There would be no escape. This was not London, where she could have relative freedom and exercise her own discretion. Or where she could escape from her husband's watchful eye and strictures any more than she had been able to escape her father's. In their sleepy little corner of the country miles from the cosmopolitan atmosphere of London, she would have to accept her narrow lot. She had just moved from being a firmly disciplined daughter to someone's obedient wife. Her father and the Duke had ignored her every word of protest, and had decided her whole future between them in an instant over a glass of sherry.
She had just exchanged one jail for another. As everyone drew around them to offer their congratulations, she could almost hear the prison gates clanging shut.
CHAPTER FOUR
The sound of prison gates clanging shut was ever-present in her mind as the preparations for her wedding go under way. Charlotte managed to get through the rest of her birthday party without disgracing herself, thanks to the Duke, her two cousins, and her father, but she was soon caught up in the whirlwind of licenses, clothes, gowns, and as hurried a trousseau as could be managed given such short notice. Only five days, in fact.
When Charlotte had braved the inner sanctum of her father's study to demand to know what all the hurry was, since no one knew of her failed elopement apart from the five of them, her father replied brusquely, "I'll be damned if any daughter of mine is going to produce a seven or eight month child."
Her mouth dropped open. When she could find her tongue again she protested, "Father, I give you my word, that's not possible."
"Aye, but only because I came in time to prevent it. The sooner you marry, the sooner the temptation to give in to your passions can be fulfilled, but in a respectable manner. As for your word, well, we all know what that's worth." He grimaced and fiddled with a few of his papers for several long, silent moments.
She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears.
"I only hope," he added, sitting forward in his high-backed oak chair, "that the Duke, er, Thomas, knows what he's doing marrying a little filly like you. You're most certainly not easily bridled, and are bound to be a handful. But then some men like a handful. You could do worse than have a good time in the marriage bed. All too often women let their men stray, with disastrous consequences for all concerned. If you, er, keep him in hand, dear, as you evidently have done thus far, you'll do well enough."
Her eyes grew round as saucers. "Really, Father, the birds and the bees, from you?"
"Well, why not? I'm sorry to shock your fine sensibilities with these country matters, but they're a fact of life and marriage that have to be faced. Better to know now than cope with an unfaithful husband, or worse, the dreaded French pox."
She threw her shoulders back and lifted her nose in the air. "I can assure you, that the Duke can do whatever he likes once we are wed. Most husbands of the Ton seem to anyway."
Her father's silver brows knit above faded blue eyes which had once been very much like her own until experience had hardened them. "I never did. No decent Christian man would. Not if he respected his wife, no matter what the circumstances. Your mother, God rest her soul, was always the best of women, but weak, delicate." He blushed. "It wasn't easy, but a proper gentleman does not take the primrose path of dalliance. There are always consequences, as any man of intelligence knows.
"But you will have no such difficulties, I'm sure. You are much more hearty and strong, a fine match for any man. If you give him the consideration which is his due, you will get it in return."
"I expect nothing of the Duke," she said haughtily.
Her father laughed then. "Just as well. If he too expects nothing of you, then you are obviously marrying for love. Ah, these young people and their ideals."
He actually smiled, causing Charlotte to stare at him. What on earth could her father be looking so pleased about?
He must be delighted that a scandal was so narrowly averted, she concluded, smoothing down the skirts of her navy blue day gown. But really, with the way he was carrying on, one would have thought that he was the happiest of men, without a care in the world.
But she had more things to worry about than her father's embarrassing and cryptic remarks. The most grandiose wedding preparations were now under way, and the only people helping her were, surprisingly, the Duke and his housekeeper, and Thomas' younger sister Elizabeth, a quiet but beautiful girl of fifteen with dark hair and green eyes very like her brother's.
She was looking forward to coming out when her brother permitted, she said, but did not seem to have any great sense of fashion and style considering her lofty rank, and dressed rather plainly for a woman of her vast wealth and station in life. Well, Thomas had said he was marrying her for her money. Perhaps it was to help his sister? she considered.
To her dismay, she found herself very much alone apart from the Elthams. Agnes, whom she had considered a close friend, had not returned any of her messages. Her Aunt Margaret had taken to her bed with a fit of the vapors. Evidently the shock of Charlotte's news had been too much for her.
Yet the vague feelings of disquiet which these desertions caused were as nothing compared with the overall lack of any company apart from her new relations.
She knew quite a few of the neighboring girls, but she had always cultivated a healthy rivalry in the hunt for beaux. Every one of them was fairly green with envy for her having been so clever as to catch the Duke of Ellesmere of all people.
Life simply was not fair. A title, riches, a handsome, virile young man of twenty-seven. Oh, it was just too bad.
She could imagine them saying all that and more, and she was almost tempted to agree with them. If she had to be forced into a marriage of convenience, she could have done a great deal worse. But the fact that it was his convenience, not hers, galled her.
So did his high-handed manner with regard to the wedding. It was to be held at the Duke's magnificent estate, Eltham Castle, for as he had pointed out, her own smaller house would not be able to accommodate the crush of guests to be expected even at such short notice. He would have to send invitations to every couple whose wedding he had attended, as would she.
"But I would have thought, given the circumstances, that a much more quiet and sedate affair would be in keeping with both your character and our predicament," she said the day after her birthday ball, as they sat together in his favorite snug wine-colored drawing room.
She was surrounded by ells of fabric, ready-made gowns, jewels, all manner of things which he had sent to nearby Bath for. The chamber resembled a dragon's treasure horde.
He shook his head, and explained patiently, as if to a small child, "There is no predicament. No whiff of scandal regarding the elopement will come to light."
"But the haste in itself is peculiar."
The Duke gave a tight smile. "I think I can manage the role of love-addled swain for one day, enough to convince everyone that I have done something so unfashionable as to fall in love with my wife."
She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Far better to just be truthful, that the marriage is a business arrangement between two families."
He shook his head mildly. "And expose my, er, circumstances, as you put them, to all and sundry? No, appearance is everything. We must keep them up on our wedding day if at no other time," he maintained.
Charlotte took a steadying breath, and ventured to say, "Well, that's just it. If you're in Queer Street, then why the show and expense? Surely my money would be put to better use in some other ways than one day of showiness and frivolity."
His brows raised. "What other ways did you have in mind, pray?"
Charlotte shrugged. "I don't know the extent of your predicament. I'm willing to learn, though. I shall try to be a good housekeeper and chatelaine of your household, if you'll teach me."
He stared at her. "Am I given to understand, then, that you do not like the gown, the jewels, the menus which have all been prepared?"
"No, not at all." She blushed. "That is t
o say, I like them very much indeed. But they are more than I ever could have expected or hoped for. The dress is so grand. Something much more simple which I already possess would do just as well, and the jewels, well... They are exquisite, of course, and you are to be complimented on your taste. However, they are luxuries which we can ill-afford. You can't eat them, clothe yourself with them, put a roof over your head with them."
He looked surprised at her commonsensical approach to what, in normal circumstances, she would have been all too delighted to possess.
"If, as you have led me to believe, you are now financially embarrassed, would it not be best to pay off any of your debts first, and put some money aside as dowries for your sisters?" she suggested in a mild tone. "I'm assuming it is they you seek to protect?"
"I only have one sister, and she is well provided for, thank you," he said curtly.
"Oh, I thought..." She drew her ebony brows together. "Never mind, I must have been mistaken. In any event, please do not be angry with me for speaking to you so frankly. Better to have some small embarrassment now, than a much greater one down the line. I'm trying to be a good and dutiful wife, Your Grace. Please don't think I'm thwarting you merely to be contrary, or that I'm displeased with your arrangements in any way. They are fit for a queen, and I'm just plain old Charlotte Castlemaine."
He smiled down at her, and she noted with a pang of desire how indescribably handsome he was when his cheeks dimpled like that. It was a pity smiles were so rarely seen upon his countenance.
He placed a warm hand on her shoulder, and she fought the impulse to flee. Or to melt into his arms. "Plain and old, never. It's good of you to try to worry about our family affairs. But the gown was my mother's, as were the jewels. Call me sentimental, but I would like to see my bride carry on some of our family traditions, at least."
"Surely your sisters..."
"Sister. One sister," he gritted out.
"I'm sorry. It was a slip of the tongue. Pray forgive my foolishness." She blushed and shook her head as if to clear it. "I was going to say, surely it should be your sister who would wear your mother's things."
"Elizabeth may when she decides to marry, but that will be a long time from now, God willing. So it must be you. It will be the first wedding in our family for many years. Thus the appropriate forms must be observed. And being a peer of the realm does come with certain obligations and duties."
"But the menus are so lavish, the wine..."
"From my cellars. The game from my estate. We are not quite, er, I believe the word was 'beggars'."
She blushed at the recollection, and smoothed the lap of her russet gown with trembling fingers. "No, not now that you have my dowry," she could not resist saying.
He cleared his throat and said with a sharp look, "I will never reproach you for your loose behavior that night, if you will not throw your fortune up in my face every minute of the day, or at least every time we have a disagreement."
She stared up at him, and felt tears spring to her eyes. "I cry your pardon. I was not trying to... Oh, what's the use."
She paced up and down in front of the fire, rubbing her arms to try to get warm. Then, emotionally spent, she threw herself down upon a little burgundy and cream-striped sofa and looked around hopelessly.
The charming decor soothed her as she sat and stared. In the end, she decided that he was right. Why make such a fuss? Everyone expected a grand show, her father most of all. It was pointless to keep battering at the bars of her cage.
And as she looked around the room, she began to see just how much his family meant to him, from the portraits, silhouettes, the workbasket which belonged to his sister, the pile of books they evidently shared and took pleasure in discussing.
It was not as grand as most of the downstairs chambers, but he said it was one of his favorite rooms in the vast mansion, the other being his magnificent library. He had told her to make free with the drawing room as a base of operations for the wedding. She had to admit that the more she got to know him, the more he seemed devoted to the people he cared about, generous and kind.
But Thomas was also clearly determined to get his own way, which inevitably led to their clashes. The trouble was, she decided, worrying a ragged nail with her even white teeth, he always seemed to best her in their spats, which only left her feeling more confused than before. And feeling so completely swept away by the force of his personality and magnetism that she ended up saying yes to him even when she was certain she categorically meant no.
How could she marry a man who threatened to take over her life so completely? What on earth was she to do?
CHAPTER FIVE
Charlotte was stunned at the extent to which the Duke of Ellesmere involved himself with the wedding preparations, leaving her scarcely a moment to herself, or a second of the day unoccupied.
She sure that Wellington in the Peninsula could not have matched the precision of Thomas's maneuvers. Everything was being planned by him, his sister, and his housekeeper, with an attention to detail which was as startling as it was alarming.
Why so much trouble and expense? And why was she so hesitant about accepting his kindness and largesse?
Perhaps because she disliked feeling such a fraud. She was worried about money, worried about sharing her future with a man who had proven himself more than unscrupulous, yet who in any other circumstance she might have found attractive, charming even. Handsome. Sensual.
By the beginning of the second day in his company, she did not find the thought so startling as it had been originally. She observed him carefully, trying to discover the mystery of why he had settled upon her of all people, when he could have undoubtedly secured a woman with a title as well as fortune with only a bit more trouble. He was certainly handsome and suave enough, and try as hard as she could, she could detect no discernable flaw. If she had not heard with his own lips that he was only marrying her for her fortune, she might have almost believed he cared about her, he was so kind and attentive.
She began to fear him as a cunning, inscrutable actor, displaying a facade to the entire world as he cornered her, pretending to be happy that she was marrying him.
His character puzzled her in the extreme, and try as she might to look for answers from the enigmatic Duke, the harder she sought, the more questions she had.
Perhaps it was true that people were different in the privacy of their own homes, compared to being abroad in company. But in the Duke's case, the former seemed to be his best face, not the latter. He was gentle and kind to his sister, and deferential toward the housekeeper Mrs. Jennings, though she was but a servant. She had even seen him hold the door open for the maids, when he could have had no inkling that she was watching him.
By comparison, her father and cousins paid no more attention to the presence of their servants than they would to a speck of dust.
In other circumstances she might have wondered if he was putting on a show for her benefit, but she had observed his many kindnesses to his household when he could have had no idea of her being near to observe.
Who, then, was the real Duke? If the man he had shown her the night of her thwarted elopement and birthday party was not the genuine Thomas Eltham, what on earth was he trying to conceal? And why?
She tried not to be nervous and on edge in the Duke's presence, but it was hard to subdue her confused thoughts. Charlotte wondered if she were losing her mind. The more time she spent at Eltham Castle, the more she began to question everything she had ever taken for granted, from her aunt's seeming care of her, to her own personality and deportment. The world which had made sense to her once was now irrevocably altered. She felt a stranger in a strange land.
With his sister, the Duke was as tender as any mother, let alone an aunt. He certainly would never permit her to elope, nor be indiscriminate in the friends she kept. He also seemed to find no fault with her for being a woman, and treated her like an equal in most respects except for her age.
Charlotte found hers
elf longing for him to care for her in so solicitous a manner, only to quash that thought as impossible, disloyal to Herbert, and foolish on her part. He already had enough power over her without her behaving like a schoolgirl whenever he was near. God help her if she ever came to love such a ruthless, calculating man.
Charlotte's sensation of utter confusion over her entire predicament was only exacerbated when the first of the Duke's guests for the wedding began to arrive. His special friend Clifford Stone and his wife Vanessa were a splendid couple, he tall and blond like an Adonis, she well formed and graceful, with a lovely head of auburn tresses.
They greeted the Duke and Elizabeth with a warmness and decided lack of deference which contrasted strongly with her father's stiff formality.
The clergyman who was to perform the ceremony, Jonathan Deveril, sandy-haired and handsome, arrived with the Stones, and they too hugged like brothers. The affection between them was obvious, though there was an odd restraint and sadness too when they were together with Elizabeth which she couldn't quite put her finger on.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 39