Their conversation from the night before had haunted him long into the night, and even when he’d fallen asleep, his dreams had been of dead women floating in the Thames, their heads bobbing along beside them.
Charlotte had been so contemplative and so disturbed. It was almost as if she knew more about the murders than he did. Charlotte’s remarkable observations on humanity intrigued him, and he’d found himself mulling it over. Such scrutiny could open doors that had never been open before. Imagine being able to interview such a person who killed like that? Imagine the data one could collect in order to stop such behavior? It was remarkable. Earth shattering.
A carriage rolled behind him, shaking him from his thoughts. If he didn’t move he was going to be late to his appointment with the marquess after the man’s secretary had been so kind as to squeeze him in.
He climbed the steps, trepidation dogging his heels. This was a bad idea.
Marry Miss Morris.
The door was opened by an aging butler who silently took Jacob’s coat and hat and led him to what appeared to be the marquess’s panel-lined office. An immense oak desk faced the door with a tall leather chair perched behind it. Windows looked out over the back garden. The room was distinctly male, comfortable and well lived-in.
The butler withdrew, leaving Jacob to wander around on his own. There were no papers on the desk, nothing to indicate that the marquess used this room for business. Jacob had learned that Chadley was married and had two almost-grown sons who were a bit younger than Charlotte. So the title was secure.
Lady Chadley was well thought of in Society, and they were always invited to the best balls and dinners.
What Jacob did not know was what Chadley thought of his sister Harriet running away to marry far beneath her and what he thought of his niece.
The door opened behind him, and the man himself entered. A tall fellow, neatly trim, impeccably dressed with blond hair almost the same color as Charlotte’s.
“Lord Ashland.”
“Lord Chadley, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“I confess I was curious as to why the newest earl wanted to see me so desperately.”
“It’s a rather odd mission.”
“Now you have me very curious.” Chadley circled behind his desk and motioned for Jacob to sit in one of the chairs that faced it.
He looked natural behind that desk, and it made Jacob wonder if he would ever feel natural in his new role as earl.
“How does it feel?” Chadley asked as if reading Jacob’s mind. “Being an earl.”
“Unexpected. I’m still becoming accustomed to it.”
Chadley grinned. “There’s no getting used to it, trust me.”
“I need to find my way.”
“We all do. I had my father to guide me, but I still feel like a fish out of water.” Chadley rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “Now tell me what brings you here and how I can help?”
Jacob liked Chadley. He seemed a genuine character, and he made Jacob feel welcomed and an equal. Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
“I’ve come about Miss Charlotte Morris.”
There was a pause as if Chadley were running through a list of acquaintances trying to place a Miss Charlotte Morris, and then his brows furrowed.
“Harriet’s daughter?” he whispered.
Chapter Thirteen
“You did what?” Charlotte’s face lost all color when later that day Jacob told her he’d visited her uncle.
He hesitated before saying it again. “I visited Lord Chadley.”
“After I told you I didn’t want to talk to him?” There was more anger than hurt in her tone, which didn’t bode well for him.
“I know you said not to, but I couldn’t help but feel that we needed to explore—”
“We? We? There is no we, my lord. This is me. All me.”
“You asked me to help you—”
“To get to America.” Her voice was rising to an alarming level. “I asked you to help me get to America. I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life and talk to my mother’s family!”
“They’re your family, too.” He’d known she wouldn’t be happy, but he never thought she’d be furious. And there was no doubt that she was furious. Her eyes were dark and stormy, her arms locked at her side, and she was trembling. But good God, despite that, she was magnificent. Truly a sight to behold and he was drawn to this storm that was Charlotte.
“They are not my family. They weren’t there when my mother died. They weren’t there to help my father with a newborn daughter. They weren’t there when I was forced to live with my horrid aunt.”
“They—”
She held up her hand, and he shut his mouth. This was the Charlotte who had walked out of her aunt’s house into an unknown future. This was the Charlotte who had survived the rookery. “I don’t want to hear any more about them. They are nothing to me. How dare you?” she whispered. “How dare you go behind my back and do this to me.”
She’d taken his actions as a personal attack, and that was far from the truth. “I just wanted to help.”
“You can keep your help. I don’t need it.” She marched out of the room, and he followed her.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“I will go with you.”
She laughed, but it was a mirthless, cold, laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s getting dark. It’s not safe for you to be out there alone.”
She turned to him, and he inwardly winced at the naked anger in her eyes. “I think I’ve proven that I can take care of myself.”
“That was when you had a disguise. I know you’re angry with me, and that is fine, but don’t put yourself in danger.”
She hesitated, and her shoulders drooped as she passed a hand over her eyes. “I can’t believe you did that even after we discussed it and I told you I didn’t want them involved.”
“I just think Lord Chadley could be a valuable ally. He’s a powerful marquess, well liked in Society. And…” He hesitated, not knowing how much he should say or how far he could push her, but he wanted to her to know what he’d learned today.
“You may as well say it,” she said wearily. “I can see you’re dying to.”
“He wants to meet you, Charlotte. He wants to get to know you.”
“He told you that.” She didn’t look convinced, and he didn’t blame her. The Chadleys had done wrong by Harriet and by Charlotte and her father. So much needless suffering.
“Yes, he told me that. He’s not like your grandfather. He was truly shocked by the story I told him, and angry at your treatment at the hands of your aunt. He wants to do what is right.”
“He’s a few years too late, don’t you think?”
“I think he’s aware of that, but he wants to make it up to you.”
“He can’t make up for the last five years of hell that I lived with my aunt. He can’t make up for the fact that my father and I were cut off from any family for the entirety of my life. He can’t make anything up to my mother, who died knowing her family never forgave her.”
“He wants to at least try…with you.”
She considered him for a long time, her toe tapping on the hardwood floor, her eyes narrowed into angry slits of glittering blue sapphire, and her lips pressed together in a furious line.
“I’m not interested,” she finally said.
Jacob let out a pent-up breath. She was being obstinate, letting her anger dictate her actions. But what would he have done in her case? Could he put aside years and years of betrayal to forgive so easily? “Very well. I will let him know.”
She looked at him sharply. “Was he expecting me to come running back to him?”
“He was hoping for a reconciliation of some sort.”
She sat down in the nearest chair as if her legs had just given out on her.
“It makes no difference,” she said. “I’m leaving for Americ
a, leaving all this behind. Meeting him now wouldn’t change anything, and it’s best not to open those old wounds.”
Marry Miss Morris.
No!
He was not going to marry her just to help her escape her aunt. She had a family willing to help her. He’d done what was right. He’d informed the Chadleys of Charlotte’s desperate situation. It was time for him to step away and attend to his own mounting affairs.
But he didn’t want to step away. He didn’t want to hand Charlotte off to the Chadleys even if it was the right thing to do.
She stood and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m going to meet Cotton tomorrow to talk to him about the documents I need. As soon as I have the proper documentation I will begin to plan for my voyage.”
“Don’t,” he said brokenly.
She looked at him curiously. “Don’t what? Don’t go to see Cotton?”
“Don’t leave.”
“I can’t live off your kindness forever.”
Marry Miss Morris.
“But must you leave England entirely?”
“There is nothing here for me. And there is a vast world with endless possibilities.”
“I don’t think you really want to go.”
“Tell me, what do I have here?”
His heart was hammering, and he instinctively knew that he was at a moment in his life where he could go forward into the unknown or stay firmly planted in the known. Remain safe or step into danger?
“You have me,” he said quietly.
Her expression softened. “You have been a good friend, my lord. And I will forever be grateful for your kindness.”
He winced. Either she had completely misconstrued what he was saying, or she had deliberately misinterpreted it.
“Of course,” he said. “I will always be here for you.”
“I’m sorry I became so angry at you. It’s just that I don’t want the Chadleys involved in any of this.”
“I won’t pretend to understand why you won’t use the resources you have. You can create any life you want right here in London, and they are willing to help. But I will respect your wishes not to meet them.”
Her gaze flickered away, and that thing inside Jacob that made him such a good solicitor told him that there was more to the story.
There was a reason she hadn’t gone to them. There was a reason she’d hidden in the rookery, and there was a reason she wanted to run to America.
What is that reason?
…
Charlotte sat in the window seat in Jacob’s study and stared unseeingly out the window. She was restless and realized that she had not been outside since coming to the house six days ago. Jacob had not expressly forbidden her to leave. He’d not given her any parameters as to her behavior or where she could or could not go, other than the night before when he’d asked her not to go outside so late at night.
She wanted to walk in the sunshine. She wanted to feel the fresh air on her face. She wanted to see other people. She wanted to blend in like a proper miss and not a vagrant to be avoided.
She wanted to be normal for just a few hours.
She rummaged around her room in search of a cloak. It seemed that Mrs. Smith had made it her duty to convert all of Cora Baker’s gowns to fit Charlotte. She’d even discovered that Charlotte preferred a little less lace on her gowns and had been kind enough to take a lot of the furbelows off.
She found a rather plain gray one and shook it out. After wearing black for the past five years, gray seemed like a breath of fresh air.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Smith suddenly appeared in the entryway as Charlotte was opening the front door. She jumped as if she were caught doing something wrong. You’re allowed to leave. You’re not being held against your will. This wasn’t her aunt’s house or the rookery.
“I thought I would take a stroll around the park. Would you like to join me?”
Mrs. Smith’s cheeks flushed, and she ran her dust cloth through her fingers in an agitated fashion, and Charlotte wondered if maybe she’d been given instructions to not let Charlotte out.
“Of course I can’t go walking with you,” Mrs. Smith said, rather harshly. “I have far too much to do, and you should not go out on your own. It’s not done.”
“Then you should go with me.”
Mrs. Smith sniffed, but Charlotte thought she detected a ghost of smile, quickly gone.
“Really, Mrs. Smith, I’m just going down the street to the park. I need some air. I haven’t left the house in days.”
Mrs. Smith looked unconvinced that this was a good idea. “His lordship never said you couldn’t go out.”
“Well, there you go.” At least she wasn’t a prisoner.
“But he never said you could, either.”
“Really, Mrs. Smith. I hardly think a stroll through the park should merit this discussion.”
Mrs. Smith seemed to think about it. “You really haven’t been outside in days, and that’s not good for a body.”
“Certainly it isn’t.” Charlotte was trying hard not to grin. Mrs. Smith really was a gem, and she guarded this house and “his lordship” like a dragon did its eggs.
“Very well. As long as it’s just down to the park and back.”
“You can join me.”
Mrs. Smith harrumphed, but her eyes glittered, and for a moment they shared a smile, a small confidence, and a crack in the formality of their relationship.
“Go on with you.” Mrs. Smith snapped the dust cloth in Charlotte’s direction, and Charlotte giggled as she hurried out the door.
At her aunt’s house she had only been allowed to go outside if they were walking to church, which they did several times a week. Other than that her aunt never left the house and had seen no reason for Charlotte to leave it, either. In the rookery, Charlotte had always gone outside because the stench of the place had been overwhelming, and escaping the smell and deprivation had saved her sanity, but there was only a small window of time to be outside in the rookery, and Charlotte had always been aware of that.
This day was bright and warm, such a change from the cold, rainy spring they’d been having. She’d told Jacob that she was going to visit Cotton today, but it had been a passing thought, something she knew she had to do soon in order to put her plans into action. But not today.
She thought of Suzette, wondered how she was faring. Suzette was a survivor, and no doubt she was living just fine without Charlotte. More than likely she enjoyed having the lodgings all to herself. Or maybe she was charging rent to someone else to live there and pocketing some extra coin. That seemed more like Suzette.
Charlotte found herself at the edge of the market. She’d walked farther than she had intended and much farther than the park. Mrs. Smith would not be pleased if she knew.
The market bustled with activity, people going this way and that, calling out greetings, haggling with the vendors. It was a place vibrant and alive with humanity, and she grinned, wanting to be in the middle of it all.
And then she saw him, and everything inside of her went cold.
Chapter Fourteen
He stood in a darkened doorway, watching the people pass him by, his face shadowed by his top hat. But she knew exactly who he was. She would know him anywhere.
Charlotte’s heart pounded right down to her toes. She swallowed through a dry throat, her feet fixed to the ground. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to.
He hadn’t seen her. He was gazing in the other direction. She followed his gaze and realized with a sick feeling that he was watching a gaggle of female servants gathered together, clutching their baskets as they talked and laughed.
They had no idea who was watching or what danger they were in.
People jostled about her, knocked into her shoulder, muttered for her to get out of the way.
He turned his head, and she saw his full face.
Jacob thought she was running away from her aunt.
But she was really running from this man
.
Her cousin.
Edmund, Lord Morris.
His gaze flickered past her, stopped, returned, considered, and moved on.
What was he doing here? Was her aunt here as well? Charlotte yanked her gaze from him long enough to search the area for a straight-backed, thin, black-clad woman with a perpetual scowl. But she wasn’t there. It was silly to even think of her aunt going to the market. That was for the servants and far beneath her.
So how had Edmund escaped the house without his mother?
He never went anywhere without her. She wouldn’t let him.
Slowly Charlotte backed up a step, like someone trying to escape an angry bear. Don’t startle him. Don’t make him look this way.
If he knew she was here, if he saw her dressed like this, he would tell his mother because Edmund told his mother everything. She’d put the fear of the devil in her boy from the moment he’d been born, and what a horrible ordeal that had been, bringing the ungrateful lad into this world. Charlotte had heard the story an endless amount of times.
She supposed that Edmund had heard it even more.
He was a strange-looking man. Even in the shadows people sensed it and steered clear of him. He’d inherited his mother’s height and her slim build. His arms were abnormally long, his head larger than average. His eyes were close set, and his ears stuck out from his head like pitcher handles.
His mother often remarked on his strange looks, berating him as if it were his fault. So many times Charlotte had wanted to defend him.
At first, she’d felt sorry for her cousin and had tried to befriend him, but he had only folded in on himself and slunk away.
Eventually Charlotte had stopped trying. Edmund hadn’t seemed to want to be her friend, and Charlotte’s actions had only enraged her aunt.
Edmund’s attention seemed to come back to her, and he took a step out of the shadows. Panicked that she’d been discovered, Charlotte acted on instinct and ran. She bumped into a finely dressed gentleman who tried to keep her from falling.
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