by Ella Quinn
His back teeth started grinding again. “Mother, if you would allow me to continue.”
Raising one brow, he waited. A few moments later, she inclined her head. “Very well. You may go on.”
If only he could think of a better, more amenable way to put this. But he couldn’t. “It appears I compromised Lady Charlotte—”
“You did what?” His mother’s face flushed with anger. “Kenilworth, how could you do such a thing? And how could it appear that you compromised her? Either you did or you did not.”
Thankfully, Lady Bellamny cleared her throat . . . loudly. “If I may?” She paused for the briefest second, then carried on without anyone’s permission. “Kenilworth was passing Worthington House yesterday when he was called upon to aid Lady Charlotte, who had been abducted.”
His mother gasped, holding her hand to her bosom. “Oh, the poor dear.”
“Precisely.” Lady Bellamny nodded. “He followed her to an inn where she was being held captive and rescued her.”
Mama smiled. “That was extremely clever of you, Constantine.”
He gave a shallow bow, and waited for her ladyship to continue.
“He was unable to return her to Town before this morning, and they were seen by two worthless fribbles, entering an inn.” His mother looked as if she would interrupt once more but held her peace. “One of whom would not hesitate to blacken both Lady Charlotte’s and Kenilworth’s names. Naturally, as a gentleman and a peer, Kenilworth is prepared to do his duty.”
“I think both you and Lady Charlotte were extremely brave,” his mother said. “It is a wonder she was not suffering from strong hysterics when she arrived.” Mama took another sip of tea, all the while gazing at him with a calculating look in her eyes. “As you know, I wished for a love match for you. However, there is no reason why you cannot make her fall in love with you. You are very charming when you wish to be.”
Except for the fact that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
“I am well pleased that you have behaved as a gentleman should—not that I would have expected anything less—and, as you know, I shall be happy to finally have grandchildren.”
How his mother could completely ignore that his sisters had given her four grandchildren she doted on, was beyond him. She probably meant an heir but did not want to say it.
“What I would like to know is, how do you feel about this?”
Mama’s question shook him out of his thoughts. How did he feel?
At first, infuriated that he was being put upon. Then he’d seen how truly distraught Charlotte was, and lost much of his ire. As wrongheaded as she was, at least she believed passionately about the rightness of her cause. And where there was such passion, there was an opportunity to direct it into more appropriate avenues. She was not afraid to express her mind. That, though, was a double-edged sword that was currently being held to his neck.
Her innocence was refreshing, as was her honesty. He could do much worse and most likely not a great deal better. The only real problem was that she could not stand to be around him.
“She is beautiful, intelligent, and will make me a fine wife and marchioness.”
His mother nodded.
Now was the time to tell her Lady Charlotte was not as sanguine about this situation as he was. “However, I am afraid she is not as pleased about our betrothal as I am.”
Mama’s eyes hardened into emerald shards, and he hoped it was in defense of him. He was her only son after all. “Does she think she can do better than Kenilworth?”
“I think she could do better,” he retorted, attempting to lighten Mama’s mood. “That, however, is not her complaint. She objects to my keeping a mistress.”
“For Heaven’s sake, Constantine!” Mama threw up her hands. “What on earth were you thinking of to mention your mistress to her? Have you been avoiding Polite Society for so long that you have forgotten how to behave? Unmarried young ladies should not know—”
“I was not the one who brought up the subject.”
“Then how did she know?” She asked as if she did not believe him.
Con swiped a hand down his face. “She saw me at the theater.”
“Well”—his mother blinked a few times, as if digesting this information—“That is of no consequence. You will simply assure Lady Charlotte that you shall give up your ladybird, and indeed, have already done so in your mind.”
He wished to God it were that simple. “She has stated she will not wed a man who has kept a mistress.”
“How absurd.” His mother waved her hand dismissively. “It is the way of our world for gentlemen to keep mistresses. Even your father had one”—Mama’s face and lips lowered into a frown—“before he met me, of course. After that . . . there was no need.”
Mama glanced at Lady Bellamny, who shook her head. Good, at least someone knew Charlotte was not going to be so easily reassured. “Unfortunately,” he said, “Lady Charlotte was made aware of the deplorable conditions in which some unfortunates are kept. Eventually, she will come around.” Lord, he hoped so.
“I suggest waiting until her sister and Worthington arrive to broach the subject. In the meantime”—Lady Bellamny rose—“I must return to the inn. Even though I left him a note, my husband will be wondering where I’ve got to. He left shortly before Kenilworth and Lady Charlotte arrived to view some rock formation or another.”
“And I,” Con said, straightening, “am for my couch. Lady Charlotte is not the only one who was deprived of a night’s sleep.” He dropped a kiss on his mother’s head. “Lady Bellamny, allow me to escort you to the hall.”
They were halfway down the corridor when her ladyship said, “I wish you luck. I have a feeling you are going to need it. From what I have seen, Lady Charlotte is quite loyal, to her family, her friends, and her beliefs.”
“I have no doubt you are correct.”
“As there appears to be a boxing match in the village, I shall inform my husband we are returning to Town today.” She sighed. “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to return home. He only came to Town to present a paper and has remained much longer than I expected. Be that as it may, I shall do my best to make your road easier.”
“Thank you.” It would not suit Con to have his wife hie off to Town if he wished to remain in the country, but the Bellamnys obviously had an arrangement that suited both of them.
After seeing her ladyship off, Con made his way to his bedchambers. Yet, rather than falling into peaceful slumber, he tossed and turned, punching the pillows more than once.
Visions of Charlotte attempting to make her own way back to Mayfair from here kept intruding into his more delightful dreams of making her his. It was, after all, inevitable. Therefore, he might as well enjoy it.
Logically, he thought she was too intelligent to do anything that stupid. She must know that bawd and the blackguards who had abducted her would be searching for her. From what he’d heard of Miss Betsy, she would be extremely unhappy that her tool for avenging herself on Worthington had got away.
Giving up on sleep, Con tried to remember what exactly he had heard about the procuress. He’d been at one of the French-style drawing rooms his mistress, Aimée, liked to hold. It must have been shortly after the destruction of Miss Betsy’s brothel. One of the other Cyprians knew one of the prostitutes who had worked there. It appeared that even the women who went voluntarily were being held against their will. More by the supposed debts they owed to Miss Betsy than anything else. That type of arrangement was, unfortunately, not unusual. Or so he had been told.
What had been disturbing were the claims of innocents and ladies being forced to work at the bawdy house, as well as the use of opiates to subdue them. This last bit he did not believe at all.
He punched his pillow again. Naturally, everyone had heard of country girls coming to Town and being lured into prostitution. He had even met a few, but once settled they were perfectly happy in their profession.
&nb
sp; All of which begged the question of why Worthington had put Miss Betsy out of business. Or the reason Charlotte would have been told anything at all. What had possessed him to do something so ill advised as to mention a brothel to an innocent young lady?
That was something Con would not discover until his friend came to fetch Charlotte, which brought his overactive mind back to the problem at hand, keeping the lady safe and, more importantly, here where he could not only look after her, but convince her to wed him.
For despite the circumstances surrounding his betrothal, and for reasons he did not fully understand, he found himself looking forward to having Charlotte in his life and in his bed.
Chapter Nine
“Do you want me to wake her up, ma’am?” May’s whisper pierced Charlotte’s sleep.
“No, I shall sit with her until she wakens.” That sounded like Jane.
Charlotte heard a rustle of skirts and a soft whoosh as her cousin sat in a chair next to the bed. She should really tell them she was awake, but try as she might, her eyes wouldn’t open. How strange.
Sometime later, someone was gently shaking her. “Charlotte, sweetheart.”
Goodness, it was Jane.
“You must awaken, or you’ll not be able to sleep tonight.”
Opening her eyes, Charlotte rubbed the sleep from them. The curtains had been pulled back and sunlight poured into the bedchamber. “How long have you been here?”
“About two hours. It is well past noon.” Even though Jane smiled, a worry line had formed between her brows. “I shall call for May, and she can order a nuncheon to be brought for you.”
Just then, Charlotte’s stomach growled. This morning, her stomach had been so tied in knots she had only eaten a piece of toast. Now she was famished. “A large nuncheon, please. I am quite peckish.”
Her cousin’s smile grew and the worry line disappeared. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Swinging her legs over the bed, she picked up Collette. “Is Hector here?”
“No, he wanted to come with me, but I thought it might be better if he remained with the children.” Jane took the kitten from Charlotte while she went into the garderobe. “Worthington’s butler sent for us shortly after . . . yesterday afternoon. As soon as we knew where you were, I wrote to Grace suggesting she and Matt come directly here. But in the event they do not receive my missive in time, Hector will be able to tell them where we are.”
That meant at least another day or two with Lord Kenilworth and his mother. Charlotte bit her lip to keep from saying anything and went behind the screen, pleased to see that her soap and toothbrush were there.
A few minutes later, May scratched on the door and entered, scanning Charlotte before holding out her robe. “I’m so glad to see you, my lady. I’ve got your pale green gown ready after you finish eating. Let’s do your hair while we’re waiting.”
That was surprising. She had expected May, if not Jane, to mention the abduction. Apparently, neither of them wished to mention the event.
Sitting at the dressing table, Charlotte watched as her maid twisted her hair into a neat knot high on her head.
“Do you still have your gold earbobs?”
“They are on the nightstand. I took them off before going to bed.”
“Ah, I see them.” As soon as Charlotte had donned the jewelry, a knock came on the door, and May gave her another big smile, much as Jane had earlier. “That’ll be your nuncheon, my lady.”
Charlotte stood at the window taking in the view of the garden while her maid arranged the dishes.
“Doesn’t all this look good,” May said, and for the first time Charlotte heard the forced cheerfulness in her maid’s voice.
She could almost see the worry in May’s eyes, much as Charlotte had seen the line between her cousin’s brows. Something was going on, but what? They were both treating her as if she were a fragile porcelain figurine and would fall apart at any moment.
The door closed, and she ambled toward the table where Jane had already taken a seat and tucked into the food. Charlotte was halfway finished eating, when it occurred to her that neither her maid nor her cousin were going to bring up what had happened. It was up to her to allay their concerns.
“I am fine, Jane. I really am. Lord Kenilworth helped me escape before anyone could harm me.”
Jane set down the cup of tea she’d been drinking. “Charlotte, on our way here we stopped at an inn for directions. While the coachman was getting them, I heard two gentlemen discussing your betrothal to Lord Kenilworth. Are you truly betrothed? Neither Lady Bellamny nor Lady Kenilworth told me you had got engaged, but what brought about the talk?”
Charlotte twisted the napkin in her hands. “Lord Braxton and another man saw us enter the inn. Lord Kenilworth told the landlord we were betrothed. Then Lady Bellamny appeared and she asked him if he was going to do his duty and marry me.” The concern in Jane’s eyes had not lessened. “I do not wish to wed him, and I do not believe he wants to marry me. While I slept, a plan came to me. I will simply remain betrothed until sometime in the summer, after any talk dies down. Just like Dotty was going to do before she fell in love with Merton.” Jane’s countenance became graver than Charlotte had ever seen it. “It will be fine. You’ll see.”
Yet, from the look on her cousin’s face, she was beginning to think all might not work out as she wished.
Reaching over, Jane patted Charlotte’s shoulder. “Let us not make any plans now. Grace will be here soon.”
A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine. “What are you not telling me?”
Several moments passed before her cousin replied, “Due to the nature of your clothing”—last night it had looked as if she had slept in it, which she had—“there is a rumor that you and his lordship were trysting this morning.”
No doubt started by Lord Braxton, yet Jane might not know the source. “But Lady Bellamny—”
“Oh, yes. The gentlemen accepted that her ladyship was with you, but they are under the impression the two of you stole away to be alone.”
Blast, blast, and blast! Now what am I going to do?
Denying the rumor would be useless. Charlotte was well aware of what her sister and her friend had done with their husbands before their vows. Lady Bellamny had told Charlotte what Lord Kenilworth had said to Lord Gerald about having an accident with the phaeton. Obviously, despite what Lord Kenilworth thought, Lord Gerald or, more likely, Lord Braxton hadn’t believed the story.
“We did not,” she objected as strongly as possible. “We had been traveling and before that, I’d been thrown into a coach. He only said we were betrothed to save my reputation.”
“Yes, my dear.” Jane patted Charlotte’s hand. “I believe you, and Matt and Grace will believe you as well. The problem is that once gossip such as this starts, it is almost impossible to stop it.” Her cousin pursed her lips together. “And he did say you were to marry. That would give rise to speculation that something was going on as well.”
“This is so unfair.” Charlotte wanted to wail, but she refused to give in to such childish behavior.
“I understand.” Jane was quiet for a few moments as she sipped her tea. “I do not know Lord Kenilworth, but Lady Bellamny thinks well of him. I know you want a love match, but are you sure you cannot wed him?”
Oh, God! Not Jane too! “I cannot.” Charlotte wondered how much to tell her cousin, and decided if she wanted help, she’d have to tell the whole truth. “He abuses women.”
Tea spewed from Jane’s mouth before she could grab her napkin. “What?” Her shocked expression was everything Charlotte could have asked for. “Charlotte, how on earth do you know that?”
“Before Louisa married, we attended the theater with her and Rothwell. Kenilworth was there with not one but two courtesans.”
Jane’s brows rose. “That does seem a bit excessive.”
That was not exactly the response Charlotte expected. “Do you know about the brothel that Dotty Merton found?” Jane
shook her head. “Well let me tell you what Grace and Dotty told Louisa and me.”
She related how ladies had been abducted to work in prostitution and when they refused had been made to take opium. “All because men wanted to buy their bodies and use them.” Charlotte’s voice shook with rage. Then she added her pièce de résistance. “And do you know what Lord Kenilworth said when I chastised him for keeping a mistress?”
“No,” her cousin said slowly.
“He said it was a business arrangement.” She hiccupped and blinked the moisture from her eyes. Still, everything was blurry. “Those poor women. A business arrangement.”
She had barely got out the last word when she burst into tears.
Jane wrapped her arms around Charlotte and patted her back. “We will think of something. I promise you.” Her cousin helped her up and back to the bed. “It would be best if you lie down for a while longer.”
“You may be right.” She hardly ever cried. Not since her mother had died and she discovered it did no good. “Perhaps I am more tired than I thought.”
* * *
Charlotte woke a few hours later feeling much calmer, the bout of tears having worked to rid her of her excess emotions. She rang for her maid, who arrived several minutes later.
“We didn’t know if you’d be up or sleep through the night.”
“Have I missed dinner?”
“No, my lady. You have enough time to dress.”
While her maid worked, she made a few decisions.
First of all, she must behave like the lady she was. Her sister Grace would have been mortified at her conduct toward Lady Bellamny and even Lord Kenilworth. No matter the provocation, Charlotte vowed she would remember her manners.
Secondly, she would not discuss the betrothal at all, with anyone, including his lordship. Make that especially his lordship. Men could be a strange species, finding challenges in almost anything, and she was not going to be a challenge.
Lastly, she was going to find a way to have Miss Betsy arrested and save as many of the odious woman’s victims as possible.