by Ella Quinn
“The pearls, my lady?” May asked.
“Yes. They will be perfect.”
Charlotte attached the earbobs while her maid clasped the necklace. A silk ribbon with small pearls attached had been threaded through her hair.
Once May handed Charlotte her reticule and draped a Norwich shawl over her shoulders, she looked in the mirror and nodded. She was ready to face Lord Kenilworth and his mother.
As soon as she figured out where the drawing room was. Old houses were always difficult to navigate.
A knock came on the door and Jane poked her head in. “I thought you and I might go down together.”
“Do you know the way?” Charlotte asked hopefully.
“No.” Jane laughed. “I hoped to find a footman or maid.”
Charlotte opened the door wider. “The worst that can happen is they’ll have to send out a search party.”
“No need for that.” Lord Kenilworth stood in the corridor, smiling at her and Jane. “I have come to escort you. Lady Charlotte?” He held out one arm. “Mrs. Addison?”
They each placed a hand on an arm. She did not want him there, but this was her first opportunity to behave as she ought. “Lead on, my lord.”
“The house is not as much a rabbit warren as some, but there are a number of rooms.”
“I would love to tour it someday,” Charlotte said. Although she doubted she would be there long enough. Without question, his lordship and his mother had a great deal to keep them busy.
“I’d be happy to show you the house and gardens tomorrow.”
Now she’d stepped into it. “I would love to.”
“If you do not mind,” Jane said, “I would like to see the house and gardens as well.”
Charlotte sent up a prayer of thanks for helpful cousins.
“Not at all, ma’am. It is my pleasure.” He sounded as if he really meant it, which surprised her.
Perhaps she had been right after all, and he would be glad to be free of her.
Then again, her sister always said that one caught more flies with a spoonful of honey than a gallon of vinegar. Not that she wanted him to catch her, nor did she wish to be drawing caps at every turn, and there was his mother to consider.
After descending the grand staircase, turning right, then strolling down another corridor, they finally reached the drawing room. It was just as light and lovely as the other rooms.
Lady Kenilworth was already sitting next to the fireplace with a glass of wine in her hand. “Welcome, Mrs. Addison.” Lady Kenilworth set her drink on a small marble-topped table and rose. “My dear Lady Charlotte, how wonderful to see you so well rested.” Her ladyship held out her hands to Jane and Charlotte. “Will you have wine or sherry?”
“Sherry, if you please,” Charlotte replied.
“I as well,” Jane agreed.
Lord Kenilworth poured, handing them their glasses.
“Kenilworth has told me about your betrothal. I cannot tell you how happy I am. A toast.” Her ladyship smiled beatifically. “To your betrothal. You do not know how long I have waited to have a daughter.”
Even though she had not said a word, Charlotte felt like the worst sort of impostor.
Charlotte had just taken a sip of sherry when Kenilworth retorted drily, “I am only two and thirty.” Though at the moment he sounded more like thirteen. “And you already have three daughters. Surely you have not forgotten them.”
Despite her vow to behave perfectly, she could not stop herself. “How dare you speak to your mother in such a way?” Her grip tightened on the stem of the glass as she fought to keep some control over herself. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, my lord, and thank your good fortune that you still have a mother.” Kenilworth and the marchioness turned their startled gazes to her. Oh, Lord. What had she done? “Forgive me,” Charlotte said, vastly more contrite than she expected to be. Her nerves must be more frayed than she thought. “I should not have spoken. My mother died several years ago, and I miss her every day.”
“I know exactly how you feel, my dear.” Lady Kenilworth hurried to Charlotte, giving her such a sympathetic look that she had to force herself not to burst into tears again. “I too lost my mother when I was young. I do not believe one ever forgets. Constantine”—the marchioness’s chin rose—“I approve of your choice of wife and as far as I am concerned, nothing else matters.”
Oh no! She had not defended Lady Kenilworth to gain the woman’s approval in a marriage Charlotte had no intention of making.
Yet, now what was she to do? She could not allow her ladyship to continue under the misapprehension that she would marry her son. She would have to explain that she did not truly have to wed his lordship.
She tried to ignore what her cousin had said. “It is a temporary engagement only. I am sure that under the circumstances, his lordship would agree that ending our betrothal in late summer or autumn is in both of our interests.” She forced herself to smile at the others. “By then the events will all be forgotten.”
“I disagree,” Kenilworth said in what she was recognizing as his normal highhanded tone. “I have no faith that Braxton will not tell everyone and his dog that you and I were seen early in the morning appearing disheveled.” Lord Kenilworth glanced at his mother. “The fact that neither of us were at the inn last evening is easily proven.”
That was tricky of him. Worse, he might be right.
Although, why he would want to marry her, Charlotte could not even guess. “I am sure that once my sister and brother-in-law have returned to Town, they will post here immediately. I suggest that we wait for them to finish this discussion.”
“I agree. We shall leave it up to Worthington and your sister.” He took a sip of wine and smiled at her.
It was almost as if he knew something she did not. Yet, neither Matt nor Grace would ever make Charlotte marry where she did not wish. Of that she was certain.
Chapter Ten
Burt spent most of the morning and afternoon following any trail he could find of Lady Charlotte and Lord Braxton. Unfortunately, it was not until he was backtracking through a tollgate that he had any luck. The man collecting tolls was not the same one Burt had seen that morning.
Taking out the coins, he asked, “Don’t suppose you seen a lady and a gentleman come through before dawn?”
The older man took the money. “That I did. Thought it was strange seeing them so early. This ain’t London.”
“Any idea where they went?”
“Only one town of any size round here, that’d be Blackwell.”
Burt tipped his hat to the toll keeper. “Thanks for the information.”
It took him another two hours before he reached the town. The streets were lined with more sporting vehicles than he’d ever seen in one place.
Tables were set up outside two inns, and young men and boys ran in and out carrying pints of ale.
He grabbed one of the boys. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Boxing match. Finished not long ago.”
Bugger it. That wouldn’t make his life easier. How the hell was he to find a gentry-mort and a gent with all these toffs around? “Been here all day?”
“Na.” The boy’s eyes didn’t stay still as he scanned the crowd. “Only here to help serve. I work with the horses.”
Damn, he might catch a break after all. “Ever heard of a Lord Braxton?”
“Wish I’d never heared his name.” The boy spit on the ground. “Didn’t even give me a ha’penny for takin’ good care of his horses.”
Burt fished a guinea from his pocket, handing it to the lad. “He here now?”
“Na.” The coin disappeared. “Had a pint an’ left for London.”
Which is exactly where Burt would go. Finding a toff in Mayfair wasn’t nearly as hard as finding one roaming around the country. The mort’d be there too. Probably where he snatched her in the first place. This time she wouldn’t get away.
“Get me a pint and some food.”
Grinning, the boy ran
off. Morning would be time enough to find Lady Charlotte and take her to Miss Betsy.
* * *
Late the following morning, Con was in the library when his mother’s butler scratched on the open door. “My lord, Lord and Lady Worthington have arrived. I have taken the liberty of ordering tea. Would you like me to inform her ladyship that Lady Charlotte’s family is here?”
“Not yet, Dalton. I wish to speak with Lord and Lady Worthington first.”
“As you wish, my lord. I shall show them in.”
A few moments later, the Worthingtons were announced. For a moment, Con was shocked to see how much Charlotte’s sister looked like her. Would her ladyship have the same aversion to him as Charlotte did? He found himself holding his shoulders more stiffly.
“Kenilworth, thank you.” Worthington turned to the lady next to him. “My dear, may I introduce you to the Marquis of Kenilworth? Kenilworth, my wife.”
“Yes, indeed.” Lady Worthington smiled warmly. “I cannot thank you enough for rescuing my sister.”
“There is no need to thank me, my lady. I assure you, any gentleman would have done the same.”
“By God, man.” Worthington held out his hand and Con clasped it. “I’m not sure anyone would.”
Lady Worthington took a seat on the sofa, and Worthington took the place next to her. Although her face was drawn, she sat calmly with one hand in her lap and the other held by Worthington. When the tea tray arrived, she poured. “Cream or milk, my lord?”
“Milk and a lump of sugar.”
While she prepared her husband’s cup, he said, “I received the letter from you, and my wife received letters from Lady Bellamny and Charlotte.” Con nodded. “When we arrived back in Town yesterday, Mr. Addison informed us that his wife was here with our sister. Naturally, I went to Brooks’s to discover if any gossip had made it back to Town.” Worthington grimaced. “It had.”
“Braxton?” Con pressed his lips together. “That was to be expected.”
“How is Charlotte doing?” Lady Worthington asked with a concerned look.
“As well as can be expected. I believe Mrs. Addison’s presence is helping.”
“I would like to see my sister now.” Her ladyship finished her tea and rose. “I will leave this discussion to you gentlemen.”
Con rang a crystal bell, and the door opened.
“My lord?”
“Please escort Lady Worthington to Lady Charlotte’s chamber. After that, inform my mother that we have additional guests.”
After the door closed, Worthington said, “In her letter, my Charlotte said she would not wed you. Although she did not mention the reason. Have you been able to convince her otherwise?”
“No.” Con held up a decanter of brandy and Worthington inclined his head. “She still maintains that any man who keeps a mistress is abusing women, and she will not marry such a man.”
“Hell and damnation.” Worthington rubbed his face with his hands. “If only there had been a way to keep the stories about the brothel from her, she wouldn’t have even known about demireps. She is—” He paused for a moment. “I cannot say she is impressionable, but she tends to still view the world in terms of good and bad.”
Con had most definitely fallen into the “bad” category. He handed his friend a glass and took a sip of his own. “I do not suppose anyone would have mentioned to her that not all ladybirds are unhappy.” Worthington raised a brow. “No, of course not.” Con took a breath. “If you have any ideas how to change her mind, I’d be happy for a hint.”
“Unfortunately, I will have to leave that up to you.” Worthington held up his glass, looking at the amber wine. “I am told you have a great deal of charm. Surely you can find a way to make yourself acceptable to her.”
“I’m glad you have confidence in me.” Con wanted to groan. “At present, I can’t even get her alone. She is clinging to her cousin like a limpet.” He took another drink. “She also thinks you will support her desire not to wed me.”
Shaking his head, Worthington replied, “That is not an option she has open to her.”
“No, I didn’t think it would be. There is something you should know. Miss Betsy was behind the abduction.”
“Blast the woman!” Worthington raked his fingers through his hair. “I would have thought she’d have fled to the Continent. One would think she’d have learned her lesson.”
“Apparently not.” What Con had to say next would disturb his friend even more. “She’s back to her old tricks, abducting children and young women.”
“Does Charlotte know?”
“She was there. I should also add that the innkeeper who was helping Miss Betsy, and his family, think she is rescuing runaways and returning them to their families.”
“I must notify my cousin. He was part of bringing her bawdy house down.” Worthington was quiet for a moment, then grimaced. “Please tell me that Charlotte has not expressed an interest in helping save the latest victims.”
For the love of Heaven. That is something of which she was eminently capable. And Con had been worried she would try to make it back to Town on her own. What a fool he was. “Not to me, but she did send a letter to Lady Merton.”
Worthington took a large drink of brandy. “I hope you don’t mind more guests. The minute Dotty Merton discovers Charlotte is not in Town she will insist on posting here.”
“Not at all. In fact, I think my mother will enjoy it a great deal.”
“I would like Charlotte to remain here. She will be safer. Grace and I will have to return. We have the other children to care for.” Suddenly he grinned. “We’ll take Cousin Jane with us. Perhaps seeing Dotty and Merton together will make Charlotte think again about refusing your offer.” Worthington played with the cup in his hands, rotating it slowly. “We have all been concerned about Charlotte’s feelings, but how do you feel about this betrothal? You were not in the market for a wife. In fact, as her brother and guardian, I must insist you cease to continue keeping the type of company you have been.”
Con had known his life would change, yet he hadn’t given it much thought. Not that he expected to continue to keep a mistress or attend the types of entertainments he had frequented. Still, to hear it from his friend brought the transformation he’d have to make crashing down on him. The strange thing was that he was not concerned about it. It was what he had expected to do when he married, in any event. “I am not unhappy about the betrothal.” He might not have wanted to marry yet, but he was not going to allow Charlotte to jilt him. No woman had ever left him and she was not going to be the first. “As a matter of fact, I look forward to it and my reentry into Polite Society.”
“Good. Then I hope to welcome you to the family.”
The question was, would Con be able to court Charlotte with her friend about? Or would she use Lady Merton as a shield?
* * *
Just as Charlotte had returned from a stroll in the old Elizabethan knot garden, a knock sounded on her bedchamber door and her sister strode in, holding out her arms.
Without a thought, Charlotte ran into them. “Oh, Grace, I have made such a mess of things.”
Stroking Charlotte’s hair, her sister murmured, “How like you to take responsibility for events over which you had no control.”
“No, but I made everything much worse.” She sniffed. “If I had not got down from the carriage and insisted on walking back to the inn, no one would have seen me or Lord Kenilworth. Then there would be no issue of a betrothal. But I could not trust him enough to remain with him. At the time, all I could think of was getting away.” She backed up a step and gazed into her sister’s eyes. “I cannot marry a man like him.”
“Hmm.” Grace’s lips pursed. “He would seem to have a great deal to recommend him. May I ask the reason?”
“He has a mistress.” Most likely more than one at a time, and who knew how many women he had used.
“Ah. I see.” She stared at Charlotte for a few moments, concern writ on her
face.
At least her sister understood. In fact, she was the only one who seemed to comprehend how she felt. “I thought”—she left Grace’s embrace and began to pace—“that if I simply waited, any talk would die down. That would work, would it not? I mean, scandals do go away.”
“Some do. It depends entirely upon the circumstances.”
Her sister’s tone was thoughtful, and for that Charlotte was grateful. At least Grace had not dismissed her idea out of hand, as Kenilworth had done.
Grace continued. “I must tell you that Matt heard some talk at his club, but, naturally, we shall not know exactly how far the rumors have spread until we return to Town.”
Charlotte did not want to be the subject of gossip. Dotty had had to go through that and it was not pleasant. “Perhaps if we went straight to the country—”
“No.” Grace’s tone was so firm, Charlotte did not even consider arguing. “Fleeing will only spur the rumors on. The sooner we face what awaits us, the better. We shall leave here tomorrow.”
“I think,” Matt said, strolling through the open door, “Charlotte should remain here where she will be safe. We can send Dotty and Merton down as soon as they arrive in Town.”
Grace seemed to consider his suggestion, then shook her head. “I am afraid that would appear strange. If Charlotte and Lord Kenilworth were truly betrothed, our visit would not appear out of the way. However, for us to return to Mayfair without her would be seen as odd.”
“But—”
Grace cut him off. “She should do what any young lady who has just contracted a betrothal would do.”
“And that is?” he asked slowly, in a wary voice.
“Go shopping,” Grace pronounced emphatically.
“Shopping?”
Charlotte couldn’t tell if it was dread or doubt in Matt’s tone.
“Indeed.” Grace’s eyes began to sparkle. “Although Louisa, Dotty, and I all wed so quickly, there was not a great deal we could do—”
“That was not how it seemed to me,” her husband muttered.
Her hand fluttered, dismissing his statement. “Nevertheless”—she speared him with a look—“while we are still in Town, and since the purpose is not to have a quick ceremony, she must be seen to be putting together her trousseau.”