For Carlotta, nothing else that day could match the enjoyment of her gallop across the park and those few stolen moments alone with Luke. Even the impromptu dance that evening could not compare, for although she stood up with Luke for two country dances, Mr Woollatt hovered around her and remained in close attendance for the whole of the evening.
When Lady Broxted carried her off to bed that evening, she had nothing but praise for her niece.
‘I confess I was a little anxious that Mr Woollatt might be offended, after your treatment of him yesterday, but you have made up for it today, my love, and no mistake. He was full of praise for you tonight! I have great hopes that he will declare himself tomorrow.’
‘Do you think so, Aunt?’
‘Without a doubt, my love. And now that you have had time to grow accustomed, you will not be tempted to run away again, now will you?’
‘No, Aunt. But…should I not tell him about—about Papa before he makes me an offer?’ asked Carlotta, clutching at a final straw.
They had stopped at the door of Carlotta’s chamber.
‘No, no, my love, your uncle will discuss everything with Mr Woollatt afterwards. There is no need for you to worry about that.’ Lady Broxted patted her cheek, saying fondly, ‘That’s a good girl. Just think how happy your dear mama will be when we tell her of the splendid match you have made! Now, hurry off to bed, child—I want you looking your best in the morning!’
Carlotta obeyed her aunt and made haste to get into bed, but sleep eluded her. She lay between the covers, tossing restlessly while the house gradually sank into silence and at last she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
She woke again as it was growing light and lay quietly, listening. She knew it must be very early, for the house was silent, sleeping still, but Carlotta was wide awake. She slipped out of bed and went to the window. There was only the faintest line of gold on the eastern horizon, the rest of the sky ranging from flushed pink to deep blue, and the land below was still tinged with grey.
Her room was in the west wing of the house, overlooking the walled garden with its statues that gleamed in the ghostly morning light. Carlotta fumbled with the catch and quietly pushed up the sash window. The air was pleasantly cool, and she leaned her elbows on the sill, breathing deeply while she considered her situation. It could not be so very bad to be married to Mr Woollatt. He was undoubtedly kind, and so rich that she need never want for anything. Perhaps they would have a house such as Malberry Court, and a stable full of horses. She smiled to herself; she would have to ride them very quietly.
Carlotta wondered why she was so anxious; she knew that many married couples lived very comfortably together: Mr and Mrs Ainslowe certainly appeared extremely happy, and she had never known her aunt and uncle to disagree in all the time she had lived with them. There was no reason why she should not be as happy in her marriage. She thought of Julia and Lord Fairbridge; she had watched them dancing together and had seen the glowing looks they had shared. Her heart clenched. If only she could look that way upon Mr Woollatt. But she knew there was only one man who evoked such emotion from her. She gave herself a little shake. She must not think of him. It was not at all helpful.
A movement below caught her attention. She peered down into the gardens. A shadowy figure was gliding close to the wall towards the house. One of the servants, she thought, returning from meeting his lover in the village. The thought deepened Carlotta’s depression. With a sigh she went back to her bed, hoping for an hour’s sleep before the maid brought her hot chocolate.
The restless night made Carlotta very tired the following morning and she sent her maid away, only to be woken some time later when the servant came back to announce that she had missed breakfast and that her aunt wished her to make her way directly to the library. She knew immediately the reason for the summons. Suddenly her sprig muslin with its tiny puff sleeves seemed far too flimsy to combat the chill that came over her. Carlotta knew this was merely nerves and resisted the temptation to wrap herself in her paisley shawl before running downstairs.
She opened the door to the little ante-room and found Lord Broxted waiting for her. He beckoned her to come forward, and as she did so her aunt came out of the library.
‘Ah, there you are, my love.’ She shut the door carefully. ‘And in your new gown, too. Very pretty. Mr Woollatt is waiting for you.’
The knot in Carlotta’s stomach twisted even tighter. ‘Aunt—I—that is—’
Her uncle reached out for her hand. ‘Go into the library, my dear,’ he said gently. ‘You know what you have to do.’
Carlotta looked from his smiling face to her aunt, who was nodding encouragement. Squaring her shoulders, she crossed the small ante-room, but at the library door she turned back. ‘Aunt, I do not think I can do this.’
‘Nonsense, my love. What is there to do? Mr Woollatt is not an ogre.’
‘I know that, but—’
Lord Broxted put up his hand. ‘Carlotta, this is no time to be difficult. Mr Woollatt’s intentions have been clear for some weeks; if you are averse to his suit, then you should have made that plain to us before now.’
‘No, no, it is not that…’
Carlotta twisted her hands together until Lady Broxted came up and caught them in her own gentle clasp.
‘I understand, my dear; you are afraid, and that is very natural, but your fears are unfounded. Do you think your uncle has not made enquiry? Mr Woollatt is known to be a good man; he will make you an excellent husband.’
‘And he has hinted that he is prepared to be very generous over the settlements,’ put in Lord Broxted. ‘The match will be very advantageous to your parents.’
‘I am sure Mr Woollatt is everything you say, but—’ She broke off as hasty footsteps approached from the hall.
‘Oh, excuse me.’ Luke’s long stride brought him into the ante-room before he realised it was occupied. ‘I left my riding gloves in here earlier.’ He looked from Carlotta to Lady Broxted. ‘I beg your pardon. I hope I am not interrupting anything?’
‘Please, my lord, just go,’ said Carlotta, dismayed.
‘It is a delicate matter, my lord, but I think you may be able to help us.’ Lady Broxted moved swiftly to close the door behind him. ‘You have proved yourself a true friend to my little niece, and your advice now would be welcomed.’
‘No,’ whispered Carlotta, but so quietly that no one heard her.
‘Aye, perhaps she will listen to you, sir,’ muttered Lord Broxted testily. Luke raised his brows. ‘Mr Woollatt is beyond that door,’ explained the earl, pointing towards the library. ‘My niece has only to go in and accept his offer of marriage and she will have every luxury showered upon her. She is a very fortunate young lady. Yet she hesitates. I pray you, Darvell, add your voice to ours, urge her to take the small step that will secure her comfort and happiness—and that of her family.’
Carlotta’s cheeks flamed. She dare not look up as she waited for Luke to speak.
‘Miss Rivington must do as she thinks fit,’ he said at last. ‘Woollatt is a good man; I believe his reputation to be unblemished.’
‘There, my love, what did I tell you?’ Lady Broxted beamed. ‘It is a match any mother would want for her daughter. Go in now, Carlotta. You have kept the poor man waiting long enough.’
The world seemed to be tilting. Carlotta put her hand against the doorpost to steady herself. She closed her eyes. Had this been planned, that Luke should come in and add his persuasion? If that was so, then truly he could not love her. The crushing pain in her chest made it difficult to breathe. Carlotta forced her eyes open, forced herself to look across the little room to where Luke was standing. His face showed nothing but polite indifference. He gave her a little bow, saying coldly, ‘I wish you every happiness, ma’am.’
She watched him turn away. He began to play with the little Dresden ornaments on the side table. She looked at his back, ramrod straight, the broad shoulders unyielding beneath the fine wool of his riding coat.
The sight offered her no comfort; she read rejection in every stiff line of his body.
‘My love, Mr Woollatt is waiting for you.’
Lady Broxted’s words recalled Carlotta’s wandering senses. She put up her chin, turned and walked into the library.
Luke moved the little porcelain shepherdess closer to her mate; he heard the door close and the soft sigh of relief uttered by Lady Broxted. Carlotta was about to make a most advantageous match and he had not stood in her way. He should feel happy for her. She would command every luxury, every comfort. But there had been no comfort in the look she had given him, only anxiety and fear and…
‘Damnation, I cannot allow this—’ He swung round, only to find Lord Broxted blocking his way.
‘One moment, Darvell. You are not indifferent to my niece, I think. Consider, if you please, before you commit an act that you may both regret. What can you offer her, compared to Daniel Woollatt? Granted, you have a title, but no fortune, and a reputation that is not to be envied.’
Angrily Luke shook off the earl’s restraining hand. ‘Perhaps we should let Carlotta choose!’
‘I think she has already chosen.’
The words hit him like icy water. His hands balled into fists and for a moment unreasoning anger threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to knock Broxted to the ground, but one did not brawl with fellow guests. Besides, what would it achieve? It would merely add to his reputation as the wild, wicked baron.
Lord Broxted patted his shoulder. ‘Let be, Darvell,’ he said gently. ‘It is best this way. She will be happy. Woollatt can give her everything.’
Unlike you. The words were unspoken, but Luke felt them in the air; they wrapped themselves around his heart, heavy as lead.
‘I pray you are right, Broxted.’ With a nod, he scooped his gloves from the table, turned on his heel and walked out.
Luke strode from the house, a red mist of anger, frustration and bitter disappointment clouding his thoughts. Billy was waiting for him in the stable yard.
‘Mr Ainslowe has gone on ahead, my lord. Says he will wait for you in the park,’ he announced formally as Luke swung himself into the saddle. ‘Would you like me to accompany you, sir?’
‘Of course not. I have no need of a damned nursemaid!’
Billy jumped back as Luke swung the big hunter around and trotted out of the yard. Somewhere deep inside him, reason told Luke that he would have to apologise to his groom, but that would come later. For now he just wanted to ride away and forget. So she would marry Woollatt and have everything her shallow heart desired. She had called him friend, but she had no need of him now.
A gallop across the park helped him to regain control over his temper, but did nothing to improve his mood—he found it impossible to raise a smile when he caught up with the main riding party.
‘Luke! Thought you had decided not to join us.’ James looked at him closely. ‘Are you well, brother? You look unusually grim. Is aught amiss?’
‘I am well enough—that is—urgent business calls me away.’ Why not? he thought. What is there to keep me here? ‘I only came here to tell you.’
‘What, you are going now, riding to town? Luke, wait—’
But he was already cantering away, ignoring his brother’s bewildered shout. He was determined to quit Malberry immediately. He would send word back to Billy and to his man—damnation, he could manage very well for one night without them and the thought of returning to the house, knowing that she was within its walls and unattainable, was not to be borne.
Soon he was trotting out of the gates, lost in his own black thoughts until he became aware of an unusual amount of activity on the edge of the village. Outside the Durinis’ house, in fact. But he must have made a mistake; it did not look like the Durinis’ cottage. Then he realised what was different: one half of the house was a blackened ruin.
Chapter Twelve
This cannot be real. I am dreaming. The thought echoed again and again in Carlotta’s head. It was as if she was outside herself, watching Mr Woollatt as he paced up and down the Axminster carpet, outlining his circumstances and pointing out to her the advantages of becoming his wife. She felt too detached. Surely it was not her voice that was speaking, expressing her obligation, saying how happy she would be to accept his kind offer. It seemed no sooner had these words been uttered than Mr Woollatt was kissing her hand, declaring himself to be the happiest of men. Then the doors opened and her aunt and uncle came in, Lady Broxted laughing and crying all at the same time and soon Carlotta was crying, too.
‘Oh, my dear, I am so happy for you.’ Lady Broxted hugged her. ‘And you have a ring already!’
Carlotta raised her left hand and looked at the large diamond that winked and glittered as she moved her fingers. It felt very heavy, like a manacle, shackling her to her fate.
‘Yes…’ Mr Woollatt came over, looking very smug. ‘I know how much these little trinkets mean to you ladies, so I took the precaution of bringing it with me.’
‘And it fits perfectly.’ Lady Broxted beamed at him. ‘How clever of you, sir.’
It was not to be expected that the engagement should be kept secret. Lady Broxted was eager to dash off to the breakfast room to tell the other houseguests and she would have dragged the happy couple with her, had not Mr Woollatt held up his hand.
‘I shall come in briefly to accept their felicitations, of course, but then you must excuse me, ma’am. My mother must be informed of this felicitous event. There is no time to lose, for I would rather tell her myself immediately than risk word reaching her in a roundabout way. Naturally, I discussed my intentions with her before coming to Malberry, but she will want to know if my hopes have been realised. Lord Broxted, I shall bring my lawyer back with me to agree the settlement. After that we can send an announcement to the newspapers, make it all official.’ He raised Carlotta’s hands to his lips, one after the other. ‘I am grieved to have to leave you so soon, my dear, but I shall not be gone above a couple of days. I shall be counting the hours until our next meeting.’
Carlotta murmured her reply and watched him walk away. All the time she felt nothing. Nothing.
Carlotta had hoped that once Mr Woollatt had departed she would be allowed some peace, but it was not to be; Lady Broxted kept her beside her for the rest of the day while the guests came in turn to congratulate her. Mrs Price called her a sly little puss and made Julia blush by telling her that she would have to hurry up and find a husband if she was not to become an old maid. Sir Gilbert looked thoughtfully at the diamond and wished her every happiness, while Mr and Mrs Ainslowe beamed at her, declaring they felt personally responsible for her good fortune. Only Luke was missing from the happy crowd and it was not until they were all gathered in the drawing room before dinner that she learned he had left the Court.
‘Urgent business in town,’ explained James.
‘Staving off his creditors, more like,’ grinned Mr Price, winking at his host.
James’s smile hardened slightly. ‘No, no, it has not come to that yet,’ he said gently.
Mrs Price gave a little laugh, although there was more than a hint of wistfulness about her as she said, ‘I doubt we are exciting enough for the Wicked Baron.’
‘I assure you, my brother-in-law is more than happy with the company here,’ said Adele. ‘Only a matter of grave importance would take him away.’
‘It is a great pity that Mr Woollatt has left us, too,’ continued Mrs Price. ‘What shall we do with so few gentlemen? Methinks Lord Fairbridge and Sir Gilbert will have to work twice as hard to keep us all amused.’
The viscount flushed at this, but Sir Gilbert merely laughed.
‘Oh, I am sure we shall contrive to amuse ourselves,’ replied Adele smoothly. ‘Now, shall we go in to dinner?’
‘If I had known Darvell was going to town, I would have given him a draft on my bank,’ said Sir Gilbert as everyone rose to make their way to the dining room. ‘I had a little luck with the cards recently, Ainslowe, a
nd I would buy that Tiepolo back from you. I thought this might be a good time for it, because I could have Reed take it back to town for me.’
‘My, my, Sir Gilbert, how would you manage without your valet?’ cried Mr Price, winking at his wife.
‘Very well, sir, I assure you. I am not such a frippery fellow that I cannot dress myself for a couple of days. But I would like to get the painting back to town.’
‘Oh, you would, eh?’ retorted James. ‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, Gil, but it ain’t for sale.’
Sir Gilbert laughed. ‘Surely, Ainslowe, you would not deny me my own again.’
‘Unfortunately for you, Sir Gilbert, I have taken quite a fancy to it,’ laughed Adele as she walked by on Lord Broxted’s arm. ‘I have to agree with James that it looks very well in the library—you will not get it back now, I think!’
Carlotta was thankful that her betrothal was no longer the main topic of interest and settled down to her meal, although she was so tired that every mouthful was an effort; she was relieved when Mrs Ainslowe shepherded the ladies back to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their brandy. The ladies disposed themselves gracefully on chairs and sofas, Lady Broxted explaining to Mrs Price that Mr Woollatt had gone north to apprise his mother of the happy change to his circumstances.
‘I think he would have been better advised to wait a little, until he could take Miss Rivington with him,’ opined Mrs Price, ‘When—if my Julia receives an offer while we are at Malberry, I should not want to separate the happy couple so soon.’
‘True, but there is also a case to be made for allowing them both to come to terms with their new situation,’ replied Lady Broxted.
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