The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  Mr Ainslowe patted her arm. ‘I shall see what I can do.’ He turned towards Sir Gilbert, who was returning with another cup of punch for Carlotta. ‘You are coming to Ottwood, are you not, Gil?’

  ‘Alas, no. I must go out of town for a few days.’

  Adele looked up quickly. ‘Oh, but it will not prevent you joining us at Malberry?’

  Sir Gilbert bowed. ‘Oh, no, ma’am.’ He turned to smile at Carlotta. ‘I am very much looking forward to that.’

  The following day Mr Woollatt called at Broxted House. The ladies were in the morning room when he was announced; Carlotta gave him a faint smile, but her aunt flew from her chair and greeted him with uncommon warmth.

  ‘My dear sir, you are very welcome. When did you arrive back in town?’

  ‘Last night, madam.’

  ‘Fie on you, sir, and it is now nearly dinner time! Why did you not call this morning? You must know how welcome you are here.’

  Carlotta blinked and listened in surprise as her aunt pressed Mr Woollatt to join them for dinner.

  ‘I would like that very much, ma’am, but my dress…’

  Since Mr Woollatt was wearing a black tailcoat and knee breeches, Carlotta could not help wondering if he was half expecting the invitation. Lady Broxted was quick to reassure him.

  ‘Pho, we stand upon no ceremony here, sir. Now if you were one of these young bucks who think it acceptable to go round sporting a spotted handkerchief instead of a necktie, an untidy coat and top boots bearing only one spur, I should not be so forbearing, but you, sir, are always dressed with neatness and propriety!’

  ‘If I am not inconveniencing you…’

  ‘No, indeed, Mr Woollatt. Pray sit down, sir. You will excuse me for a moment while I order another place to be laid.’

  She hurried away, and Carlotta was left alone with Mr Woollatt.

  ‘I understand the town has been very hot of late, Miss Rivington. I trust you have not suffered while I have been away?’

  ‘No, I have been very well, sir, thank you.’ She wondered if he wanted her to say how much she had missed him. She could not lie, so she kept silent. He sat back in his chair, folding his hands across his chest.

  ‘I am very much looking forward to going to Malberry Court next week. A country-house party is the very thing to raise the spirits. Your uncle tells me you will be travelling down early next week—it is my intention to be waiting for you there.’

  The smile that accompanied these words made Carlotta look away, something very like panic welling up inside her. She was thankful that her aunt returned at that moment, and she was not obliged to reply. Mr Woollatt immediately turned his attention to his hostess.

  ‘You are not to be thinking I came here merely to beg a dinner,’ he said, chuckling at his own humour. ‘I have come to issue an invitation for you and Miss Rivington to join me at the theatre tomorrow night. I have secured a box at the English Opera House in Wellington Street.’

  ‘The theatre? How splendid—is it not, Carlotta?’

  ‘But, Aunt, I thought we were promised to Mrs Winterton.’

  ‘A card party! What is that when there is such a treat in store for us?’ Lady Broxted dismissed the hapless Mrs Winterton with one white hand. ‘You need not fret, my love. It was never fixed, after all. We will be delighted to join you, Mr Woollatt.’

  ‘Excellent.’ he rubbed his hands together. ‘They are performing a farce and one of Mr Sheridan’s comedies. I thought Miss Rivington might prefer that to more serious fare, and I shall be able to show you both the new gas lighting.’ Carlotta thought she had misheard him, but she saw that her aunt was looking equally blank. ‘Not only do they have the new lanterns at the entrance, but they are using gas to light the stage, too,’ explained Mr Woollatt.

  ‘How exciting,’ murmured Lady Broxted. ‘We are very much in your debt, sir. You will be able to wear your new silk gown, Carlotta.’

  Mr Woollatt beamed. ‘A new gown? I am sure you will look delightful, Miss Rivington, and as for being in my debt, well, ma’am, the sight of Miss Rivington in her new gown shall be my reward!’

  The English Opera House gleamed in the evening sunlight, its new white stone pillars not yet blackened with the soot from the thousands of coal fires that warmed the metropolis each winter. Mr Woollatt escorted his charges to the theatre in his own carriage, informing them as he did so that the building had been designed by Mr Beazley to incorporate all the most modern comforts, as well as the celebrated gas lighting.

  ‘You cannot appreciate this innovation while it is daylight,’ he said, ‘but you will see it when we leave the theatre tonight, and, of course, the stage will be illuminated. Our enjoyment should be greatly enhanced, eh, Miss Rivington?’

  They took their seats in the box and Mr Woollatt hovered about the ladies, making sure that Carlotta had a good view of the stage, offering to put her shawl about her shoulders if she should feel a chill and bringing his own chair close beside her. Carlotta turned with a look of entreaty to her aunt, who was sitting a little apart, but she merely nodded approvingly.

  ‘Well, this is very cosy,’ remarked Mr Woollatt as the play began. ‘You told me you enjoy the theatre, Miss Rivington. I come to the plays regularly when I am in town. I hope this may be the first of many little outings we will make together.’

  Carlotta smiled, but could think of nothing to say and after a few moments Mr Woollatt turned his attention to the stage. Carlotta wished she could go home.

  When the farce ended several visitors arrived in the box, most of them friends of Mr Woollatt, but some came to pay their respects to Lady Broxted, including James Ainslowe and his wife. After Mr Woollatt’s rather ponderous conversation, Carlotta was glad to see them, but her smile slipped a little when she saw Lord Darvell following them into the box. Mr Woollatt has risen from his seat when the visitors had arrived and he was now obliged to stand against the back wall to make room for them all. He directed their attention to the new gas lanterns on the stage, but no one seemed to hear him. The little box buzzed with conversation, Mr Woollatt presented his acquaintances to Carlotta and Mr and Mrs Ainslowe engaged Lady Broxted in a lively discussion. When Mr Woollatt’s friends departed, he took a step back towards his chair, but Lord Darvell was there before him and slipped into the seat beside Carlotta, his knee almost touching her own. She tensed, prepared to spring away from him should he dare to touch her.

  ‘Did you enjoy the farce, Miss Rivington?’

  ‘Very much, my lord.’

  She turned away, supposedly looking in the audience for her acquaintance, but was very much aware of him, sitting so close to her. Every nerve in her body seemed to be on edge.

  ‘Mr Foote’s comedies are always of a superior nature,’ opined Mr Woollatt.

  They ignored him.

  ‘And what do you think of the scenery?’ asked Luke.

  Carlotta was immediately on her guard. She risked a glance at his face and fancied that the devil was in his eyes.

  ‘I did not notice. I was enjoying the play.’

  ‘I thought it was a little crude.’

  ‘I believe they have several renowned artists here,’ stated Mr Woollatt, on the defensive.

  Luke kept his gaze fixed upon Carlotta. ‘But I have seen better artwork, have not you, Miss Rivington?’

  She did not answer, merely unfurled her fan and waved it languorously before her. He turned a little more on his chair until his knee was in contact with her thigh. It was the lightest touch, but it burned through the thin muslin of her skirts, making her tremble. It was all she could do not to move away. It was all she could do not to press against him. Carlotta swallowed hard. She dare not look at him as he continued.

  ‘I thought the street in Rome looked a little contrived, too—what thought you, ma’am?’

  ‘Oh, come now,’ said Mr Woollatt. ‘You cannot expect Miss Rivington to know such a thing. She has never been to Italy.’ He paused. ‘That is, have you visited Italy, Miss Rivington?�
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  She began to wave her fan much more vigorously. ‘I was there with my parents,’ she muttered. ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘Well…’ Mr Woollatt puffed out his cheeks. ‘How on earth did you know that, sir?’

  ‘I—I expect my aunt and uncle mentioned it,’ put in Carlotta quickly, aware of the wicked gleam in Luke’s eyes. He was going to denounce her, she knew it. She put up her chin. She would not crumble beneath his mocking glance. Whatever he did to her, she would not give him that satisfaction.

  ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I expect they did.’

  ‘Luke—’ Adele put her hand on his shoulder ‘—we must be getting back to our own box, the play will begin very soon.’

  Lord Darvell rose. ‘A pity,’ he murmured, ‘When we were all getting along so well.’ He turned to Mr Woollatt. ‘Your servant, sir. Perhaps we may continue our conversation at a later date.’

  Mr Woollatt watched him leave, his bottom lip jutting. ‘Audacious young dog! He presumes to know you very well, Miss Rivington.’

  Carlotta wondered if she should confess the truth—surely nothing could be so bad as the game of cat and mouse Luke was playing with her? She glanced at her aunt; she must be told the truth before anyone else, and a box at the theatre was not the place for that. So she must put off her confession to another day. She summoned a bright smile for Mr Woollatt.

  ‘Lord Darvell is, as you say, sir, an audacious gentleman.’

  Luke accompanied James and Adele back to their seats on the opposite side of the theatre, his senses full of Carlotta, her dark beauty, the perfume of the violets in her corsage, the warmth of her thigh when his knee had touched it—only a couple of thin layers of material had separated them. It was a wicked thought.

  ‘Well, what do you think, is it a match?’ Adele walked between the two men, looking up at each of them in turn.

  ‘Woollatt seems very much at home there,’ opined James.

  ‘She won’t have him,’ said Luke shortly.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ James rubbed his nose. ‘Woollatt is as rich as Dives and Lady Broxted is giving him every encouragement. Broxted won’t want to let a fortune slip away from the family.’

  ‘Well, we shall know soon enough,’ said Adele, taking her seat. ‘They will all be at Malberry and we shall have plenty of time to observe them. Now, let us be quiet and enjoy Mr Sheridan’s play.’

  Luke sat down, but he paid very little attention to the actors. Instead his eyes kept straying to the box opposite, where Daniel Woollatt seemed to be for ever hovering over Carlotta, leaning towards her to make some comment, whispering in her ear. And she was smiling at him, damn her! Luke’s reason told him that she was merely being polite, but every smile, every gesture towards Woollatt, flayed his spirits. It did not matter that he knew her to be a shallow, heartless creature; it galled him to see her giving her attention to anyone else. Now Woollatt was pointing out something on the stage to her, their heads so close together they were almost touching. Heaven and earth, how much longer did he have to endure this?

  At last it was over. As the audience applauded, he watched Woollatt tenderly placing Carlotta’s wrap around her. Surely his hands lingered far too long on her shoulders? What was her aunt thinking of, to let the man maul her in such a way? Smothering an oath, Luke turned away to follow his brother out of the box. As they made their way out into the street, he muttered his excuses, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Adele turned to give him her hand.

  ‘Good night, then, Luke.’ She looked up at the front of the building and said with a laugh in her voice, ‘Oh, look, these must be the new lanterns Mr Woollatt described to us. What thought you of the new gas lighting for the stage, Luke? Do you agree with Mr Woollatt that it is a splendid innovation?’

  He scowled. ‘No, I do not. I thought the smell of the gas quite nauseating!’

  Chapter Nine

  As the date for leaving town drew closer, Carlotta grew ever more anxious. She knew Darvell would be going to Malberry and she could not be sure how he would behave towards her. With less than a week until their departure, she decided she could bear the uncertainty no longer. They were all engaged to spend the day at Lady Ottwood’s house on the edge of the town, but Carlotta cried off, pleading a migraine and begging that she should be allowed to rest at home for the day. With some difficulty she persuaded her aunt and uncle to go without her and, as soon as the carriage had rolled away, she dashed off a note to Lord Darvell. She did not know if he would come. As she moved restlessly about the house she remembered only too well how he had promised to come to her once before.

  No morning had ever dawned so bright as that last day at Malberry. Carlotta woke early, a warm glow of expectation filling her even before she remembered why. ‘Until tomorrow, my sweet life.’ Recalling the look in Luke’s eyes as he had taken his leave of her sent Carlotta’s spirits soaring. She threw herself into the morning’s activities, insisting on cleaning and tidying the little parlour before she set off to the market with Jack, their manservant, to collect their provisions. She was anxious to get back, but even so the choosing of a freshly plucked chicken could not be rushed and it was past noon before her shopping was complete and she returned to the house. Jack’s arms were full with baskets and parcels so Carlotta went before him to the back door to let them in. She had scarcely put down her basket when Mrs Durini put her head around the kitchen door.

  ‘Good, you are back. Make haste and come in, Carlotta, we have visitors!’

  Carlotta’s heart leapt. Pausing only to take off her bonnet, she hurried to the parlour.

  ‘Here I am, Mama…’

  She trailed off, her eyes widening as she found herself being regarded by a total stranger.

  With her mind in confusion, Carlotta was introduced to her uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Broxted. She listened to explanations of renewing family connections, reinstating her in society, giving her the opportunity to make a good marriage, but all she could think of was that it was past two o’clock. Surely Luke should be here by now.

  ‘I do not like to rush you, Carlotta, but your aunt and I must return to London tonight.’ Lord Broxted turned to his sister and gave a tight little smile. ‘It has taken my people a long time to track you down, Margaret. We only received word of your direction yesterday and my dear Celia was anxious that we should visit you immediately.’

  ‘We are off to the country at the end of the week, and we would like to take our niece with us,’ Lady Broxted explained with a smile at Carlotta. ‘I realise that this must be something of a shock for you all, and if you would rather take your time to discuss it, then of course you must do so, but we should not then be in a position to have her join us until the end of the year…’

  Carlotta gave a little curtsy. ‘And I am very grateful to you, my lady—Aunt—but it is all so sudden.’ Please, Luke, hurry. I need you.

  She uttered up her silent prayer. Everyone was smiling at her, convinced she must be delighted with the prospect of being taken off to live with the Earl and Countess of Broxted.

  ‘You will be free to return home whenever you wish,’ continued Lady Broxted. ‘But I intend to spoil you so much that you will want to stay with us for ever!’

  Carlotta looked at the smiling faces. A net, a fine mesh of love and good intentions, was closing around her. She rose.

  ‘I—um—if you will excuse me for a few moments, I must go and see…’

  ‘Carla, where on earth—?’

  But Carlotta did not wait to hear her mother’s words. She picked up her wrap and ran out of the house.

  It was only a short distance to the inn and she ran all the way. Before she reached the tap-room door the landlord came out. He stopped when he saw her, blinked, then gave her a smile.

  ‘Well, Miss Carla, what is it now? Surely your father cannot have finished all that fine wine I found for him?’

  ‘No, no, it is not that, Mr Hitchen. I…’ Carlotta hesitated, blushing ‘…I was wondering if you
r guest is within doors; the—um—the gentleman who has been staying with you.’ She twisted her hands together, hope and anxiety mixing within her as she waited for his answer.

  ‘Ah, you’d be meaning Major Ainslowe.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said eagerly, ‘yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Well, he’s gone, a good half hour since.’

  ‘Gone!’

  ‘Aye, that he has, Miss Carla. Now what was it he said?’ Hitchen jingled the coins in his pocket. ‘Let me think. He said he was tired o’ country ways, and country people. I think he had grown bored, miss. Said he wanted excitement. You know how these rich gentlemen can be. Miss Carla, are you quite well?’

  The landlord’s kindly concern brought her head up.

  ‘What? Oh, oh, yes, thank you, Mr Hitchen.’

  She forced herself to turn away and with an effort began to retrace her steps. The bubble of happiness inside her heart had burst, shattering into tiny pieces. So he had gone. He had only been amusing himself after all. But she had known that all along, had she not?

  By the time she reached her father’s door she had mastered the urge to cry. Instead her chin lifted a little. She went inside and found her parents sitting with Lord and Lady Broxted in uncomfortable silence. Her mother started up as she came in.

  ‘Carla, my love, whatever possessed you to run off in that way? Such rag-manners when your aunt and uncle have come so far to see you. ‘

  ‘I needed to—I had to…’ Carlotta took a long, steadying breath and looked directly at the earl. ‘My lord, if you still want me to come away with you tonight, then I am very willing.’

  A full twelve months had gone by since then and once again she was waiting for Luke. But Berkeley Square was a long way from Malberry and perhaps, after today, she would be free of him. It was shortly after noon when he was announced.

  ‘Please show Lord Darvell into the book room.’