Charlotte

by Virginia Taylor

  “A fate to be desired,” said a cool voice. The kitchen doors swung slowly back and forth behind her husband.

  Nick’s dry wit surprised her. She laughed. “Certainly, for raisins,” she said, tilting her nose in mock reproof. She let the recipe book flop onto the black skirt of her riding outfit.

  With a flick of his head, he indicated her exit through the quivering doors. “I must speak to you, my fragile flower, if you can be spared from your kitchen recitals.” He gave Thomas a cold glance. “Now.”

  Charlotte slid off the table, her cheeks warming. “I don’t normally spend my time in the kitchen, but I found this recipe for Cook.” She nudged Cook’s back. “Cook, tell him I’m hardly ever here.”

  Hands on her ample hips, Cook turned and grinned at Nick. “Mistress is hardly ever here. Mrs. Wishart expects to have mistress’s orders for the kitchen relayed through her.”

  He lowered his eyebrows at poor Mrs. Wishart, a woman who’d had his best interests at heart since he was three years old, and made a sweeping motion with his arm that sent Charlotte scuttling ahead of him through the doorway.

  The echo of Cook’s merry laugh followed her along the passage, where she stopped, quite conscious of her less than spotless appearance. “Where would you like to speak to me?”

  “The drawing room will do for my purpose.”

  She brushed a quick palm across her mouth and cheeks, checking for food traces, and led the way. “I wanted to speak to you, too, but not, I think, in front of the others during luncheon.”

  In the drawing room, hunting, fishing, and shooting scenes hung on the walls. Various side tables stood crammed with ivory carvings of elephants, monkeys, snarling tigers, and writhing dragons. Two ornately mirrored credenzas sagged under the weight of a porcelain collection. Although Charlotte had been told not to interfere in Nick’s life, she’d been given so few rules that she wanted to obey at least one. She hoped that eventually she would be allowed to brighten the room. The chairs needed refreshing with a color other than the currently used dull pink velvet. The clutter oppressed her and closed her in. Most appalling were the fashionable stuffed birds in the glass-fronted cabinet. Turning away from the dead creatures, she took a seat in the curtained window nook, watching her husband expectantly.

  Hip propped against the back of an over-stuffed armchair, Nick crossed his legs at the ankle. “Don’t encourage Thomas. I know he’s handsome, but he gets enough attention from silly young females.”

  She averted her gaze from his powerful body, deciding to ignore his unwarranted reproof. He might think Thomas was handsome, but no one could be less interested in handsome young men than she. The only man who had ever made the slightest impression on her was her elusive husband. Thoughts of his recent kiss led her to clear her throat. Her voice slightly constrained, she said, “A certain amount of our mail is addressed to us jointly. I’ve been opening those I assume are invitations.”

  He nodded, tapping his hand impatiently on the chair.

  “One was an invitation to join Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorn for a regatta on the Torrens.”

  “From Tony and Nell?” He stiffened his pose. “If it were from anyone else, would we be having this conversation?”

  She stared at him, mystified.

  “You’ve been seeing Tony.”

  She blinked. “I can hardly avoid him. He rides in the park the same time as I.”

  “I want you to change that arrangement.”

  Her neck stiffened, and she folded her arms. “Then perhaps you could arrive home earlier in the mornings and tell him to ride elsewhere.”

  His lips curled with disdain. “You want me to confront him?”

  “Everyone knows you were forced to marry me. How do you think it looks when I ride with him while my new husband is entertaining himself elsewhere? I’m trying to shield you from gossip, not court more. If you and I ride together, or if we appear together at the regatta, we will eventually bury the gossip and appear to be a normal married couple.”

  He stared past her to the window. “I haven’t been to a regatta for years. It’s the sort of mundane event that I despise.”

  “So, should Sarah and I stay at home, too? Should the world know our marriage is a sham?”

  “The world doesn’t give a jot about our marriage. And this is not the subject I brought you here to discuss. I need the truth from you. Are you increasing?”

  She stared at him, half smiled at the absurdity, and glanced down at her waist. “I hope not.”

  His jaw firmed. “Breeding. Up the duff. With child. Expecting. In an interesting condition. Stop me when I use a word you understand. Knocked up. In a family way.”

  Her cheeks heated with annoyance. “I knew what you meant, but I’ve only been married for three weeks, and you haven’t… You know you haven’t…”

  “At the ball, you told me you were in trouble. You said it was because of Tony.”

  “And so it was.” She drew her eyebrows together. “I needed to marry, and he steered his brother away, which would naturally lead to others—”

  “You thought he might let you marry James?” He gave her an incredulous look. “James? Anyone but James, if you and Tony planned to go on.”

  “To go on?” She stared uncomprehendingly at him.

  “To think I would continue to countenance your relationship is reprehensible enough.” His face was rigid.

  “Reprehensible?” She put her fingers on her lips, suddenly grasping his allusion. “You thought I was expecting Tony’s baby? And you married me? I’m at a loss. Why would you do that?”

  He gave her a glance of disbelief. “Tony is married.”

  She stood, her hands loose and her mind a blank. “I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked. Amazed. No one—” Her voice cracked and started again as a whisper. “No one would have married me under those circumstances. And there I was, thinking we had made a bargain, while you were only being kind.”

  He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “So, you’re not increasing?”

  She slowly shook her head.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Seconds passed before he drew a long breath and focused on his shoe-tip. Finally, he straightened. “If you’re telling the truth... Nevertheless, you will stay away from Tony in future, and don’t bother with the wide-eyed, hurt look. You can’t fool me the way you have my father. He only gave you my mother’s diamonds because he thought I had feelings for you.”

  “And that’s what everyone is meant to think,” she said, not about to let him sidetrack his amazing act of generosity. “And must continue to think, because if you married me for such a selfless reason, I certainly must keep my word to you.”

  “Your word? Ah, yes. You promised to be my understanding wife.” For reasons unknown to her, he looked furious. He reached out and roughly grabbed her by one arm. Before she could react, he swung her in a tight embrace. “And I’m certain you will understand this.”

  He dropped his mouth over hers, his hands settling under her breasts. His body pressed hard up against hers. He was hot and big, and he smelled of the outside and the park and the wind. Her heart sped up. He shifted his thumbs and stroked her nipples. Her body arched into him. She fought to control her need to fling her arms around his neck. Not even a rush of conscience stopped her lips softening under his and her fingers sliding into his hair.

  After a breath-stopping few moments, she forced herself to turn her head aside. “No. You don’t need to do this. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  “Am I pretending?”

  “You don’t want me. You know you don’t. You only want to find out what being with a woman might be like.”

  “And why shouldn’t I, with my own wife?”

  She drew an astonished breath.

  “But of course I don’t need to do this.” His expression tight, he stepped back. “As you know, I find my pleasures elsewhere. You don’t honestly think I intended to mak
e love to you?”

  She stared at his beautiful stony face, her insides jumbled. “What else should I think when you touch me that way?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you would be better served if you decided on your own thoughts.”

  He strode off, leaving her standing with her arms hanging by her sides, staring after him, very much afraid that if he knew the depth of her physical attraction to him, his repulsion would keep him away from her forever.

  * * * *

  Disgusted by his interplay with his wife, Nick strode into Dixon’s through the paneled main hall and across the carpets of patterned red that dulled the sound of the male footsteps entering and leaving. The club had standards to maintain, discretion being the foremost.

  A waiter with the misshapen nose of an ex-boxer grinned at Nick as he ushered him to the dining area. The man paused resignedly when Nick took a bottle of wine from the racks on the way in.

  Nick spotted Luke, his red hair glowing in the midday light of the window, sitting alone like the perennial bachelor he claimed to be. Nick joined his friend. “Too early for you to have a drink with me?”

  “Take a seat. I have a client to see at two, so I’m in no rush.” Luke leaned back in his chair. Having attended Cambridge with Nick and Tony, Luke had been accepted to the bar in South Australia, the only one of the threesome to study law. He dressed like a solicitor in a dark cravat, a starched shiny collar, and a discreet jacket, not without style but perhaps without grace. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  Nick, dressed like a gentleman of leisure in checked trousers and a dull yellow waistcoat, examined the label on the bottle he had appropriated. “I’m a creature of habit. If I’m not here, I can be found at the racetrack, almost any inn, or a selected few sporting events. Even, sometimes, at a low boxing match. You could find me if you wanted me.”

  “How fortunate I don’t want you.” Luke half smiled.

  Nick turned to the hovering waiter. “Get me a corkscrew and a couple of glasses, Ned. And bring back a menu. I’ll be eating with Mr. Worthing.”

  The waiter nodded and left.

  “So, your wife got a filly of Blue Bobbin’s?” Luke unfolded his table napkin.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “It’s doing the rounds. Tony hasn’t passed on a good horse to anyone, previously.”

  “The horse was a wedding gift.”

  Luke examined Nick with unreadable brown eyes. “What did he give you for your coming of age?”

  The waiter returned, offered Nick a menu, opened the wine, and poured a glass for each man. Luke had already ordered. Nick made his choice and the man left.

  “He gave me the same as he gave you,” Nick said, taking a healthy gulp of his wine. And another. “A fob watch.”

  “Has he spent any more than tuppence on you at any other time?”

  “You know he hasn’t, and I don’t want to hear anything you might be insinuating. The Hawthorn family likes Charlotte, and rightly.”

  Luke nodded. “She’s a very lovely woman, and I’m not insinuating a thing. I’m simply letting you know how gossip is moving this story along. Tony is being connected with Charlotte.”

  Nick took another gulp. “No one could be less suited to him.”

  “And no one could be more suited to Tony than his wife. Tony wouldn’t do the dirty on Nell. No one with a sound head would, and I’m not casting aspersions on your beautiful wife.”

  “I’m glad to hear that chivalry is not dead.” Nick scrutinized his friend, but Luke sipped his drink with a nonchalant expression on his face. Nick swilled down his.

  “Will you be attending Nell’s picnic?”

  “At the regatta? I think I should be there to warn off the predators, and my wife appears to think she needs to be seen in my company.”

  “Seems reasonable enough. Another female has. Why not your wife?”

  “More gossip?”

  Luke lifted his fair eyebrows. “I saw you with my own eyes.”

  “Own eyes,” Nick repeated in a derisive tone. He had seen Tony and Charlotte together with his own eyes. Normally, Tony didn’t ride with any lady other than his wife. Tony had also warned his independently wealthy younger brother to keep away from Charlotte. And the gift of the lovely mare. Why that? The family kept most for their own breeding program.

  By the time Nick had finished his second glass of wine, he believed Charlotte was not carrying Tony’s child, but he still wouldn’t countenance her meeting her lover. Tony had invited Charlotte and Sarah, both comparative nobodies, to attend the Hawthorn’s pre-ball dinner, an event usually confined to family and close friends. That alone singled her out for gossip.

  By the third glass, Nick realized that Charlotte needed him as her cover more than he needed her for his. As a matter of fact, he didn’t need her for his. He was no more a sodomite than Luke, or any other of his cronies.

  Without a doubt, Charlotte had been willing to grant wifely favors to him because she wasn’t pregnant. Then, should she later find herself in a predicament, her husband would assume he was the father, which put Nick in a quandary. He had married Charlotte because he wanted her baby, who apparently didn’t yet exist, and then he had forbidden her to go to her lover again. Perhaps he should have left well enough alone. Not likely. He appeared to have developed a disturbingly possessive streak.

  He stifled a sigh and refilled his glass. Now that gossip had linked Charlotte to Tony, he had no choice but to put a stop to further talk. Inconvenient or not, he would have to attend the regatta.

  * * * *

  Much later, after a good pounding of the bag in Dixon’s lower rooms, Nick turned the key in the lock of the door of the so-called “other female,” Beth Blocker.

  Hands on her hips, Beth’s shapely form appeared in the doorway of the front room. Widowed four years ago and proven barren, she was the ideal mistress for Nick. She waited for him to enter the dimly lit passage of the comfortable house he rented for her in the city.

  “A new gown, my lovely? Is there any special reason for this finery or is your splendor meant to bamboozle me into paying for it?”

  “You paid for the gown weeks ago, Nicky,” she said, biting off her words. “Don’t try your tricks with me. You know very well we planned to go to the theater tonight. I expected you at six, and it’s almost eight now. The show starts in a half hour.”

  Lifting her chin, he planted a quick kiss on her pursed mouth. “I would be better entertained here.”

  “But I’ve been looking forward to going out.”

  “I’ll take you to Spenders later.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “What do you think?” He slid a thumb across her cheek.

  She flicked her head aside. “You are drunk.”

  “Not drunk enough to leave your lovely body unappreciated.”

  She put her fingers on his mouth. “I want to show off my new gown. Take me out, Nicky,” she said in a cajoling voice. She slid her hand to his abdomen and lower, smiling. “But keep this. I’ll need your appreciation later.”

  Few men saw Beth as a beauty, but her features appealed to Nick. Her body—firm, lithe, and amenable—was her greatest asset.

  He angled his hips against hers. “If that’s your best offer, perhaps I ought to go home.”

  She twisted in his grip. “Why did you marry her? You can’t love her. Oh, I know you want her, but I also know you haven’t had her. You let her tease you rigid, and you expect me to give you satisfaction. Until you married, you didn’t expect instant relief. We talked occasionally. We went out occasionally. These days, you’re barely in the door before you throw me on my back.”

  “Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

  “I’m not a whore. I’m your mistress.”

  He released his grip. Turning his back and trying to control his unexpected shakiness, he stared at a dark oil painting on the wall, wondering if he had paid for the g
loomy scene depicted by an untalented and apparently depressed artist.

  “Your wife is the subject of gossip,” she said, her tone hectoring.

  “My wife is none of your concern.”

  “I heard she was given a valuable racing horse by one of the richest men in the colony. I heard you let her keep it. Everyone is saying—”

  “I don’t care what everyone is saying.” He faced her. “I don’t want you repeating tales about my wife.”

  She tossed her head. “It’s clear that she doesn’t take care of you the way a wife should, and it makes me wonder why. You’re rich, exciting, and unavailable. The last would make you all the more attractive to a young lady. By wedding you, she would have impressed her friends. But instead of making certain of you, she is driving you away.”

  “Rich, exciting, and unavailable? That’s how you see me? Or more rich than exciting?” He smiled deliberately and, moving toward her, placed his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her into him.

  “I’m insane about you, Nicky. Insane.” She flung her arms around him. “But you don’t feel the same way about me.”

  “You don’t know how I feel about you.” He touched her lips with his. Once, twice, and she relaxed. When he settled his mouth against hers, she reacted with fervor, and he pressed her against the wall.

  He couldn’t wait; he didn’t intend to let his wife tease him. She had acquiesced to being taken, but if he had, she would resent him and rush all the more quickly to Tony. Whereas Beth wanted him, and until he ended his association with her, would accept no one else.

  Within a few seconds, Beth had lifted her skirts and twined her legs about his hips. He needed no urging. Beth was a woman his age who, although she might not always understand him, shared his hobbies, drinking, gambling, and rutting. With her cries of passion and her heels on his buttocks, she suited him and she satisfied him. Again and again.

  Chapter 6

  On the day of the regatta, the sun shone hot and high. The past week had been one of disappointment for Charlotte. Today she should be triumphant, side by side with her husband and presenting her cousin to society. Instead, she walked down the grassy banks of the Torrens River beside a man she hadn’t seen for days and whom not only appeared to despise her, but also seemed determined not to enjoy her company. She might understand his attitude had she been bearing a child, but she wasn’t, and in all likelihood never would.