by Ella Quinn
“I see.” And a great deal more than Elizabeth understood. Lord Kenilworth would have already known his mistress’s story and was most likely wishing for some quiet that he would not find at home.
His mother had taken one look at the Pulteney, one of the best hotels in Town, and declared she would rather stay at Kenilworth House, so there would have been little peace there. Charlotte almost felt sorry for him.
“Gavin said Kenilworth also refused to go with several of them when they left Brooks’s to find other entertainment.” Elizabeth cast her gaze to the ceiling. “Whatever that means. He will never tell me. However, he most likely means gambling hells and other forms of low entertainment.”
Charlotte had a very good idea what that meant, and her esteem for his lordship grew a little more. “I am not sure I would wish to know.”
“Very true,” Elizabeth remarked unconvincingly. “You said Lord Harrington has returned?”
“He has.” Charlotte studied her friend for a moment. “He has asked to speak with Worthington.”
“Oh.” Her friend’s face drooped.
“Are you interested in him?”
“I might be.” Elizabeth’s tone was evasive. “Are you?”
This was a pickle. Charlotte wanted her friend to find a husband, but was it Harrington? She did not wish to stand in the way of Elizabeth’s happiness. “I am not sure.” Elizabeth gave Charlotte a sharp glance. “It is complicated.”
“We are about to be descended upon. If you like, we shall discuss it later.”
“I would like that.” She smiled as if relieved. “Thank you.”
She and Elizabeth smiled politely as a group of ladies surrounded them, and Charlotte was besieged by well-wishers with questions for which she did not have convincing answers.
Fortunately, a few minutes later Grace beckoned, and Charlotte was able to excuse herself.
When they arrived in the hall, Lady Kenilworth was smiling contentedly. “I have not had so much fun in a long time. Almeria was correct. I should spend more time in Town.” Their carriage arrived and the ladies were handed in. “Charlotte, my dear, did you hear that news of your betrothal is all anyone is speaking of? It has even eclipsed Lady Jane Summers’s marriage to Mr. Garvey. The Garveys are an old and well-respected family, but to allow Lady Jane to throw herself away on such a fellow . . . well, I do not know what her mother was thinking. She could have done much better.”
“Their grandparents’ estates run together, and they have known each other for years.” Charlotte saw no reason to inform Lady Kenilworth that Jane’s parents hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Everyone had thought she had set her cap for Merton, but he was merely a diversion until she confirmed she was breeding and could wed the man she loved. “I received a letter from her when I returned. She is extremely happy being married to Mr. Garvey.”
“She had better be,” her ladyship responded laconically. “There is no changing her mind now.”
That was true. Marriage was forever, or until one person died. Which was a very good reason for Charlotte to be as sure as she could be of Kenilworth and her feelings for him, as well as his for her. She should also discover if she had feelings, other than friendship, for Harrington. At this point, she wasn’t sure how she felt about either man. It was as if Harrington had appeared merely to muddy the water. On the other hand, perhaps it would help her make the right decision. Then again, once he heard about her betrothal, he would most likely turn to another lady. Mayhap she could help Elizabeth.
Charlotte sighed to herself. Even in Pride and Prejudice, the book she had just finished reading, the hero and heroine did not get on immediately.
That thought made her feel better. Her mother used to say things always worked out for the best. I hope so, Mama.
* * *
Con lightly drummed his fingers on his desk. He had summoned his man of business and was growing impatient with the man’s questions. “Suffice it to say it is a debt of honor. If you cannot see to it, I shall find someone who will.”
“No, no, my lord.” For the first time Sutton appeared ill at ease. “I was merely attempting to convey . . . I mean . . . but a debt of honor. I understand.”
Sutton had originally been hired by Con’s father because Sutton did not defer to every demand without ensuring a scheme was in the best interests of the marquisate. However, Con’s promise to Aimée, at least as he saw it, meant that his man of business must be kept ignorant of some of the details.
“I shall see to the accounts immediately. Where do you wish me to send the documents?” Sutton asked.
“To me. Draw up papers to convey the house on North Row as well.”
Sutton sat up straighter. “That is a fine property, my lord, even if you will not be using it as you have been.”
“Now that I am betrothed, I would rather see it gone.” Con had stilled his fingers, but impatience continued to flow through him.
He wanted this business completed as rapidly as possible, and not just for his former mistress’s sake. Charlotte had warmed considerably after he had told her what he’d done. Her brother had said the family would leave in less than two weeks, and he was determined that Charlotte would be his wife by then. This idea she had of pushing their wedding off, or not having it at all, was intolerable. He wasn’t going to be jilted by the first lady to whom he was betrothed.
It was clear Charlotte had something of a romantic nature. Why else would she not care about more than his rank and wealth? He would spend as much time with her as possible, getting to know her, and charming her. Before long, she’d fancy herself in love with him and he would get her to church before she had time to change her mind.
As far as Con knew, none of the other gentlemen, aside from Harrington, had succeeded in courting her. If only that dammed cawker had not shown up, Con’s way would be much simpler. Damn the pup for thrusting a spoke in his wheel. He’d just have to find a way to cut the man out.
“Very good, my lord,” Sutton responded, apparently having given up the argument. “I shall have everything to you in the morning.”
“Excellent.” Con straightened the documents on his desk as his butler opened the door and Sutton took his leave. “Webster.”
“My lord?”
“Have my phaeton brought around in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Con leaned back against the soft leather squabs of his chair. Today would be the first time he and Charlotte had been alone since the morning he rescued her. Although to be fair, he’d merely given her a method of escaping. She had managed to foil the procuress’s plans without his assistance.
He admired her independence, except, he thought ruefully, when she was challenging him. Well, if he wanted her, and he did, he’d have to become used to her strong will.
A half hour later, he strode up the steps of Stanwood House.
The butler opened the door and bowed. “I shall inform Lady Charlotte that you have arrived. Would you like to step into the front parlor?”
And be out of sight and, possibly, out of mind? “No, thank you. I shall wait here.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Several minutes later, Charlotte stood at the top of the stairs, a vision in a turquoise carriage gown of grosgrain silk trimmed with yellow ribbon. Pearls dangled from her shell shaped ears. “I apologize for taking so long. I was having difficulty—” A gray streak raced down the stairs and sat at the door. Her eyes narrowed. “Collette, who let you out?”
“We’re sorry, Charlotte.” Lady Theodora leaned over the rail.
Charlotte came down the stairs, scooped up the cat, and handed it to the butler. “Please see that she is put back in my parlor.” Only then did she turn to him. “We may leave.”
Con glanced at the small feline who seemed to always be around. “Does she usually go everywhere you do?”
“I take her when I drive my carriage. She does not seem to understand that she may not accompany me today.”
Something was wrong . . . not quite right with what she’d said. He mulled over her statement. “I would imagine there are many times when she is not allowed to go with you.”
“Not really.” The words came out in more of a mutter. “What I mean is that early in the Season, Matt decided we, Louisa and I, would be better served to drive ourselves. This is only the second time I have ridden in a gentleman’s carriage. I believe you will remember the first time.”
Interesting. “And you always bring the cat . . . Collette? She doesn’t attempt to escape?”
“Yes, Collette. All the kittens have names beginning with C. And no, she is almost always with me. The breed travels quite well. Lord Merton has her brother, Cyrille, and he frequently rides with him.”
Con had heard of dogs in carriages, the most famous being “Poodle” Byng’s dog. But a cat? Then again . . . “I have no objection to Collette coming with us.”
Charlotte’s countenance brightened as she took her kitten from the butler. “Please send for her harness.” She looked at him with what he hoped was new interest. “Thank you, my lord. I assure you she will be perfectly behaved.”
He had his misgivings, but remembered how well the kitten had traveled in the basket. Until he’d stuck his hand inside—he still had some faint scars from that encounter—he had barely known she was present. “I have no doubt she will be showing off her best manners.”
The harness arrived, and they were shortly on their way, the cat sitting snugly between him and his betrothed.
He feathered the turn from Berkeley Square onto Mount Street.
“Do you have pets?” Charlotte asked.
She had been stroking the cat and occasionally one of her fingers would lightly touch his thigh. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he survived the ride around the Park with his sanity intact.
“Hunting dogs.” His voice sounded rusty as Con tried to rein in his rapidly rising lust. “I attempted bringing one into the house when I was around six years of age, but my mother wouldn’t have it.”
“Oh, dear.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her lips pitch downward and sought to reassure her. “You need not be concerned. If we marry, you will be mistress of all my properties . . . our properties.” She still seemed unconvinced. “My mother does not live at my principle estate, and if she wishes to visit Town, she can stay elsewhere if she does not like house animals. I intend to ask Worthington if I may have one of the puppies.”
That did the trick. Charlotte’s smile returned and she glanced at him. “I am sure he will be glad of your offer. As much as we all love Duke and Daisy, we will have to find homes for their progeny.” They rode in silence for a few moments before Charlotte commented, “It is a shame you are not closer to your sisters.”
As close to her brothers and sisters, even her sisters by marriage, as she was, Con knew she would eventually bring up the subject of his sisters. She might even be concerned that he would not wish her to maintain close ties to her family. “My youngest sister, Annis, Lady Kendrick, and I write, but she is still five years older than I am and her family takes up much of her time.”
“Do you have nieces and nephews?”
“Yes. Five nieces and six nephews.” Thinking of them made him smile. Annis’s children were much nicer than the children of his other sisters. Not that he knew the others nearly as well. “The ones I know the best are Annis’s. The oldest, a boy, is fourteen. Then there is a girl, thirteen. Another boy, eleven, a girl, nine, and the youngest boy is seven. They live about a half day’s travel from my mother. I usually make a point of visiting either before or after I see Mama.”
Charlotte had turned in the seat so that she was facing him. “What of your other sisters?”
“Cornelia, Marchioness of Westborough, is eight years my elder and Sapphira, Duchess of Stafford, is ten years older than I. We are not close.”
“I think I understand.” Charlotte’s lips formed a moue. “I have met both of your elder sisters. They are not particularly friendly.”
“That is putting it nicely.” He commended Charlotte’s kindness. His older sisters were shrews of the first order. “In my considered opinion they are both puffed up in their own consequence. You should have seen the fit they threw when Annis was allowed to marry a mere baron. They had got together and decided she should marry one of the royal princes.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. She, Louisa, and Dotty had all been presented to Queen Charlotte earlier in the Season. Two of the royal princes had been present and Charlotte had not been impressed by either of them. “Were they any better when they were younger?”
“In a word, no. She would have been made miserable. Fortunately, my mother’s good sense prevailed.”
When she had first met Lady Kenilworth, good sense was not a term Charlotte would have used. However, after having spent the early afternoon answering questions about Kenilworth, Charlotte had a new appreciation for the torture the lady had put her through during the journey back to Town. And no one who spoke to Lady Kenilworth today would doubt that her son and Charlotte had a love match, thus stopping the small bit of harmful gossip that had been bruited about and saving her reputation.
Yet, that brought her around to Kenilworth. He was turning out to be a much better gentleman than she had originally thought he was. Earlier, when he had told her about what he was doing for his mistress, she had been almost speechless at his generosity.
But could she love him? That is what she must discover before she kissed him again. “I am glad she was able to marry the man she wished to wed.”
“So was she.” He grinned. “Unfortunately, the decision caused a rift that has still not fully healed.”
“That is sad.” Although, she had still not completely forgiven her uncles for trying to stop Grace from gaining custody of her and the younger children. “I do not think something like that would ever occur with my brothers and sisters. We are already so close and there are so many of us.”
“I find your family truly enjoyable,” he said, trying to reassure her. “That type of affection is what I wish for in my future family.”
One more of her concerns dissolved. Blowing away like dandelion seeds in the wind. “Thank you. They are very important to me.”
And, equally important, could he love her? At the moment, she had a foreboding that he was insisting on this marriage because he said he would wed her, and not out of any true feeling toward her. Would a kiss show her how he felt? Dotty said it had with her, but for Charlotte it was much too soon. And there was Harrington to consider. She felt duty bound to give him a chance.
They were on the carriage track in the Park, and his attention was taken by the various vehicles, horses, and people strolling along the verge.
“Lady Charlotte.”
“Lady Jersey.” Charlotte acknowledged the Almack’s patroness’s greeting. “How nice to see you.”
“And Lord Kenilworth.” Her ladyship looked like a cat lapping cream. “I am thrilled to learn the gossip was correct. May I wish you happy?”
“Thank you,” Charlotte and Kenilworth said at the same time.
“I shall visit your sister ‘at home’ and congratulate her as well. It is not often one manages to marry off three young ladies in their first Season, and such good matches as well. Though, I suppose she has Worthington to thank for the last two.” Her ladyship gave her coachman the office to go. “I look forward to seeing you at Lady Hereford’s ball.”
Charlotte noticed that Lady Jersey had not added Grace’s wedding. “Yes, indeed.”
“If the ball will be too much of an ordeal for you . . .” he whispered, his low tone causing pleasurable shivers to caress her neck. That had never happened before.
“No. Your mother is correct. We must attend.” Charlotte studied him for a moment. “Unless it is you who does not wish to attend. In fact, I do not remember having seen you at any of the events this Season.”
“This cannot be as bad as the last on
e,” he groused, making her smile again.
“How so?”
“I shall have you to protect me.”
“Ah, from all the marriageable young ladies.” Matt had friends who attended only the entertainments they must. Even then they left early and did their best to avoid the more forward of the young ladies. In fact, her cousin Merton had almost fallen into a lady’s trap.
“And marriage-minded widows. You can’t forget them. They can be more ferocious than the matchmaking mamas.”
She wanted to let out a peal of laughter, but contained her mirth to a light giggle. “I shall make sure to keep you safe.”
He gave her a considering look, and she wondered if she had been too rash. “I shall hold you to your word.”
Chapter Seventeen
Burt had had to wait three days in Biggleswade for the London guests to show up at the White Hart where his landlord said the nob in the big house took his guests. For the past two days, he’d watched the group of toffs swill ale, but there was no sign of Lady Charlotte or the gent. Where the devil could they have gone?
Two yallow-haired whores went around behind the inn, and one of the gents called out, “Braxton, I’ll trade you for a day.”
The game pullet sittin’ next to the man punched his arm. “Don’t think you can share me. I stick with the gent I come with.”
“I’m satisfied with what I have,” the man called Braxton said.
Braxton. That was the name of the gent who took off with Lady Charlotte, but the one here didn’t look like the nob at the inn.
Bloody hell! Burt swore under his breath. He’d been gammoned. And he didn’t have a clue where to find her ladyship. Miss Betsy weren’t going to be happy about that.
“Did you hear Kenilworth is getting leg-shackled?” a toff with red hair asked.
The rest of the gents perked their ears up.
“Thought it would be years before he became a tenant for life. Who’s the female?”
Red called for another round of ale. “Lady Charlotte Carpenter. Worthington’s sister-in-law. It’s her first Season.”
“I could have told you that,” Braxton groused. “I saw them the morning of the fight I attended before I came here. Looked smoky to me, then I saw Lady Bellamny was there too.”