He wondered why Lord Ambrose was so interested in her. Was it just that Charlene made an easy target for the man, given that he currently held her father’s life in his hands? Or was it possible that there was something more to it – say, the fact that Lord Ambrose knew that he, Eric, was trying to help the woman?
Given the way that the investigator had shown up at Eric’s manor to threaten him after Eric did nothing more than bring Charlene to see her father, Eric had a feeling that it was more to do with his own involvement in the situation than anything that Charlene had done.
He couldn’t back out of this now, though. He had given his word, and even if that meant nothing to him, there was the fact that he couldn’t let Charlene be married to that ogre. As it was, his word meant everything to him.
He was going to solve this. Somehow. He just needed to get his hands on Harvey Parsons.
There was a knock at the door not long after his hired man had left. Eric grimaced, in no mood for company at the moment. Especially not when it was Lord Ambrose who was announced. His hands clenched reflexively at his sides, and he forced himself to take a deep and calming breath.
He had been expecting some sort of confrontation with the chief investigator ever since he had requested the hold on the trial. In fact, he had been surprised that it hadn’t come before now. That didn’t mean that he was much looking forwards to this, however.
At least it wasn’t Lady Annabelle again. He had to smile at that thought.
The woman was still maddeningly all over him. What’s worse, his mother only seemed to encourage the other woman’s terrible flirtatiousness. Eric knew that he could never hope to court someone like Charlene, but there had to be someone better suited to him than Annabelle!
For now, though, he had other things on his mind. He squared his shoulders and went to meet the Marquess.
Lord Ambrose wasted no time on pleasantries. “My Lord-Duke, I have to say that I am appalled by your actions,” he said.
Eric fought the urge to roll his eyes, wondering just what the rumor mill was saying about him now. Did Ambrose think that he had touched Charlene out of turn? Of course, there had been kisses, but Eric had no doubt that if anyone have seen those, the talk would have already spread.
He sincerely doubted that Charlene herself would have said anything about the kisses to Ambrose. Would she?
Eric raised an eyebrow coolly. “Which actions are you most disgusted by, my lord?” he asked smoothly.
Lord Ambrose practically purpled in fury. “You know very well,” he hissed, stepping forwards like he wished to tower over Eric, as though the Duke were no more than a boy. But Eric was much taller than the Marquess would ever be, and more muscular at that. The resultant effect was much diminished and left the Marquess looking more like a puffed up peacock than anything else.
“I warned you once before to stay away from Charlene,” Lord Ambrose continued thunderously.
“I thought you meant simply that I wasn’t to bring her to see her father again,” Eric lied.
“You thought no such thing!” Ambrose exploded, spittle flying madly.
Eric winced. And Charlene was to marry this man, in order to save her father? Not on his life!
Eric let the other lord stew in his anger for a long moment. Finally, he gave a slow and deliberate shrug. “I am merely trying to ensure that the correct man is hanged for the murder of Lord Henrich. After all, we wouldn’t want there to be any more murders, would we? It’s a matter of our own security, Lord Ambrose. I’m simply looking out for my own interests and health.”
“You dare accuse me of falsifying evidence against Dr. Ellington?” Ambrose nigh on shouted.
“Of course not,” Eric said. He simply didn’t believe that the Marquess had all the facts in front of him. Nor was he trying particularly hard to see the doctor’s innocence. “I would appreciate if you didn’t talk to me thus in my own home.”
For a second, he thought that Ambrose might hit him. He held his breath, waiting for the blow. Such as that would make it all too easy for him to ruin the other man. But the Marquess seemed to recover his temper at just the last second. He took a step back, breathing heavily.
Eric couldn’t resist prodding the man further. “I have evidence that it wasn’t Dr. Ellington who poisoned Lord Henrich,” he said. It was more a bluff than anything else. He was sure that Harvey Parsons was the man who had committed the crime, but unless and until he could apprehend the man and bring him to the trial, there was no hard evidence to present.
Somehow, Lord Ambrose seemed to realize that there was some delay, but he put a sickly smile on his face and said pleasantly, “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. After all, the judge just overruled your stay order. The trial is set to begin within the week.”
Eric tried to keep the horror from showing on his face. Of course, he had expected nothing different. That hold had been simply temporary. He had hoped that he would be granted more time, however.
He wouldn’t have needed more time if Parsons weren’t such a slippery fish.
He refused to give away any of his thinking now, though. If Lord Ambrose didn’t know what cards the duke held, then the game was still on. “I will see you at the trial,” he said simply.
“Stay away from Charlene until then,” Lord Ambrose warned him.
“It would be wise for you not to threaten a duke,” Eric commented coldly.
He could see Lord Ambrose’s response forming in his eyes. But finally, the Marquess turned stiffly and stalked out of his home.
Eric slumped into a chair, drawing Dr. Ellington’s journal towards him once more. There had to be some sort of clue in the writing. Something else that would lead him to Harvey Parsons. He had been over the documents a number of times, and still nothing.
He would do whatever was in his power to prove the correct man guilty, however. It wasn’t just the doctor’s life that hung in the balance but Charlene’s as well. So he started to read it again.
Chapter 23
Miss Charlene Ellington
The waiting was the worst part of all, Charlene decided. Ever since the scandal of her meetings with Eric, she felt as though she was cut off from the rest of society. It took ages for news to filter back to her. None of her friends wanted to see her anymore, and she and Eric couldn’t communicate at all.
Since Lord Ambrose’s terrible visit, when Charlene told the man that she would never marry him, Helene had ceased to speak to the young woman as well.
Charlene stared out the window of the sitting room at the rain. There was a chill in the room, but she didn’t move to fetch a blanket or to stoke the fire. Numbness was all that she could feel these days.
She looked up as someone came up the walk. As hard as she might peer through the warped glass, however, she could not discern who the man was. Not Lord Ambrose, however. Or was it?
She shuddered at the thought of another visit from the malevolent Marquess. Would he demand an answer from her again? How would he react if he found that she hadn’t changed her mind? She certainly hadn’t been having a fit when she told him that she would never marry him.
Although… That dark thought that was always at the back of her mind surfaced again: What if marrying Lord Ambrose is the only way to save Father?
She felt sick at the very thought of it. Doomed either way.
It wasn’t Lord Ambrose, but somehow, that ended up being even worse. Instead, it was a messenger who came to tell them that the hold on the trial had been overruled. Whatever Eric had done to stall, it hadn’t been enough.
She swallowed hard at the thought that her father could be found guilty in the week.
She had to know what Eric was planning. If he’d had enough time to find the real perpetrator. If he hadn’t, perhaps there was something that she could do to help him.
Either way, and as improper as it might be, she wanted him to comfort her. To promise her that everything was going to be all right. Was that too much to ask?
&nb
sp; “Charlene, where are you going?” Helene snapped as Charlene rushed from the room. The rain had thankfully abated as she raced across the city. That said, she certainly splashed enough water onto her dress that she was pretty well drenched regardless.
She pounded on the door of the duke’s manor. A startled-looking servant answered. “Lord Eric is not here this evening,” he told her.
“Please, you have to tell me – where is he?” Charlene gasped. She had a stitch in her side from running across town, but she would run ten times the distance at twice the speed if it meant that she could save her father’s life.
“I’m not sure that he would wish for me to divulge his whereabouts,” the man said, looking as though he wished to close the door on her.
“Please,” Charlene begged. “It’s a matter of life and death. You must help me.”
The man looked pityingly at her. Charlene knew that she must be quite a sight: hair falling out of its coif, dress rain-speckled, and tears glistening on her cheeks.
Finally, the man relented. “He is at the theatre tonight,” he said in a low voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “You did not hear that from me.”
“Thank you!” Charlene blurted out, of half a mind to give the man a hug. Wouldn’t that given them all something to talk about. Instead, she turned on her heel and raced off again, this time turning her steps towards the theatre.
She only hoped that she would successfully be able to find him there. And that the Lady Annabelle wouldn’t be there beside him.
She ducked her head self-consciously under the stairs as she hurried up the steps to the theatre. She knew she looked a mess, but there were much greater concerns at the moment. Except that when she reached the entryway, they would not allow her to pass.
“Miss Ellington,” one of the men at the door sighed. He took her arm and led her off to the side, clearly trying to shield her from making a spectacle of herself.
Charlene tried to pull away from him. “Wait, stop!” she cried. “I need to go inside.”
“Miss Ellington,” the man repeated, sounding pained, “you are in no fit state to grace our theatre tonight.” He looked pointedly at her soiled dress. He paused, lowering his voice. “Even if you didn’t look worse for wear, you must admit you’d likely be uncomfortable during the show?”
He was attempting to give her a way out with her dignity somewhat intact. But Charlene wasn’t having any of it.
“I don’t wish to see the play,” she snapped. “I simply need to speak to the Duke of Havenport.”
There was a hushed silence. Charlene was aware of the fact that people had halted on their way into the theatre and were staring at her. She ignored them.
“Please,” she said to the man from the theatre. “Could you find the Duke and ask him to meet me here? That is all that I’m asking.”
The man looked reluctant. “Lord Eric entered the theatre some time ago, with the Lady Annabelle on his arm,” he said slowly. “I very much doubt that they would wish to be disturbed. The play should be starting soon.”
Charlene gave a bitter laugh. “So now you will not even allow me to send a message?” she asked incredulously. She looked around at the gathered people. “I might remind you that my dear father is currently being held for a crime that he hasn’t committed. Yet you all seem to be conspiring to make certain that the Duke and I cannot prove his innocence.”
She paused, fury boiling hot inside of her. “If this, the corruption that runs through this town, corruption that you all have a part of, is what ruins my name, then so be it. I want nothing more to do with any of you anyway. I only hope your daughters don’t one day have to face the same circumstances as I.”
She held her head high as she turned to go down the steps. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind her.
“Charlene!” It was Eric’s unmistakable voice that rang out.
Charlene froze, wondering who it was who had told him that she was there asking to see him. Whoever it was, she only hoped she could thank them when this whole dirty mess was through.
She turned back to Eric, who was staring down at her in horror from a couple steps above her. “Charlene, what has happened to you?” he asked in a hushed voice. “You look…” He trailed off, seeming lost for words.
“I’ve seen sewer rats who look better than her,” Lady Annabelle said snidely from his side. She looked furious at the interruption of her night, and she put a hand on Eric’s arm, keeping him from moving closer to Charlene. “Darling, we ought to return to our seats,” she insisted.
Eric waved her off, though, stepping further down the stairs. “Charlene, did something happen?”
“The trial,” Charlene finally managed, feeling as though she might begin to sob at any moment. Of course she had been foolish to trust Eric. Here she was, hoping that he would save her father’s life, and he was out at the theatre with another woman. She ought to have known better.
Which meant that her only option was to go crawling back to Lord Ambrose and beg his forgiveness. Beg for a man she despised to take her hand in marriage. What more could she do?
“I know,” Eric said, but before he could say anything else, Lady Annabelle came down the steps towards her, fire in her gaze.
“Yes, the trial,” she said, pitching her voice so that all the onlookers could hear. “The trial, because your father is a murderer. Isn’t that what we’ve all heard? That there is so much evidence against your father that it would be impossible to prove otherwise?”
Annabelle narrowed her eyes at Charlene. “I’m simply grateful to know that once your father swings, you’ll never darken a doorstep in this town again. You will be a pauper, and you will never have a chance to come near Eric again.”
Charlene stumbled a half-step back as though she had been slapped. “He’s not going to hang,” she whispered, looking at Eric for confirmation. “He’s innocent.”
“If you’re crazy enough to believe that, then you’re probably crazy enough to murder as well,” Annabelle said haughtily. “I wonder if perhaps you ought to be locked up as well.”
To Charlene’s horror, there were some murmurs of assent from the crowd. She ducked her head, hoping that they couldn’t see the tears. Suddenly, she realized how hopeless things truly were. She wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to realize that she couldn’t rely on Eric’s help to save her from this situation.
Except that suddenly, Eric stepped in. “Lady Annabelle, that is quite enough,” he said tartly. “Charlene, I know that your father is innocent. You have to trust me when I say that I’m working on a plan to save him, although I cannot get into the details here.”
But Charlene was shaking her head as despair welled up inside of her. “The trouble is that no one will ever believe us – my father or I,” she whispered. “Even if you provide undisputable proof that he had nothing to do with Lord Henrich’s death, he will still be branded a murderer.”
She knew, then, that the only chance she had at redemption was what Lord Ambrose had told her. She had to agree to marry the Marquess. If Eric could prove her father innocent, that would only save the man’s life. Marrying Lord Ambrose was the only way to truly save her family.
As that realization settled in her mind, all her panic fled, and her tears stopped. She lifted her chin proudly. “You do not need to help my father,” she said, her voice ringing out amongst those gathered there. “I release you from any and all obligation.”
Eric gaped at her. “Charlene,” he said insistently, reaching out to catch her arm as she made to turn away from him. Her skin was like ice beneath his fingers. “I know who the true murderer was.”
The young woman shook her head, though, carefully pulling her arm free. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, giving a bitter laugh. She looked around at the crowd. “You’ve already made up your minds that he’s innocent and that I’m crazy. Don’t lie and tell me that you haven’t.” She took in a deep breath and looked back at Eric, trying her best to memorize every feature
of his face.
This might be the last time she saw him. A few stolen kisses: that was all the love that she would ever have in her life. The Marquess, she was sure, would not allow her anywhere near the Duke of Havenport.
“Goodbye, Lord Eric,” she said quietly. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I know that you tried your best.”
“Don’t,” the duke blurted out as she turned away. He knew exactly why she was saying goodbye to him, knew exactly what she’d made her mind up to do. He couldn’t let her marry the Marquess. He couldn’t let Lord Ambrose win.
But Charlene didn’t pause, and as she rushed away from them, the crowd moved closer, hemming him in. He couldn’t get to her in time, and he knew then that he had lost her for good.
Regency Diaries of Seduction Collection: A Regency Historical Romance Box Set Page 73