by Ella Quinn
Fight? Bloody hell. He’d been that close to catching her in the village he’d passed through.
“Well, if she was around, it’s all right and tight,” another gent said.
“Wonder how Lady Charlotte snared him.” A man with a purple coat tossed coins at the serving maid. “He always said he didn’t like them young. Maybe I should have taken a look this year.”
“I wonder if his mistress is looking for someone new,” a tall man said.
The gent called Braxton scowled. “Not yet, she isn’t.”
“Asked her, did you?”
Braxton turned red and the rest of the crowd laughed at his expense.
Days wasted following around the wrong man. Burt didn’t even know where she’d be. He waited, hoping he’d hear something useful, but someone started talking about horse racing and they lost interest in Lady Charlotte.
Bugger all. Burt was tired of listening to them. He finished his beer and stood. There had to be some way to get to the lady.
He walked back to the tavern he’d been staying at. By the time he returned to London, Miss Betsy would know how bad he’d cocked up. He was on Queer Street now.
He should have listened to himself when he’d thought no gentry mort would be at a party like this one. What was worse, Miss Betsy’d know it too.
Burt paid his shot at the inn and started back to London. He’d have that square watched for a day or so. If he couldn’t find Lady Charlotte there was nothing for it but to write to Miss Betsy and tell her what happened.
* * *
It did not take long for Con to discover Charlotte had gone walking with Harrington during the Grand Strut. Fury was not an emotion Con was used to, but it was all he could do to keep himself from flying into the boughs now.
He had arrived at Stanwood House certain he would find his betrothed at home. Instead he was met with the information that she had gone out. Royston, the Carpenter butler, stood impassively waiting for Con to hand over his card. Yet, the sound of children began to fill the silence, and an idea came to him. “Whose permission must I have to take the children to Gunter’s for ices?”
For the briefest moment, he thought he saw a canny look enter the butler’s eyes. “Lady Worthington, my lord.” The servant stepped aside, allowing him to enter the hall. “If you give me a moment, I shall see if she is at home.”
“Certainly.”
A few moments later Royston returned. “She will see you, my lord.”
Con was escorted to a room on the opposite side of the house from the morning room and announced. Sitting behind a large desk covered with documents and ledgers, Lady Worthington waved him to a straight wooden chair with a leather seat, in front of the desk. His father’s study had a chair like this, and he had never enjoyed sitting in it.
Once he’d taken a seat, she folded her hands on the desk. “I understand you wish to speak with me.”
Resisting the urge to fidget, he nodded. “I would like to take the children to Gunter’s for ices.”
Her eyes widened. “All of the children?”
“Yes.” Con started feeling more confident. “I thought they might like a treat. I shall require a few footmen.”
“Very well.” She reached behind her and tugged a thick braided-silk rope. A moment later, the butler appeared. “Prepare the children for an outing to Gunter’s. His lordship has very kindly offered to take them.”
This time he was positive he saw Royston’s lips twitch. “Yes, my lady. I shall notify his lordship when they are ready.”
The door closed, and he glanced at Lady Worthington. “How long do you think it will take?”
“Not long at all.” She tilted her head slightly to one side. “I take it you know Charlotte is walking with Lord Harrington?”
Nothing like a full frontal attack, as his army friends would say. It must run in the family. “So I was informed.”
“Why do you wish to marry my sister?” His mind emptied of all thought, and she smiled at him. “Be assured, by paying attention to the children you are going about it the right way. However, I would like an answer.”
“We must wed.” The moment he said the words, he wanted to call them back. “I mean everyone knows . . .” That wasn’t much better.
“I agree. The circumstances are not good.” That was putting it mildly. “However, I tend to be of the same mind with Charlotte. A long engagement, a falling out, and a decision that you do not suit might work as well.” She raised one expressive brow. “If you do not wish to wed her—”
“No.” He’d leaned forward in the chair and sat back again. “I do want to marry Charlotte. I am not able to put my reasons into words”—none that Lady Worthington would find acceptable—“but I am determined.”
“I will not have her made unhappy.”
“Nor will I.” Con’s back teeth began to throb again. He had thought a great deal about how he felt. Not that it had helped. He had, however, considered Charlotte’s feelings. He was going to make her fall in love with him.
A knock came on the door and it opened. “The children are in the hall.”
Rising from his seat, he bowed. “Thank you.”
Her ladyship inclined her head and went back to her books. Con followed the butler into the hall now teaming with children already in a line with the footmen.
He could barely hear himself think over the din. “Shall we depart?”
Somehow he’d been heard, evidenced by the children lining up in pairs flanked by footmen. Royston opened the door, Con stepped out, the children following along behind him, and almost ran straight into Charlotte and Harrington.
At first she appeared shocked, then a twinkle of laughter entered her bright blue eyes. “Are you going into the square?”
“In a manner of speaking. I am taking the children to Gunter’s.” Con met Harrington’s glower by raising his quizzing glass and directing it at the popinjay. “Would you like to join us?”
“I would love to.” She grinned at Con before turning to his nemesis. “My lord?”
“No. I have another appointment.” Harrington gave a stiff bow. “I look forward to seeing you this evening, my lady.”
Ha! Routed him. That was easy. The idiot clearly did not know the first thing about winning a female. Never let another man walk off with her.
“As do I, my lord.”
He enjoyed the sight of Harrington stomping down the steps. Charlotte gave Con a graceful curtsey, then took his arm. They crossed the street and made their way up Berkeley Square toward the famous tea shop. He enjoyed the way she seemed to lean a bit near him as they walked.
“What possessed you to offer to take them all for ices?” Her gaze was still full of mirth.
He thought about shamming it, but they had agreed to be honest. “You.”
“Thank you.”
Thank you? Thank you for what? Being truthful? Asking the children? What the devil did she mean, and how was he to find out? “You are welcome.”
This last was said so tersely, Charlotte glanced up at Kenilworth. A look of consternation had settled on his strong, lean face, making his brow furrow slightly, and his well-molded lips flatten. Men were such strange creatures. He had been almost playful before. What had happened?
“What is wrong? Are you regretting your largess?”
He whipped his head around. “Not at all. I like children.” His dark brows lowered. “I did not understand what you meant by thank you.”
“I am pleased that you would take my brothers and sisters out because you thought it would make me happy, and it does.” He grunted, which she supposed indicated satisfaction with her answer. “How do you plan to order the ices?”
“Youngest first.” Looking at her, he grinned. “Ladies Theo and Mary terrify me. They are already forces to be reckoned with.”
They had reached Gunter’s and he took charge, leaving Charlotte to compare Kenilworth and Harrington. During their stroll, she had asked Harrington if he had heard of her betrothal.
It had seemed strange to her that he would ask her to go to the Park with him if he had.
“You cannot really be thinking of marrying the fellow?” His astonished look had surprised her. “I’ve spent the entire Season fixing my attentions with you, and my father has approved the match.”
“I beg your pardon?” For a moment, she was too shocked to say more. After the first few weeks, he had acted as if he did not need to do anything more. Not only had he never danced with her more than once at a ball, he had only once sent her flowers. “After the first two weeks of the Season, I only saw you at balls and other entertainments. And you have spent the last few weeks in the country. That is hardly what I could consider fixing my attention.”
“There is no reason to become upset. I was busy. You must have known I planned to offer for you.” Harrington blew out a breath. “I even wrote to your brother, informing him I would do myself the honor of calling on him when I returned.”
Actually, it was more like a huff, and Charlotte’s temper rose. “Yes, you did. You did not, however, arrange to write to me.”
“That would not have been proper before I had my father’s permission.” She had never before known how much he relied on his father’s approval. “With the position with Sir Charles under discussion, I dared not make any mistakes.”
“Sir Charles?” What had Sir Charles to do with Harrington’s behavior toward her?
“Yes.” Glancing down at her, he gave a patronizing look. “I suppose you do not know. He is the ambassador to France and The Hague.”
Of course she knew, and he should know she knew from their conversation the other day.
“Naturally, as my wife, you will have to make a point to learn the people and politics involved—”
“I am well aware of who Sir Charles is. Why did you not mention it as a possibility before you left?”
“As I said, nothing had been decided, and I did not wish to get your hopes up.”
Her hopes? Charlotte was so angry she could happily kick Harrington. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility. They had reached the Park and it seemed as if everyone was staring at them. She pasted a smile on her lips. Apparently, she had been right about him not really caring about her. He merely wanted a wife. It was fortunate that she did not have to marry this Season.
“Come, come,” he said in a tone one might use with a child. “I will speak with Worthington and set it all straight.”
Providentially, Lady Bellamny pulled up on the verge to speak with them. She was followed by several other ladies Charlotte knew, and by the time she and Harrington had arrived back at the gate, she was in charity with, if not him, the rest of the world.
“I should return home.”
“If you wish.”
It was during that part of the walk she noticed he never used an endearment when speaking with her, or told her how he felt about her. He also minced, making her slow to his step as if he thought she was walking too quickly, and the muscles in his arms were not as hard as Kenilworth’s muscles. That thought startled her. Charlotte had never noticed a man’s muscles before. Why would she care about them now?
She wondered if Harrington would have come to the house when the children were ill, as Rothwell, Louisa’s husband, had, but Bentley, Harrington’s friend who had thought himself in love with her, had not. “My youngest brother and sisters contracted the measles while you were gone.”
“How horrible.” His words were correct, but his tone indicated that he did not care.
“I helped nurse them,” she added to see his reaction.
“Rest assured when we have children you will do no such thing.”
She knew many mothers relied on their nurses and nursemaids, but Charlotte could not imagine not being with her children when they were ill.
They strolled up the steps to her house and the door opened, causing her to almost walk into Lord Kenilworth. . . with the children lined up behind him. Once again, Harrington was pouting like a small child and had refused to accompany them to Gunter’s.
Charlotte savored the taste of the lavender ice. On the way here, Kenilworth’s arm had flexed under her fingers, and she’d enjoyed the feel of his strength. Then he had said he had done this for her. It was time to discover if he was the one.
She handed her dish to Hal, one of their footmen. Kenilworth was wiping Mary’s hands with a piece of linen.
“I like him,” Theo said. “You can marry him if you’d like.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte held back the giggle burbling up. “I do not yet know if that is what I want to do.”
He handed the cloth to one of the footmen, who returned it to the tea shop, then strolled over to them. “That was the last of them.” He grinned at her and she smiled back. “I hope I haven’t ruined their dinner.”
Theo ran back to her footman, and Kenilworth held out his arm to Charlotte.
“I think they will be fine,” she replied, taking his arm.
When she returned, she would ask Grace to invite him to dinner before the next ball.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Charlotte and her sister visited Madam Lisette the modiste to whom they had been giving their custom.
“I wish you happy,” Madam said as she spread out drawings over a long table. “I ’ave ’eard of your engagement.”
As had everyone else in the ton. “Thank you, Madam.”
Sleep had not come easily last night. Every time Charlotte thought she would surrender to Morpheus, another thought invaded her mind. Lord Harrington had shown himself to be someone other than what he had pretended to be when they had first met. Apparently, the attentions he had paid to her early on—pretending interest in her brothers and sisters—were not how he intended to behave as a husband. If he actually got around to proposing, she would reject him. Although, he would most likely not take no for an answer. That would be awkward.
Yet, were Kenilworth’s attentions real? If they were, could she love him, and could he love her? Why did he wish to wed her in the first place? Perhaps, for her, there was another gentleman entirely.
She gave herself a shake. No matter what happened or failed to happen, she was getting a new wardrobe. That was something to be happy about.
“What do you think of these?” Grace asked.
Charlotte looked at a carriage gown in Spanish brown—a color that looked well on her—and a walking gown in damascene, a deep plum. They would be perfect for autumn. Although, whether she would be allowed to wear them if she did not wed was another question. “They are lovely.”
Madam showed her several other designs, including evening gowns, ball gowns, and day dresses. By the time she and her sister left, the order exceeded what had been purchased for the Season.
Deciding to simply enjoy the excess, Charlotte took out her list as Grace gathered up swatches. “The milliner next, then the shoemaker.”
Later that morning when they returned home, Charlotte’s spirits were much restored. She walked into the hall and stopped. Flowers filled the round walnut table, and both front parlors. “Where did these come from?”
Royston held out a silver salver with two cards, one from Lord Kenilworth and the other from Lord Harrington. The butler cleared his throat. “Lord Kenilworth arrived shortly after you left this morning. There is a note on the back of his card.”
Picking it up, she turned it over.
Will you do me the honor of saving me two waltzes at Lady Pennington’s ball, to include the supper dance? Please.
C.
She would send him her response later. “What does this have to do with the bouquets?”
“Lord Kenilworth brought the first bouquet.” He pointed to a lovely arrangement of Provence moss-roses, which were her favorites, mixed with nigella and ivy. “Lord Harrington arrived before his lordship departed.” She took the other card.
I would like to stand up with you for the supper dance at Lady Pennington’s ball tomorrow.
G. Earl of Harringto
n
This was an easy decision to make. Kenilworth had asked first, and more politely. “Let me guess, Lord Harrington sent a bouquet as well.”
“Indeed, my lady. The red roses are from him.”
“Well, that accounts for two of the arrangements, but there must be at least ten of them.” As well as the marigolds, delphiniums, and lupus. He was obviously guessing as to what she liked, yet how had Kenilworth known . . . Of course, the children had told him. More importantly, he had obviously inquired. “Fifteen, my lady. Thus far, Lord Kenilworth has the advantage by one. They have been arriving every hour. Mrs. Pennymore has run out of vases.”
“Poor Pennymore. What a position for a housekeeper to be in.” Grace collapsed onto one of the chairs, and began to laugh. A few moments later, she took out her handkerchief and mopped her eyes. “The flower war,” she gasped before another peal of laughter erupted. “Matt was right. They are vying for you.”
“Yes.” Charlotte dropped into the other chair, unable to believe a rivalry was occurring over her. “But what are we going to do with all these bouquets?”
* * *
Other than their ride in the Park, this evening would be the first time Con and Charlotte would appear together in public. During the past few years he’d shunned these types of events—where young ladies and gentlemen expected to find matches—but now found himself looking forward to the evening.
He looked once again at the reply to his request to stand up with her tomorrow evening. It would be the second time, tonight being the first, that he would have two dances with her.
Dear Lord Kenilworth,
I would be pleased to grant you the supper dance and one other waltz.
Regards,
Lady Charlotte Carpenter
Or, perhaps, he was merely looking forward to having Charlotte in his arms during the waltz, and on his arm for as much of the rest of the evening as he was able. A thought that pleased him more than it would have a few days ago.