by Bree Wolf
When his father’s estate came into view, Charlotte was once more in possession of her faculties. Stone-faced, she allowed her husband to assist her down the step and out of the carriage.
“Welcome to Hartridge Hall,” he said, a soft smile on his face as he gazed down into her eyes. His hand closed over hers more tightly for the barest of seconds, stealing Charlotte’s breath and sending a shiver through her body.
Seeing the shock on her face, her husband immediately released her hand. “I apologise, my lady,” he mumbled, his eyes unable to meet hers. “Allow me to escort you inside.”
This time, he did not offer her his arm, but merely walked beside her as they climbed the few stairs leading up to the front doors. As they approached, they swung open, allowing them to enter a large hall.
A balding man stepped up to them, bowing his head. “Welcome back, Lord Huntly.”
“Thank you,” her husband said, a frown still drawing down his brows. “Please summon my parents to the drawing room.”
Although the butler looked mildly taken aback as his eyes darted to Charlotte, he nodded. “Certainly, my lord.”
Feeling herself tremble at what was to come, Charlotte clasped her hands together, once again doubting the wisdom of her decision to accept her husband’s proposal. What had she gotten herself into?
“Do not worry, my lady,” her husband whispered by her side, his head slightly bent forward in confidence. “You have nothing to fear from my father. I admit, he will be furious, but other than that he is no threat to you.” Holding her gaze, he nodded for emphasis. “I assure you I will always be by your side.”
A soft smile came to her lips as she stared at him, at the seriousness and devotion that lay in his eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her like that. Not since Kenneth.
Swallowing, she nodded, then lifted her hand, and although looking mildly surprised, her husband quickly offered her his arm. He drew in a deep breath as she hesitantly slid her arm through his; she could feel the strength he possessed like a shield around her. It had been a long time since she had felt safe. Not since Kenneth.
Acutely aware of the man by her side, Charlotte followed him across the hall and down the corridor into the drawing room. Everything around her reminded her of a life she had left behind a long time ago, and yet, a part of her felt as though she had finally come home.
Then the doors swung open, and a dignified woman, presumably her husband’s mother, walked in, arms wide as though wishing to embrace him. “I’m so glad that you’ve returned,” she beamed, joy marking her features as she approached her son.
As she beheld Charlotte, the woman stopped, a frown drawing down her brows. Her eyes darted to her son, a question resting in them, before she looked at Charlotte once more. “I apologise. I do not believe we have been introduced.”
Her husband smiled, and his arm tightened on hers ever so slightly. “Mother, may I pre−"
“What is this nonsense?” a booming voice echoed from the hall, interspersed by racking coughs. “If my son wishes to speak to me, he ought to come to me, not the other way around. I am not a bloody servant who can be summoned.” In the next instant, the door flew open, and in walked her husband’s father, his massive belly straining against his jacket as red spots rose on his neck and cheeks. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he dabbed a handkerchief to his face, eyes glaring at his son. “So, you have returned,” he snapped, wheezing as he stepped forward. “I hope you have come to your senses and−"
In that moment, his eyes fell on Charlotte, who sincerely wished the earth would open and swallow her whole. While her husband’s mother had seemed nice enough, although a little cold, his father glared at her with such open hostility that she could not help but cringe under his gaze.
“Who is this?” Lord Weston demanded, turning accusing eyes on his son. “What have you done now?”
A slow smile curled up the corners of her husband’s mouth. His eyes, however, had turned to stone, cold and calculating as she had never seen them. “This, dear Father, Mother, is Miss Lotte Ferris.” He drew out every word, slowly and menacingly. “Or at least she was until two days ago. Now, she is Lady Huntly, my wife.”
***
Sebastian barely registered the surprise on his mother’s face as his eyes were fixed on his father.
Standing before him, his father looked like the picture of waning health. While his head was already red from the exertion of walking to the drawing room, it now turned even darker, and his eyes snapped open as though he had just received a crippling blow to his midsection. Then his gaze narrowed, and a sly grin drew up the corners of his mouth. “Don’t even try to play me for a fool,” he snapped, his eyes shifting to his new daughter-in-law, disgust clearly visible in them. “Not even you would be dumb enough to marry a woman of no standing.”
A short laugh escaped Sebastian before he shook his head. “I assure you that I’m not jesting, Father. We were legally married two days ago in Gretna Green.” The grin vanished from his father’s face, replaced by a sudden paleness. “Would you like to see the marriage license?”
Beside him, Sebastian was barely aware that his wife’s arm trembled as her gaze shifted around the room, avoiding his father’s angry stare.
“You lie!” his father spat, and once again, his head turned as red as a tomato. With wild eyes, he took a step forward, gaze shifting back and forth between his son and his daughter-in-law, willing them to admit that it was indeed a lie. “You wouldn’t dare! You−"
“Of course, I would!” Sebastian snapped as all his bottled-up anger since he learnt of his sister’s marriage exploded within him, forcing its burning fire into every fibre of his being. “You married Victoria to the devil! You did not consult me when you chose her husband! Far from it! You tricked me and sent me out of the country, knowing she would be defenceless against you!” Shaking his head, Sebastian glared at his father. “Are you truly surprised that I would not consult you on who I marry? Do you truly believe that your counsel has any meaning to me?” Hands balled into fists, he leaned forward, then whispered, “I promised I’d make you regret your actions, did I not?”
With lips pressed into a thin line, his father stared at him as the muscles in his jaw convulsed. Hatred burned in his eyes as they slowly shifted back to his son’s wife. “You,” he snarled, his hands clenched by his sides. “You, Harlot,” he hissed, then suddenly stormed forward, hands raised as though wishing to strangle the woman presented to him as his son’s wife.
***
Terrified, Charlotte shrank back as her father-in-law came toward her like a raging bull, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. Never had she seen such unadulterated hatred, and the blood froze in her veins at the thought of what a life her husband and his sister must have endured, only able to turn to one another for comfort.
“Don’t you lay a hand on her!” her husband commanded, stepping into his father’s path. “I could not protect my sister, but I will protect my wife!”
An image of Kenneth flashed before Charlotte’s eyes as her husband did not hesitate to shield her from his father’s wrath. Tears stung her eyes, and a soft smile came to her features at the familiar feeling that had seized her heart so unexpectedly.
For so long she had been alone. Only able to depend on herself. Facing the world with no one by her side.
Now, there was … Sebastian.
Stopping in his tracks, the earl looked lost for a moment before his gaze focused on his son once more. Eyes locked, they stood facing one another, neither one uttering a word for what seemed like a small eternity.
Then the earl’s features revived, and the muscles in his jaw convulsed once more. “You’ll regret this,” he wheezed, one hand clutched to his chest. “For you’ve not only ruined me, but also yourself. Are you too much of a fool to see that?”
Sebastian snorted. “Do you truly believe I care about the family’s reputation?” he snarled. “I’d rather see my sister happily married tha
n suffering in a suitable marriage.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, the earl retreated, ragged breaths tearing from his lips. Then he turned around and stormed off. “You’ve doomed us all!”
Exhaling, Charlotte looked at her husband, who stood watching his father’s retreating form. His shoulders were tense and his eyes narrowed. However, a hint of relief rested on his features as he turned around to look at her. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice soft and caring as his eyes studied her face as though looking for injuries.
With her heart thudding in her chest at the sight of her husband’s tenderness, Charlotte nodded.
“Well, now you’ve done it, my son,” the countess whispered in hushed tones. Then she stepped forward, and her eyes travelled back and forth between Charlotte and her son, wondering, assessing. “Is it true?” she asked then, her gaze focused on her son. “Are you married?”
Her husband nodded. “We are. Does that shock you, Mother?”
“It does surprise me,” his mother admitted, a soft curl to her lips. “A part of me wondered if you would ever marry. For you seemed determined to spite your father and never give him the heir he desired. Your father feared that you would be the last of his line.”
Gritting his teeth, her husband nodded. “I did consider it,” he confessed before his eyes travelled to Charlotte. “But plans change.”
Watching them, the countess nodded, a faint sparkle in her eyes. “I’m glad they did for I do wish for you to be happy.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Well, then,” the countess said, turning to look at Charlotte. Reaching out, she took her hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. “For whatever it’s worth, welcome to the family.”
Chapter Sixteen – Extraordinary Women
Silence.
A looming, deafening silence hung over the breakfast table the next morning.
Seated next to her husband, Charlotte kept her gaze focused on the food on her plate or the tea cup in her hand, afraid to meet anyone’s eyes, especially her father-in-law’s.
Residing at the head of the table, he bore an expression that spoke of his hatred and disappointment at what his son had done to the family. Occasionally, he would glare in Sebastian’s direction, and his face would turn a darker shade of red. Then he would cough, reach for his cup and sip its contents, hands shaking.
His wife, on the other hand, seemed to be unaware of any kind of misgivings between her husband and her son. A passive, rather disinterested expression on her face, she buttered her muffin, sipped her tea and refrained from interacting with anyone at all.
Glancing at her husband, Charlotte wondered if this was a normal occurrence within the family. Were they used to such open hostility? Did it not pain them to be at war with one another?
With a sigh, Charlotte remembered her own family. Their meals had always been a pleasure. Laughing and chatting, they had shared their plans for the day over breakfast or discussed the events that had transpired that day over supper. Never had she felt unwelcome or unappreciated. She had always loved her parents dearly, and they’d loved her. Always had she considered herself lucky to be treasured by them.
Until one night had changed it all.
Clearly, her husband did not have any such expectations. On the contrary, he generally seemed to be expecting the worst and was rarely disappointed.
For a moment, Charlotte thought that he might be far luckier than she ever had been. For when her parents had finally turned against her, she could hardly believe it. Never would she have seen it coming. Their betrayal had hit her with such force that it had brought her to her knees, panting for breath.
What had remained intact of her heart and soul after Lord Northfield’s attack on her had crumbled into a million tiny pieces upon her parents’ breach of trust. She had lost herself that day, abandoned sanity, allowed her heart to retreat from the pain around her.
Until Kenneth.
He had been her saviour. And then he had died, and her heart had stopped caring.
Hand on his chest, her father-in-law turned red as another coughing fit shook his body. His family, however, remained still as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Clearly not expecting any support from them, the earl rose from the table and left the room.
The moment the door closed behind him, his wife came to life. “I have to say I am so delighted that you’re here,” she said, smiling at both. “I feared it would be another dreary Christmas, but now that you are here and Victoria is coming, I−”
“Victoria is coming?” her husband interrupted, his cup frozen halfway to his mouth.
Again, his mother smiled, then nodded. “I received a letter from her only last week.”
Taking a deep breath, Sebastian swallowed before the ghost of a smile came to his features. “When? For how long?” The tea cup met its saucer with a loud clink.
“I’m not entirely certain,” his mother said, a slight frown on her forehead as she tried to remember the contents of the letter. “She merely wrote that she planned on coming for Christmas. Surely, she will stay at least a fortnight.”
“I truly hope so,” Sebastian mumbled, eyes distant. Then he stopped, and his gaze narrowed, shifting back to his mother. “What about her husband?” he forced out through gritted teeth, and Charlotte could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Apparently, he has business in Town,” his mother said, “and is, therefore, unable to accompany her.”
Sebastian scoffed, “That’s a lie.”
“Quite obviously,” his mother mumbled, sipping her tea. “Nevertheless, it saves us from having to endure his presence in this house … especially over Christmas.”
Sebastian nodded. “That is indeed good news.”
After breakfast, her husband showed Charlotte around the estate. They started with the manor and then took a quick ride through the surrounding fields. The air was crisp and cold, but no snow was in sight. Instead, the landscape sparkled in the blinding sunshine, warming Charlotte’s cheeks. It was a splendid day, and Charlotte enjoyed being out in the fresh air.
For a long while they rode side by side, not speaking, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Charlotte turned to look at her husband, trying to understand the dark cloud that had settled on him ever since his mother had mentioned his sister’s impending visit. “You seem troubled,” she observed, and he flinched as though he had completely forgotten her presence. “Are you not happy that your sister will be visiting?”
Meeting her eyes, he sighed. “Yes, and, no,” he said, shoulders slumped. “I would love nothing more than to see her every day, and yet, seeing her in pain is simply …,” closing his eyes, he shook his head, “… is simply torture.” Again, he met her gaze. “If she’s not here, I can at least pretend that she is happy. I know I’m being selfish. After all, it is not I who was forced into a marriage with someone without scruples.” A soft smile came to his face as he guided his gelding closer to her. “I consider myself very fortunate in that regard.”
Taken aback by his bold statement, Charlotte averted her gaze as the breath caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes. When he remained silent, she swallowed and cleared her throat. “I look forward to meeting her,” she said, urging her mare onward. “After hearing so much about her, I must admit I’m curious.”
Catching up with her, her husband smiled. “I’m certain the two of you will be the best of friends before the year is out. After all, you two are the most extraordinary women I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
***
In the afternoon, Charlotte found herself aimlessly wandering around the manor. Her husband’s words echoed in her mind, and she could not deny the warmth that came to her heart when she remembered those piercing blue eyes looking into hers with such devotion.
Long ago, she had given up on the dream of marrying for love, of becoming a mother and having a family that was her pride and joy. And although her conscience f
orbade her from ever even contemplating such a possibility−after all what right did she have to happiness?−a tiny spark of hope had ignited in her heart that day. And no matter what she did, how reasonably she argued that it was not to be, she could not silence it.
“You seem distracted, my dear.”
Spinning around, Charlotte stared at her mother-in-law. Seated on the settee in the drawing room where they had first met, the countess worked a needle through a piece of fabric with skilled ease, her eyes barely glancing at the items in her hands.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte mumbled, glancing at her surroundings, unaware that she had ventured here. “I was … lost in thought.”
Her mother-in-law chuckled. “That much was obvious,” she said, her eyes narrowing−not unlike her son’s−looking closer. “The more interesting questions is: what thought distracted you so that you didn’t even notice me sitting here?”
Warmth rose to Charlotte’s cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze.
The countess laughed. “There’s no shame in that, my dear,” she observed. “After all, he’s your husband.”
Mortified, Charlotte was rooted to the spot. Clasping her hands together, she tried to think of an excuse to quit the room.
“Why don’t you come and join me?” the countess invited her, glancing at the armchair opposite her. “There’s only so many cushions a woman can embroider without losing her mind.” A sad chuckle echoed through the room. “Unfortunately, I passed that limit a while ago.”
Hearing the loneliness in her mother-in-law’s voice, Charlotte took the offered seat. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” the countess said, setting aside her needlework. “I admit I was very surprised when my son presented you as his wife. . However, I want you to know that I never felt any objections against you as my husband did. Despite your lack of pedigree, you have proved yourself a well-mannered and sensible young woman, and I believe you can make my son happy.” Holding Charlotte’s gaze, the countess nodded. “I hope you can believe me. Although I may not always have been the best mother, I do love my children and wish them nothing but happiness.”