A Spinster for the Marquess (Rogues and Laces)

by Regina Darcy

  William snorted. “I doubt she would even look at you, Charles! I do not think you have to go to London, however, to find out about Lord Barker. Why not just go to one of the clubs? There is bound to be someone there.”

  Sighing, Charles shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. There will most likely be rumours and gossip as opposed to facts.” He turned to his brother, an inquiring look on his face. “I don’t suppose you’d enjoy Miss Theodora’s company tomorrow afternoon, would you? Maybe for a round of tea and cakes?”

  William’s eyes lit up at once. “You mean, to speak to her about her sister?”

  “I can think of nothing else,” Charles replied firmly. “She will know the truth, and you have more chance of getting it out of her than I do.”

  “You will be present, though?”

  “Of course!” Charles exclaimed, thinking that he would not miss that particular conversation for the world. “I know how interested you are in the girl, William, but I will not let you have her all to yourself at this particular stage.”

  William shot him a rueful glance, rolling his eyes a little before getting up from his chair in search of parchment. “I shall write to her this very moment so that she will receive my invitation first thing,” he declared, managing to locate the necessary implements. “Although, her sister might be a little surprised not to be invited along with her.”

  “I think she will find it something of a relief,” Charles replied sadly. “I have done her a great wrong, Markham, and somehow I must find a way to bring about some kind of reconciliation.”

  For a short time, there was nothing but the sound of a quill scratching over the paper. Charles watched his brother write, guilt still tearing at his soul.

  “All finished,” William declared, finishing his note with a great flourish. “I am sure you shall have your answers come the morrow, Charles. Then it will be up to you what to do with such knowledge.”

  “I should call that gentleman out,” Charles replied, as a rush of anger went through him over what he had seen. “If he was truly pressing his attentions onto Miss Cadogan, then he ought to be called out for such a thing. After all, Miss Cadogan has no one but her uncle to defend her, and he does not look as though he has a great deal of skill with the sword.”

  William nodded in agreement as he sanded his paper, glancing up at his brother. “I do not think Miss Cadogan would tell her uncle unless the worst happened,” he said, quietly. “From what she said to her sister, she does not want to trouble him or her aunt.”

  “She is too kind-hearted,” Charles muttered, running one hand through his hair. “Oh, how ill I have thought of her! I do not know if she will ever forgive me.”

  William laughed, breaking into Charles’s melancholy. “You are quite taken with Miss Cadogan, I believe.” He held up one hand, stopping Charles’s feeble protest. “You may disagree with me all you wish, but I can see under all those layers of defensiveness and anger. You care for her. You would not have been so angry if you did not.”

  Charles considered this, aware that he held a great depth of feeling for the lady that he had been trying to cover up, trying to hide it even from himself. “She is a very amiable young lady,” he replied eventually. “Fair of face and fair of heart.”

  His brother rose and came to sit opposite Charles, his expression sympathetic. “I am glad to hear you say such a thing, Charles. You have been alone and angry for far too long. What Miss Douglas did has damaged you, and for a time, I worried you would not recover. I am glad to see that Miss Cadogan is bringing about a healing that I thought would never come.”

  “Although that will not last if I cannot find her forgiveness,” Charles replied heavily. “I turned from her, William. I turned from her when she looked to me for help and aid. What must she think of me?” There was a pause. Agony coursed through his veins.

  What was a man, who did not serve as a shield for the woman he loved? Nothing but a wastrel and a good for nothing.

  No worse though, than a man who turned away from his beloved in her time of need. He felt an urge to punch something. Preferably himself over his own selfish stupidity.

  “You can do nothing but try, Charles,” his brother stated softly.

  “And try I will,” Charles replied steel lacing his voice. “You are quite right, William. I can do nothing else.” Determination written all over his face, he clenched his fists and walked out of the room.

  TEN

  Charlotte awoke the following morning with a terrible headache. After rising only to drink tea and have a piece of toast, she retreated back to her bed, her head pounding. It was difficult to get back to sleep since her head was filled with thoughts of what had happened. Funnily enough, it was Lord Astor’s betrayal that left her most bereft. Thankfully, after only a short time, she was able to drift back into oblivion.

  “Charlotte?”

  Struggling to lift her head from the pillow, her eyes still tightly closed, Charlotte let out a small groan as Theodora approached her.

  “Are you unwell?”

  “A headache,” Charlotte replied, her voice muffled by the pillow. “I will be quite well soon enough. I just need to rest.” Her headache seemed to be a great deal better already, and with another few hours of rest, Charlotte was quite sure it would be gone entirely.

  The mattress shifted as Theodora sat down next to her, putting one hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “I have been invited to Lord Markham’s home for tea.”

  “Today?” Charlotte could not help but open her eyes and gaze at her sister in astonishment, relieved that the drapes were still pulled tightly closed.

  “Yes, today,” Theodora replied quietly, her eyes filled with concern. “Do you think I should go?”

  Confused, Charlotte frowned. “Why would you not?”

  “After how Lord Astor treated you last evening and your concern for me and Lord Markham, I—”

  “Do not listen to anything I have to say about Lord Markham,” Charlotte interrupted, flopping back down on to the pillow. “I think I was quite wrong there, Theodora.” She watched with a little amusement as Theodora’s mouth fell open, astonishment in her expression. Clearly, her sister had not expected her to say anything of the sort!

  “I am delighted to hear you say such a thing,” Theodora admitted, shaking her head in surprise. “I would not have thought it of you, Charlotte.”

  “What a shame I was not proved wrong with regards to Lord Astor,” Charlotte whispered, tears pricking in her eyes as she allowed her gaze to drift away from Theodora. She would never tell her sister that she had kissed Lord Astor, but the fact that they had shared such an intimacy, only for him to turn his back on her when she needed him the most, had been proof that he was just as she suspected.

  “Mayhap there was some misunderstanding,” Theodora suggested, injecting a little bit of hope into her words. “You never know these things, Charlotte.”

  “No, I am quite sure the man is just as he appears,” Charlotte replied, as a single tear fell from her eye and landed on the pillow. “It is not as though he thinks well of you, Theodora!”

  “What do you mean?” Theodora asked at once, puzzled. “He has never said much to me at all.”

  Charlotte wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “He thinks you will not suit his brother because your feelings are fickle, that you are playing with Lord Markham whilst assessing if there are other gentlemen whom you might press your attentions on.”

  Much to her surprise, instead of being offended, Theodora laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling.

  “Goodness me!” she exclaimed, with a slight shake of her head. “Then Lord Astor does not know me particularly well at all!”

  “You are not insulted?” Charlotte asked in surprise, managing to lift her head and prop it up on one elbow.

  Theodora chuckled and shook her head again. “Not in the least. Why should I be? It is not Lord Astor’s favour that I seek.” A look of dawning realisation came over her face as
she stared down at Charlotte. “I see now that this is why he tried to pull me away from Lord Markham at the soiree they held! He thought that I would be flattered over his attentions, given that he holds the title.”

  Charlotte, who had tried to do much the same to Lord Markham, averted her eyes as shame filled her.

  “Indeed,” she replied quietly. “I think he meant to pull you away from his brother to prove what he thought about you.”

  “And he failed,” Theodora stated firmly. “If you must know the truth, Charlotte, I believe myself in love with Lord Markham and I believe he loves me too.”

  Charlotte, who had been expecting as much, gave her sister a gentle smile. “I am glad for you, Theodora, although I shall be sorry to lose you when the time comes.”

  Theodora’s eyes filled with sudden tears, although the smile on her face was beautiful.

  “I thank you, Charlotte. I do not know when he might propose, but I cannot help but hope it will be soon. Although, of course, I will be sorry to leave you.”

  “Oh, now!” Charlotte exclaimed, patting her sister’s hand. “From the way that man looks at you, I am quite sure he intends to make you his bride very soon.”

  “I do hope so,” Theodora murmured, glancing down at the letter from Lord Markham. She looked back at Charlotte with a slightly questioning expression.

  “I must ask, Charlotte dear—although you do not have to answer if you do not wish it—but do you care for Lord Astor?”

  Charlotte went cold all over. “Care for him?” she repeated, trying her best to appear nonchalant. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I have seen the way you look at him,” Theodora replied softly. “When you needed help you ran to him… In the silence that followed, Charlotte looked away.

  Theodora decided it was too early to press the issue.

  “So you would not mind if I went for tea?” she asked instead.

  “Not in the least,” Charlotte assured her, squeezing her hand gently. “I need to rest and will be quite all right without you. Do ensure you take your maid with you, however, or even Aunt, if she will go.”

  Theodora laughed. “Aunt is still in bed, Charlotte! She enjoyed herself a great deal last evening and has not even risen yet! No, I shall take the maid with me instead.”

  Charlotte smiled and put her head back down on the pillow. “Enjoy yourself then. And come and tell me everything once you have returned.”

  “I will,” Theodora promised, dropping a light kiss on Charlotte’s cheek before quitting the room.

  Charlotte tried to go straight back to sleep but found that her mind was too full of questions and thoughts to allow her to do so. She was, she had to admit, a little gutted that Theodora had been sent a note to invite her to tea whilst her invitation had been notably absent.

  Then again, after Lord Astor’s apparent distaste upon seeing her last night, she could not be surprised that she had not been asked to join Theodora.

  Over and over, Charlotte had run through what had happened last evening, trying to discover what had made Lord Astor behave so abhorrently, but she could not come up with anything. The man had not even looked at her, as though he had not been able to bring himself to settle his gaze on her face. Was he torn over what they had shared? To be sure, neither of them had mentioned their kiss in the gardens that had occurred some days ago now, but she had caught him watching her with a deep intensity in his eyes before she had tried to flee from Lord Barker. To go from that to being unable to look into her eyes was most disappointing and particularly confusing.

  “You are a silly girl, Charlotte,” she told herself sadly, tears beginning to seep from under her lids once more. She had allowed herself to be caught up with Lord Astor, to allow herself to think on him more than she ought, and it had proven to be an utterly foolish endeavour. Lord Astor was a marquess after all, which meant that he was probably more than able to steal kisses from whomever he chose without entangling his heart. She had just been the one he had set his gaze on for a time and, when she had turned to him, he had stepped away from her so that she would know he felt nothing for her. It was as if his lack of warmth was meant to dissuade her, was meant to push her away from him, so that she would not expect any more intimacies.

  “Well, he has done that,” she muttered to herself, brushing her eyes with her fingers. “He has done that very well indeed.”

  Her heart sank into her toes until Charlotte could do nothing but give in to the tears, her body racked with sobs. She had needed Lord Astor desperately, had cried out for his help in what had been a frightening situation, and he had literally turned his back on her. He was not the man she had hoped, the man she had thought might prove to be different from Lord Barker. It appeared she had been quite wrong in her estimation. How awful to realise, too late, that she had fallen for the man. She could not deny that love for him swelled in her heart, even though he had brought her such pain.

  What foolishness was this?

  Would she never learn to guard her heart?

  She wiped her tears away angrily. She did not need Lord Astor. She did not need any man.

  Taking a deep breath, she mulled over her situation. There was nought for it, she could not risk running into Lord Barker again. Charlotte silently vowed not to go out again into society until she could be sure the ogre of a man was not present. She touched her mouth with one finger, feeling the bruise he had inflicted on her. Lord Barker was cruel and callous and would do more than just bite her lip if he had the opportunity. That frightened her more than she could say. How grateful she had been that Theodora had seen her fear at once and had taken her to the carriage, returning to the ballroom to find their uncle and aunt.

  Her guardians had both been horrified to discover that Lord Barker was present. Her uncle, on hearing that the man had tried to push his attentions onto Charlotte, had attempted to turn the carriage around so that he could go in search of him in order to call him out or attempt to beat him—but Theodora and their aunt had been able to convince him otherwise. Lord Barker was a tall, strong gentleman, whereas her uncle was not in the first flush of youth! Charlotte had persuaded him to continue home, desperate to return to her room and to safety, and the anger in his eyes had slowly faded, although he had vowed to ensure Lord Barker left Bath with the utmost speed.

  Charlotte had appreciated his concern for her as well as his intentions but was not quite sure what her uncle intended to do to get rid of Lord Barker from Bath. However, she was more than happy to remain indoors until they were quite sure he was gone. It was not as though anyone would particularly miss her from society!

  Her heart clenched with pain as she thought of Lord Astor, remembering his gentle kiss and tender words. How quickly she had been taken in by him! Mayhap staying away from society for a time would be a good thing for her. It would give her a chance to heal, a chance to take stock of all that she had done and said. It would allow her heart to forget about Lord Astor entirely, for at the moment, it appeared desperate to cling on to him.

  “You must forget him, Charlotte,” she whispered to herself, her tears slowly abating. “You are better off alone.”

  Mayhap Theodora, once she was wed, would allow her to be her companion so that she need not worry about living on her uncle’s kindness. And, with that somewhat sad thought, Charlotte finally drifted back off to sleep.

  ELEVEN

  Charles paced back and forth, waiting for Miss Theodora to arrive. His brother, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in a chair by the pianoforte, looking quite at ease.

  “You need not look so worried,” William commented quietly. “She is not going to arrive any faster with all your pacing.”

  Charles’s mouth drew into a tight line, but he did not answer. William could not understand the worry and anxiety he felt. He was afraid that he was never going to be able to find a way to make amends with Miss Cadogan. But he had a desperate need to do so. His heart would not settle for anything else.

  “Once Miss The
odora tells us everything, you will know the truth once and for all,” William continued, as Charles stalked up and down the room. “It will be up to you what you do with that knowledge, I suppose.”

  “I must find a way to prove to her just how sorry I am, William,” Charles muttered, passing one hand through his hair. “I just do not quite know how to go about it.”

  “Visit her.”

  “She will probably not see me.”

  William frowned. “Then write to her.”

  “And she will throw my letter in the flames without so much as opening it,” Charles replied darkly. “And what am I to do then?”

  A heavy sigh emitted from William’s lips. “I do not know, brother, but you must stop all this pacing, for it is terribly annoying.”

  Charles threw himself into a chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. “I must know the truth about this Lord Barker,” he said firmly. “I hope Miss Theodora will be forthcoming at least.”

  “And mayhap she will be able to advise you on the best course of action with regards to her sister,” William suggested, helpfully.

  Biting his lip, Charles gave a terse nod. “I do hope so.”

  At that very moment, the door opened and the butler walked in to announce Miss Theodora Cadogan, and the two men rose to their feet immediately. Charles nodded to the butler to send up the tea tray, and the man disappeared almost at once.

  “Theodora,” William said warmly, as he stepped over towards her and took both her hands in his. “How good of you to come.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, Markham,” Miss Theodora replied, looking up into his face with a gentle smile. “I am glad to be here.”

  Charles, who noted the lack of formality between the two, gave Miss Theodora a stiff bow and waited until she was seated before resuming his own place.

  Theodora and William talked for a few minutes until the tea tray arrived, and soon the three of them were settled together. Charles did not even taste the tea, nor the small cake that he consumed, his eyes entirely fixed on Miss Theodora as question after question sat on his lips, begging to be spoken.