“To Chartwell, my estate in Berkshire. At least, that’s what her note said.” He held out a small box. “In that note she asked that I return the betrothal ring to you myself.”
William took the box from Hurst. The finality of her leaving it behind was yet another blow to his battered heart.
Hurst walked over to the sideboard. “No offense, but you look ghastly. Shall I pour you a drink?”
William brushed aside the offer of a drink with an impatient wave of his hand. “What note?” he asked urgently. “If she left you a note that she was dashing off to Berkshire, why are you here instead of going after her?”
“I admit, that was my first inclination, but she specifically asked that I not do that.”
“In the note she left?”
“Yes.”
“And you actually did as she bid? Are you daft? Letting a lone female travel to Berkshire?”
“She took our town coach and coachman, as well as one of the footmen and her maid, so she’s hardly alone. Even so, I considered hiring some sort of conveyance and chasing after her, but there’s no faster way to make Charlotte dig in her heels about something than to go against her wishes. I’m quite sure she’s safe, and by not going after her, I hope she’ll have the time she needs to cool off, and reconsider her actions.” He shot William a quizzical look. “In the note, she said the two of you quarreled last night and that she’d decided to immediately call off the betrothal.”
Hurst might have voiced that last sentence as a statement, but it was clearly meant to be a question. “We did quarrel,” William said curtly. “But she never mentioned jilting me over it.”
Phillip Hurst nodded, his brows furrowed as he waited for William to continue, but he offered nothing further. He could hardly tell the man he’d quarreled with Charlotte over the need for a hasty marriage after making love to her.
However, that wasn’t the only reason he was reluctant to discuss what had occurred last night. He was barely holding his emotions in check. Part of him wanted to smash his fist into a wall to vent his frustration, to distract from the pain squeezing his heart into a painful knot. And part of him wanted to hole up in a room with a great quantity of whisky, and drink until he was well and truly foxed to dull the heartache. Truth be told, he considered it very probable he would indulge in both of those actions sometime today, but later, not now.
Breaking the silence, Hurst said, “Did you not receive a message from her this morning? I know for a fact she left notes to be delivered to you, your sisters, and Lady Serena two hours after she departed. According to the servants, a footman left around eight this morning to carry out the task. It’s nearly ten o’clock. I should have thought you’d have received yours by now.”
“I left home around eight to…attend to some business.” Just as he’d promised Charlotte only a few hours ago, he’d made an early morning trip to Doctors’ Commons to procure a special license that would allow them to marry within the week. “And then I came straight here to talk with Charlotte, and try to resolve our disagreement.”
Hurst gave him a pointed look. “Must have been quite the disagreement for Charlotte to decide to jilt you and flee town. I don’t mind admitting I was shocked by her actions. Stealing off at first light isn’t Charlotte’s style. I can’t recall her ever indulging in similar dramatics.”
“It’s my fault. I upset her. More than I realized, apparently.” Frustrated, William ran a hand through his hair, at a loss for the best way to proceed. Like Hurst, his first inclination was to go after her, and make her tell him what lay behind her refusal, because he knew there was something. And once he knew, he could find a way to persuade her to marry him.
He had to find a way to persuade her because the thought of not having her in his life was too unbearable to contemplate.
“I don’t intend to intrude on this lovers’ quarrel,” Phillip Hurst said. “But I will give you a piece of advice. And while I admit I’m not a man who knows much of anything about females, I do know my sister. Go home. Read her note. If she cautions you against coming after her, heed it. For a few days, at least. She can be intractable if she gets her back up about something, but once she cools down, she’ll be willing to listen to reason.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” William said. “If she offers me no such prohibition, I intend to depart this afternoon for your estate and settle things between us. If she bids me not to follow her, I will consider your counsel, but I can’t promise I will follow it.”
“You must do as you see fit, Norwood. But let me offer another reason to delay following after her. You may need to stay and control any gossip that arises from her sudden departure. If you give the impression it’s merely a lover’s tiff, not a permanent break, it might blow over quickly, provided you can patch things up with her.”
William nodded as a sudden weariness overtook him. The last thing he felt like doing was putting on a brave face for the ton, to act as if this was only a little quarrel, a slight misunderstanding even, knowing it was anything but that. “I’ll let you know what I decide to do. I’m going home now. If you hear from her…if you think of any reason to explain her actions…contact me. Even though we quarreled, I never expected her to do this. Refuse to see me this morning perhaps. Refuse to see me for the next few days even, but not leave entirely.”
“If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know. As for her reasons, I expect they will remain a mystery unless she chooses to divulge them.”
Phillip offered again to pour them both a drink, but William declined, eager to get home where Charlotte’s note should be waiting for him. He made his farewells, again exhorting Hurst to share any news about Charlotte immediately, including her safe arrival at Chartwell.
However, watching the familiar streets of Mayfair roll past as his coachman drove him back to Berkeley Square, William’s eagerness began to flag, replaced with a growing sense of unease. What had she written in her note to him?
Whatever it contained, he doubted it held any sort of explanation beyond what she’d offered last night, and it might very well be her attempt to irrevocably break the ties between them.
Two days later, still reeling from Charlotte’s unexpected jilting, William was in his study going over his steward’s report about needed repairs to the cottages of some of his tenant farmers. Or trying to. His concentration had gone all to hell, as had his appetite, and his ability to sleep in any way besides short, fitful stretches.
Based on Phillip’s counsel, as well as opinions voiced by his sisters and Serena, he’d remained in London, and tried to quell the gossip, which thanks to the scandal sheets, had spread with impressive rapidity. He’d done his best to paint their quarrel as bridal nerves on the part of his fiancée, which had led to a minor disagreement.
“I’m letting her cool off, before I do the pretty and beg her forgiveness,” he’d said more times than he cared to count in the past three days, often accompanying this statement with a wink or smirk of a smile. It was a nauseatingly jocular performance, to be sure, and if Charlotte were here to witness it, he’d no doubt she’d tell him so. But it seemed to be working. People appeared to view their separation with amusement more than anything else.
His patience with the situation, however, was fast coming to an end, since none of it amused him in the least. He did want to beg her forgiveness if that’s what it took to end this estrangement between them.
Realizing his attention had drifted off again, he turned back to his steward’s report, but he’d read only half a page before Coates appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Townshend requests an audience with you. Shall I tell him you are in?”
William hesitated, not particularly in the mood for company, but he decided a diversion from his own thoughts might be a good thing. “Send him in, please.”
A few minutes later Townshend strode into the study, a concerned look on his face. “Thank you for seeing me. I wasn’t sure you would.”
William ges
tured for him to take a seat. “We can commiserate on our troubles with the ladies in our lives. I hear you and Serena had a…disagreement.”
“That’s partly what I’m here to discuss.”
“I’m afraid if it’s advice to the lovelorn, I’m not the best person to ask.”
Townshend’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Lady Serena and I are merely friends. Or enemies. Depending on the day and whether I’ve rubbed her the wrong way.”
“I’m sure enemies is too strong of a word. I think Serena secretly likes that she can’t always bend you to her will. What was your disagreement about?”
“Miss Hurst, actually.”
Even though she was never far away from his thoughts, just hearing her name caused his heart to twist in his chest. “Oh? What about Charlotte?”
“I wanted to make sure that whatever had come between the two of you, it had nothing to do with that trip she and I made together to The Golden Pineapple. But Serena told me I should mind—”
The statement brought William to his feet. A cold fury consumed him at the thought that she’d gone anywhere with Townshend and he was just now hearing about it. What else didn’t he know?
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Townshend said, warily eyeing William. “I had a feeling she was reluctant to do so, though I advised her she should.”
“No, she did not,” William bit off. “Pray do rectify that.”
“I knew you’d be angry,” Townshend said. “And I don’t blame you, but let me assure you there was nothing improper about our actions. The Golden Pineapple is an inn located in Covent Garden. We went there to rescue that new maid of hers, a widow she’d hired at Serena’s suggestion.”
William slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “Why did the maid need rescuing? Particularly in a neighborhood like that so far from the environs of Mayfair?” Did this have anything to do with Charlotte leaving London?
Townshend quickly relayed the events that had led to his accompanying Charlotte to The Golden Pineapple. William didn’t say anything as he turned the information over in his mind, looking for some clue to connect it to Charlotte’s later behavior. He’d known there was something she wasn’t telling him, but was this it?
“I thought perhaps this had something to do with your broken engagement,” Townshend continued. “I didn’t want that to be what came between the two of you. But obviously it wasn’t, if this is the first you’re hearing of it.”
“That wasn’t what we argued over,” William said. “But I’m not sure that it isn’t the reason behind our argument after all.”
Although if it had any connection to Charlotte ending their engagement, he couldn’t see what it was.
“When did this trip to The Golden Pineapple take place?”
“A few days ago,” Townshend replied. “When I accompanied them back to the Hurst residence, the housekeeper mentioned Miss Hurst needed to hurry and dress for a dinner party at the Peytons’ that evening.”
“So on Monday,” William said grimly. He’d discovered she’d jilted him Thursday. Had something happened in between that visit to The Golden Pineapple and her flight from London?
“You said a crowd was gathering, and that’s why you left the maid behind.”
Townshend nodded.
“Did you recognize anyone in the crowd?”
“I wasn’t really focused on those in the crowd,” Townshend said. “We were on Oxford Street, so there were shoppers, some tradesmen, servants…just the usual assortment of people you’d see out and about. I remember Lady Biddle and her daughters were there, watching with mouths agape.” He closed his eyes as if trying to picture the scene.
“Was there anyone else from our circles there?” William asked.
Townshend frowned and shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t remember…” His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “I do recall seeing Pemberton’s carriage. With those distinctive red spokes, it’s hard to overlook. So he had to be in the area.”
Upon hearing that, William was almost certain Pemberton had something to do with Charlotte’s behavior. How he figured in the picture, he couldn’t fathom. The evidence up to now was largely circumstantial, but that did nothing to dispel William’s hunch the blackguard had a hand in this.
“Do you think Pemberton’s mixed up with whatever provoked the argument between you and Miss Hurst?”
“Let’s just say I strongly suspect he’s tried to cause problems for us before.” He came to his feet. “But it’s past time I get to the bottom of this and find out if my suspicions are correct.”
Townshend rose as well, clearly recognizing William’s action as a dismissal. “I hope this leads to a reconciliation between you and Miss Hurst.”
“That makes two of us,” William said.
An hour later, William’s carriage was pulling up to Pemberton’s residence. On being told by the butler that Pemberton wasn’t at home, William replied, “Really? That’s odd. Because I saw his carriage being brought around from the mews, and the man himself peeping out from one of the front windows.” He stepped around the butler into the entryway. “Obviously, he doesn’t wish to receive me. Nonetheless, please be so good as to tell him, he will see me now. I’d prefer not to force my way in, but I’m perfectly willing to if that’s what it takes.”
The butler gave a stiff bow. “Very good, my lord.”
Two minutes later William was ushered into Pemberton’s study.
“Well, now that you’ve so rudely interrupted my morning, have the decency to state your business quickly. I was just getting ready to leave for an appointment.”
“With pleasure. Time spent in your company makes my skin crawl. I’ve come because of what you said to my fiancée, Miss Hurst.” This was a shot in the dark since he was still operating on conjecture alone.
A wariness crept into Pemberton’s expression. “I should have known she’d come running to you rather than do as I asked. I warned her there would be consequences. If that’s what you’ve come about, you’re too late. The latest issue of Tattles and Rattles About London should be out later to—”
His sentence remained unfinished because William crossed the room and grabbed Pemberton by his lapels, hauling him from his chair and pushing him hard against the built-in bookshelves that ran across the side of the room behind Pemberton’s desk. Some books dislodged and fell on the floor around them. Pemberton glared at him and made a futile attempt to free himself from William’s grip, but William regularly sparred at Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon, and was far more athletic than the other man. A hint of fear crept into Pemberton’s gaze.
“I don’t know what trick you’re trying to pull this time, but I suggest you make sure the latest issue of that gossip rag doesn’t appear later today. Buy every damn copy yourself if you must. And henceforth, don’t you ever approach her again.” He gave Pemberton a long, hard shake. “Ev-er. Is that clear?”
Pemberton glared at him, but nodded.
William let him go, stepped back, and tugged the cuffs of his jacket back into place. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. And make sure that not one copy of the current Tattles and Rattles goes up for sale.”
Directing a last look of disgust at Pemberton, he turned and walked toward the doorway. When he reached it, Pemberton spoke. “After that I expect I’ll be calling at Liverpool’s office this afternoon,” he said in a mocking voice. “It may have him questioning your judgment after he hears about the antics of Miss Hurst and a certain gentleman.”
William turned back, and saw that Pemberton’s bravado was fueled by the fireplace poker he now held in his hand. No doubt her trip to The Golden Pineapple was the threat he’d held over Charlotte to cause her to bolt.
“Don’t bother. Lord Huntington and I have an appointment with him in half an hour, at which time I intend to tell him the truth about how my engagement started, and about your more recent threat to embarrass my future wife. It may, or may not, cost me any chance of receiving the chair
manship, but it will undoubtedly destroy any hope you have of getting it.”
* * *
Charlotte wandered about the gardens of Chartwell snipping off dead flower heads, pruning back rosebushes that really didn’t need to be pruned, jerking out any weeds she came across—although the gardener at Chartwell was annoyingly efficient at his job, so there weren’t a great many weeds to pull. It was becoming increasingly hard to justify the time she spent out here, because, honestly, there wasn’t much for her to do.
It didn’t stop her from coming though. She needed to occupy her time somehow, and reading was presently a futile occupation because she simply couldn’t focus her mind on the words. She’d quit trying to deal with her correspondence, since she ruined nearly every page with teary ink splotches because, while she hadn’t been able to cry at first, the tears came frequently now.
That’s why she sought refuge in the solitude of the gardens. At least here she could cry in peace without having to see the pitying looks on the servants’ faces.
She blinked back the current crop of tears threatening to form.
If you can’t think of him without crying, then don’t think of him, you ninny!
Although she knew very well she might as well try to stop the sun from rising in the morning. No matter how hard she tried to put William out of her mind, it was impossible. He commanded all of her heart, so was it any surprise she couldn’t excise him from her thoughts?
Her steps faltered as her hand automatically went to her abdomen. It was too early to tell, but she should know soon if a baby was a possibility. Her courses were fairly regular, and by her reckoning they were due next week.
She’d known before their night together there could be a risk of pregnancy. She wasn’t ignorant of the facts of life, but she’d believed the risk to be a small one, given her parents’ struggles to start a family, and since her parents had both been only children, it wasn’t as if there was a family history of fecundity.
The funny thing was she wasn’t quite sure whether she would view the coming of her courses (or, conversely, their absence) with disappointment or relief. She’d struggled with that question since she’d come home. There was a part of her that loved him so desperately that she would be overjoyed at the prospect of a baby.
Not the Kind of Earl You Marry Page 30