side, gripped a dress. Presumably the one Jenny had just removed.
Joshua stared at each in turn, finally finding words. “For the love of… Put your clothes on,” he said sharply. He could see her bare limbs, the robe only hiding her womanly bits.
“What are you doing here?” Kat demanded. The feisty little bitch.
“Saving your reputation.”
“Th
en get out and don’t say a word to anyone,” she snapped.
“Oh, I’ll say a word or two.” He glanced at Jenny. “Did I not tell you to dress?”
“You cannot tell me what to do,” Jenny answered, only her words were weak and fearful. He suspected her temporary courage was only possible because her sisters were present.
“You’re right. But I can throw you over my shoulder or, come to that, drag you out of here by your hair.”
“How dare you!” Prim sputtered.
“How dare I? It is my duty as a gentleman.”
“Tosh!” Kat said, reminding him of their Aunt Beckham—a flighty woman, he thought.
“Where is Lady Dunlevee?”
“Oh, she’s in Kent.” Kat was flip, an astounding accomplishment considering her sister was still mostly naked.
“Leaving you unchaperoned?” He pinned a hard look at Kat.
“We have each other.”
“The pot, the kettle and the cauldron. Lady Prim, don’t just stand there. Help her.”
All Jenny had done was move the robe to her chin. She would be the first one to cry. Prim did have the sense to reach for a lacy chemise. It would do for a start.
“No one was supposed to know.” She glanced from Joshua to Kat and back again.
“In five minutes, DuChamp is going to want his model. We will be long gone by then, but first, one of you is going to explain this farce to me. Kat?” Oh, he knew who the troublemaker was. How could he have imagined it was Lady Char? He grabbed Kat’s arm; she squeaked and made an attempt to get away. He hauled her closer and then swept a hand through her hair, revealing her left ear and a tidy little mole. So it was her!
But that didn’t explain Jenny.
He reached for Prim only to see the same sort of marking. And, gad, Jenny had one too. Glancing at her was the wrong thing to do, as she was just slipping into her chemise and it didn’t cover her fast enough.
“Did Kat force you to do this?”
“Force? It was a lark. And no one will ever know which one of us was the nude in the painting,” Kat said.
“It’s obvious to me.” He stared hard at Jenny. Embarrassment scalded every inch of her bare skin.
“Oh, is it?” Kat asked.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me each of you has taken a turn?”
Kat looked smug.
Prim had her back turned, trying to keep Jenny out of his sight. “It was a good plan, don’t you think?” Prim said, glancing over her shoulder.
“Does your sister know?” he asked.
“Char is too busy solving her own problems. I told her it was a bad idea, but would she listen? No. I knew her heart would be broken.”
“You giving advice. That’s rich,” he said to Kat. “Can you please hurry?” Was there another matter he would need to rescue Char from? The Taylors seemed to attract trouble.
“There’s no reason for us to leave. We only have a few more sittings before DuChamp finishes his masterpiece,” Kat said.
“Can we please go, Kat? I don’t want to do it again,” Jenny said.
“Finally, a voice of reason.” Joshua realized they were all shouting, but at a whisper level. “However, Mr. DuChamp has an excellent memory. As do all the men in the other room. They can all imagine how the painting will look completed. Shoes, Jenny?”
“Oh, yes.”
There was silence while she hurriedly tied her slippers. Well, his job would be easier since two of the three seemed willing and anxious to leave. Kat would be the one who would need a good hiding.
There was a light tap on the inner door. Time for Jenny to pose.
She glanced at him. Joshua saw that she did want his help, and after that, no amount of cajoling and flirting would get him to see the humorous side of this escapade.
“Let them knock.” He took Kat’s hand, knowing the other two were obedient little followers.
Once they were outside, it was a simple matter to hoist them into his carriage. They all sat together, shoulder to shoulder. Two of them had the shame to hang their heads.
“This is all so ridiculous,” Kat said.
“You do not get to speak. Now, is Lady Beckham home this afternoon?”
“No, she and Uncle went to Surrey this morning,” Prim said.
“They go every Tuesday,” Jenny added.
“Well then. We are going to Kent. I will let your father sort this out.”
Jenny started to cry first. Joshua handed over a handkerchief.
“Oh, please no,” Prim said. “He will never let us go to London again.”
“Don’t you think that is what you deserve?”
“You are so cruel. And to think Char wanted one of us to marry you,” Kat said.
Joshua could see Squire Taylor insisting that he marry one of his daughters, and not the one he had proposed to. He didn’t know which one he’d seen naked the first time, but this time, he’d clearly compromised Jenny’s reputation.
“So why did you do it?”
“Paul DuChamp. Do I need to say anything else?”
“Well, not to me. I expect your parents will require a better answer.”
Damn, that painting was going to cost him a pretty penny, even if it was incomplete.
And Kat was right. Who would know which one was in the painting? The Taylors were of similar build with golden hair. The woman posing was not only masked but turned away from the audience. Unless there was some betrayal of their secret who was going to find out?
And what about Char? Though he’d proposed for the wrong reason, that didn’t make his proposal any less sincere. Char. He did not have the luxury of thinking about her, not in the way he’d been allowing.
A sob burst from Prim. Kat put an arm about Prim’s shoulder and held her close.
“Cruel!” she said again.
“For some reason, I doubt your father and mother will be surprised when I explain who I suspect is the ringleader in this little rebellion.”
And with that final, crushing statement, Kat wailed. He thought she uttered a few more “mean, cruel and unfair” statements as she blubbered into her own handkerchief.
Would DuChamp forfeit the incomplete painting? He’d need to return to London soon to retrieve the evidence. And once destroyed, that would be that.
Char was in as much danger as her sisters. Who was to say she hadn’t also posed? Perhaps Char had a more mature, appealing body. But a gossip hell-bent on telling the latest news could easily assume Char was one of the culprits. Not a victim.
He hadn’t packed a valise. He was not going to stop and allow them to either. Who knew if he’d ever get them back in the carriage without scandalizing the entire household.
Three hours later the wailing had stopped. Prim and Jenny had offered him a few reconciling smiles, but Kat sat in the corner of the carriage with her arms crossed. The go-to-hell look she cast his way was enough to remind him how happy he was their father was still alive.
“Prim?” He had earned the right to call them by their given names, had he not? “What matter has upset Lady Dunlevee?”
“Oh, that awful man she was married to.”
“He had two gets with his mistress and she has no means to care for them.”
“So she thought to sell them to Char and Char was too soft-hearted to tell the deceitful paramour no.”
“Poor children. Char says they are adorable.”
“But they’re not Char’s responsibility.”
“It’s not the children’s fault. They shouldn’t have to pay for their mother’s mistakes.”
“Or their father’s.”
“Oh, don’t be daft. Children must pay for their parents’ sins all the time.”
Joshua glanced at each of them in turn as they forgot their woes, gossiping about their sister instead. He settled back, listening to the conversation. It turned out Arthur Dunlevee was an ass.
The Taylors seemed to have forgotten Joshua and the reason they were traveling in a
carriage together. After the much-discussed Dunlevee marriage, they proceeded to less controversial topics, so Joshua closed his eyes, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this mess.
He’d faced down three crying girls on the precipice of ruin. Was he ready to face two irate parents who might be willing to commit murder? And one shocked sister who might look at him with something other than somnolent desire?
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE WERE JUST TIMES when a woman needed her mother.
Crying for three hours, alone in the carriage, on the way home hadn’t helped.
A good night’s rest, in her own bed, hadn’t helped either. Her heart still ached.
“Drink up, dear. There is nothing so helpful as a hot cup of tea,” her mother said. She placed her wizened hand over one of Char’s. “Now, let’s hear all about this catastrophe. Do you know why she changed her mind?”
Mama’s hair was shot full of silver and grey, and never stayed in the neat bun with which she started the day. Her wrinkles were attractive and, Char thought, made her appear happy, especially those lines which crinkled when she laughed.
“I’m so obtuse. Why did I not see she only wanted money?”
“The decision could not have been easy. Especially for a mother? A woman abandoned and by such tragic circumstances?”
“What am I to do?”
“Honestly? I know it will not be easy, but perhaps you will have to abide by her wishes. You might have to forget them.”
A fresh burst of tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Mama, that seems like the hardest thing in the world right now.”
There was so much to say, but they were interrupted by noise from the foyer. Char dried her eyes. Mama remained sitting as Kat, Prim and Jenny tumbled into the room, followed by Joshua Forrester.
“Oh my! What have we here?” Mama asked. Char could not imagine why her sisters where home, not with the Season in full swing. That left Joshua Forrester’s appearance a complete mystery.
“Mama, it’s not my fault,” Jenny said, leaning to kiss Mama on her cheek.
“I’m sorry to intrude, Mrs. Taylor. Lady Dunlevee.” He bowed to them.
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 32