“Look again, study the landscape, and tell me what you see,” Charlotte insisted with a stern voice.
Albert frowned at Charlotte’s command but eventually relented to participate in the exercise. A full minute passed as he studied the menagerie of life on the sidewalk outside the dirty window. One word finally left his lips in a gloomy tone of voice.
“Hopelessness.”
“Astute observation,” Charlotte agreed. “Do you have an ounce of empathy in your cold soul, or does all that lecturing about good society feed your revulsion? Believe me when I say there are good and kind people among the poor of London.”
“How can you call them good?” Albert replied harshly with a disagreeable glare. “They are vagabonds, thieves, prostitutes, and filthy children.” His right nostril rose showing his loathing to the scene out-of-doors.
“Let’s turn the tables, Beckett. Let’s pretend you were not born into a well-bred aristocratic home but are the product of a prostitute and will never know your father. The lower-class society in which you arrived was not your choice. Instead, cruel fate has chosen your lot. Your belly is empty, and hopelessness, as you so astutely remarked, surrounds you. Will you crawl into the gutter and die, or will you do anything to survive?”
He thought for a moment. “I cannot imagine such a scenario would befall me,” he flatly replied.
“You are a pompous ass,” Charlotte reiterated, shaking her head. “In all your uppity education and moral high road, you have no idea what it means to go hungry or to sleep on the streets. You think I have much to learn. Frankly, I think teaching you a thing or two about life beyond your narrow view may be an impossible task.” She slurped a sip of her ale, returning his disgusted glare.
“I take offense when you call me a pompous ass,” he shot in return. Albert’s lips pressed into a straight line.
“All right, then prove to me you are not.” Charlotte glanced at the window and nodded at a flower stand across the street. “See that little girl selling flowers? I want you to walk over there right now, purchase me a bouquet, and then give her a gold crown in return rather than the shilling she will ask for in payment.”
He considered the challenge for a moment and then queried, “Will the child be able to count the change?”
Charlotte’s mouth dropped open at the stupidity of his comment. It took her a moment to reply to his asinine expectation. “You will give her a crown and expect no change, or this entire fiasco between the two of us will end here and now.” Angry at his stupidity, Charlotte strove to keep her twitching hand on the tabletop rather than striking it across his clean-shaven face.
Suddenly Albert took a gulp of ale, shoved back his chair, and got to his feet in haste. “As you wish,” he spat, turning on his heel. Albert flung open the door and stomped across the street, dodging the horse manure on the way to the flower stand.
Charlotte watched as he spoke to the little girl. She picked a bunch of flowers and handed them to Albert. When he shoved his hand into the pocket and brought out the crown, giving it to her, the little girl stared at it without saying a word. She spoke, Albert replied, and instantly her arms wrapped around his waist. The girl buried her head in his chest.
Taken back by the reaction, Charlotte was surprised to see he had a soul after all when his arms wrapped her in return. When she finally released him, Albert spoke something that caused her to smile.
Impressed at the outcome, Charlotte awaited Albert’s return with flowers in hand. He approached, handed her the bunch, and sat down.
“Satisfied?”
“Be candid with me, Albert,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Did you hug her out of honest emotion or merely as a show to impress me?”
He hesitated as if he didn’t want to admit anything. “She appeared to be grateful for the coin. Frankly, I didn’t expect her to fling her arms around me. I merely reacted in surprise.”
“Well, now, I think today has been productive for the two of us, don’t you think?”
“That remains to be seen if any of my earlier lectures made an impact on you,” he replied in a sarcastic tone.
“Well, drink your ale and let’s order something to eat. Enough talk about society for the day.” She paused and looked at him. “You better get your suit cleaned without delay. The young girl probably had lice in her hair and left a few friends in the fabric.”
If only a photographer could have taken a candid picture of the horror on his face, it would have been worth every moment of her wretched morning lesson.
Chapter Five
The Gentlemen’s Club
Albert planned to meet Cedric the following day to give an update on his first meeting with Charlotte. After yesterday, he felt intellectually exhausted. His most significant concern, after she dragged him into the bowels of depraved civilization, were the other locations and escapades Charlotte would insist he partake in to make a point.
As he entered the sitting room, he spotted Cedric lounging in a chair, reading the newspaper. Claiming an empty seat to the left, he sat down and immediately pulled his attention into a conversation.
“Have you heard anything from your cousin about yesterday?” Cedric slowly lifted his head in response to the inquiry, scowling at the interruption.
“Well, good day to you too, Albert,” he snidely replied. “Have you lost your sense of politeness after the first day with Charlotte? Where’s the friendly introductory greeting?”
“I’m sorry,” Albert replied, shaking his head. “I’m still recovering.”
Cedric let out a husky laugh that caught the attention of the gentlemen in the room. Like moths to a flame, they surrounded the two of them to hear of Albert’s escapades with Charlotte.
“Did you lay with her yet?” Lord Grafton asked, placing his hand on Albert’s shoulder and squeezing it.
“For heaven’s sake, no,” he shot in return. Albert eyed them in disgust. “Do you gentlemen mind returning to your seats so we can have a private conversation?”
Cedric encouraged the hungry gossips. “I’ll be taking wagers later. Give us a moment alone.”
“Fair enough,” Sir Walton replied.
As they departed one by one, Cedric leaned in Albert’s direction and spoke in a low tone. “Well, it appears you survived. What did the wench do to you yesterday? You look exhausted.”
“Speaking with your cousin is like talking to a stone sculpture,” Albert remarked. “She listens to me, but I can tell she doesn’t give a damn and has no intention of changing. The little wheels in her head are turning around like some sinister invention ready to chop me up into a thousand pieces.”
A waiter walked by, and Cedric halted him. “Get Lord Beckett a whiskey. The man needs a drink.”
Without skipping a moment, Albert continued. “We were discussing what constituted good society, and the next I know she’s talked me into taking a carriage ride to continue the conversation elsewhere. We ended up in Whitechapel of all places,” he angrily reported. “I honestly was afraid for my life when we arrived.” Out of breath and upset, when the waiter returned, Albert snatched the glass and brought it to his lips and took a gulp. His statement didn’t seem to surprise Cedric in the least.
“She goes to Whitechapel at least once a month, if not more, which has always been the concern of the family.”
“What in God’s name for?” Albert pressed angrily with a wobbly voice.
Cedric set down the paper he had been reading on the side table. Glancing around the room to make sure no eavesdroppers were nearby, he answered. “She volunteers at the Salvation Army at one of their food charities, filling bowls with soup and handing them out to the needy.”
“What?” His voice croaked. Albert’s response echoed through the parlor, and heads turned. “Why in the world would she do such a thing?”
“Charlotte is a complicated woman, Albert. Frankly, she’s an enigma of sorts. I’m acquainted with her strange comings and goings.”
“Did her husband k
now and approve of this activity?”
“He didn’t know,” Cedric replied. “Charlotte is quite capable of deceit when it works to her advantage. She probably told him a bold-faced lie about having tea with a friend.”
“And her parents have no objection?”
Cedric raised his brow in answer, reminding him they were not the pillars of social behavior.
“Yes, of course,” Albert answered. He brought the whiskey to his lips and pondered the revelation. At last her prodding to give the flower girl a gold crown made perfect sense. Perhaps he should think her actions admirable but thought them foolish to put herself in danger.
“Surely if she wanted to help the poor, a mere donation once a month to the cause would suffice. Why does she feel it necessary to insert herself physically into such dismal surroundings?”
“I don’t know,” Cedric admitted. “You will have to unearth that peculiar part of her personality yourself.” After taking a sip of his drink, he inquired further. “So what did you do in Whitechapel?”
“She took me to The Ten Bells for a drink of ale of all places.”
“Isn’t that where—”
“Jack the Ripper,” Albert interjected with a tremor rolling down his spine. “She thought it an exciting place to be.”
Cedric chortled at his answer. “And was it exciting, ole chap?”
“Well, at that point, I was ready to murder her myself,” Albert amusingly admitted. “Instead, she sent me across the street to buy her a bunch of flowers from a little girl and insisted I give her a gold crown in payment.”
“She is something else.” Cedric shook his head. “And did you?”
Embarrassed the situation touched him in any way, Albert confessed in a whisper. “Yes. The young female urchin was grateful.”
“She’s testing you.”
“And what else will she do to me?” Albert asked with his face etched in a worrisome frown.
Cedric’s smile faded. He took a moment to search Albert’s eyes. “Already she has you in a defensive stance. I thought you were the man who could tame her. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“Well, I—”
Cedric interrupted. “If you don’t turn this around and take charge of the situation, she will have you licking her lips in no time. Believe me, she flaunts her flesh like candy, and I fear you are already in a weakened state of mind.”
“Now look here, Cedric. Your cousin will not seduce me,” he ranted. After raising his voice, Lord Grafton and Sir Walton returned for the discussion.
“I heard someone say seduce, which naturally piqued my interest,” Lord Grafton quipped, taking an empty seat next to Albert. “Are you having trouble controlling your gaze of her plump breasts?” He chuckled.
Offended by the question, Albert lifted his chin in the air and replied in a firm tone. “My eyes are quite capable of remaining above the neckline.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Cedric began, “are you placing your bets upon this upstanding man of character, Albert Beckett, or my cousin, the outrageous and gorgeous Charlotte Rutherford?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Lord Grafton thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his money clip. “I’ll place my money on Charlotte,” Lord Grafton replied with a smirk while glancing at Albert.
“And you, Sir Walton? Have you given up on me as well?” Albert asked in a miffed tone of voice.
“Not entirely,” he replied. “I’ll wager you reform the young lady to some extent, just to spite Grafton here.”
“Fifty-fifty,” Cedric noted. “We need more gentlemen to enter the pool.”
“And what of you?” Albert pressed, glaring at Cedric. “Shall you place your bet upon Charlotte or me?”
“I’m afraid, Albert, I should side with family. However, that is not to say I do not wish some of your efforts to succeed where my cousin is concerned, so I put my trust in you.”
“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence,” Albert snidely remarked.
“So what is next on your agenda?” Cedric asked, leaning forward with interest.
“This evening it’s opera and afterward the theater,” Albert replied.
“And what do you hope to accomplish by taking her to the opera?” Sir Walton inquired. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“Naturally, we will be working on her social skills,” Albert confidently remarked.
“And then she’s taking you to the theater?” Cedric asked wide-eyed. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”
“Well, not entirely,” Albert replied. “I’m assuming it will be some play at the West End.”
Cedric roared with laughter. “Oh, dear, you have much to learn.”
CHARLOTTE LOUNGED IN a hot bath, surrounded by the scent of her perfumed soaps. The water relaxed her body as she laid her head back on the rim of the claw-foot bathtub. Albert would arrive in the next two hours to drag her into a social interaction at London’s Royal Opera House. For two hours she would be tortured by a screeching soprano and bellowing tenor probably dying on the stage in the last act.
Yesterday, however, proved a valuable point. Albert Beckett reeked of self-importance. “Pompous ass,” she declared. Her description of him had been offensive to his delicate personality. It felt good to say it. In all his lecturing that morning, it had been her lesson that won the day. In fact, the bunch of flowers he had purchased for her sat in a vase near the tub. Hopefully, the poor flower girl and her family ate a cut of meat for dinner after receiving the crown.
Unlike others in her social class, Charlotte had no qualms about inserting herself for a worthy cause into Whitechapel. Her mother had instilled those values, having come from a poverty-stricken background. Different from the stuffy aristocrats who could not see beyond their class lines, Charlotte understood people were all the same. It was society that classified every breathing human being as worthy or unworthy. And to be frank, she enjoyed the company of the lower class more often than the social circles Cedric had been intent on shoving her into using Albert’s pushy hand.
Nevertheless, the game was afoot. Charlotte intended to succeed in her bid to seduce Albert and disgrace him in the process. Yet the thought of having intimate relationships with a male whose personality nauseated her would be a trial. Beckett probably didn’t know the first thing about giving a woman pleasure in bed.
“Now what qualities did Mr. Pompous teach me that I should observe?” she mused aloud. Charlotte squeezed the soapy sponge down the length of her arm, smiling as she recalled the words.
“I must have a perfect command of temper, good manners, and a good bearing this evening.” Charlotte lifted her right leg and slowly drew the sponge from her foot up to her thigh. “Yes, I have indispensable qualities, so I’ve been told.”
She rose from the tub and patted her wet skin with a fluffy towel. “Oh, Albert, I shall cast aside your operatic attempt to change me with a roaring rendition of suggestive burlesque at the Gaiety Theatre. You’ll love rubbing shoulders with the common folk who love to gawk at women in tights.” Like a little girl about to play a devious ruse upon an unsuspecting boy, she flashed a wicked grin at herself in the mirror. Manipulating the male sex brought her enjoyment.
Chapter Six
From Opera to Burlesque
Albert dressed in his tailcoat, bow tie, and donned his top hat to set out for the evening. The Royal Opera House had been performing Carmen for at least a month, and though it had not been one of his favorites on stage, no other choice remained.
As his carriage pulled up to Charlotte’s residence in Kensington, she stood on the stoop, waiting for his arrival. Surprised by her actions, he wondered why she had not remained indoors. It also gave rise to his curiosity about her dwelling and what, if anything, she was hiding. Perhaps hospitable behavior was another point he needed to cover.
She approached dressed in a gold silk evening gown. To Albert’s surprise, the bodice had a decent neckline compared to the revealing red dress worn at the musical soiree
. At least her breasts wouldn’t be in his peripheral vision the entire evening. Rather than the stylish puffy sleeves that were the current fashion, Charlotte’s dress bore short lacy sheaths, which matched the trim of her bodice. She looked quite stunning with an emerald necklace and earrings.
“Hospitality.” Albert decided his lesson for the evening would begin with the obvious. “It is rude to greet me on the front step of your residence rather than inviting me in for a moment.”
“Perhaps to you, Lord Beckett, but I barely know you. At this stage in our relationship, I prefer to protect my privacy.”
“Well, hopefully, as our interaction continues, I will eventually receive a warm reception rather than a closed door.”
“Perhaps. Time will tell,” Charlotte remarked, pushing past him to the open carriage door. She climbed in and settled directly in the middle, giving him no room to sit next to her. Albert took the opposite seat and watched her avert direct eye contact. As the carriage jolted forward, she spoke.
“So what operatic masterpiece shall I be subjected to this evening?” She tilted her head, casting an impatient glance.
“Carmen,” Albert replied. “Not my favorite.”
“Well, that’s a fascinating choice to breed good society in me this evening. It’s a rather curious tale of young men, cigarette factory girls, gypsies, and smugglers.”
“Yes, and with a violent ending of her rejected lover stabbing Carmen to death. A fitting outcome,” Albert coolly added, “for an unlikeable woman.”
“Oh dear,” Charlotte drawled. “I do hope you do not have a dagger up your sleeve, for I fear I could be next.”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I don’t believe violence solves anything.” He turned his head and glanced out the window.
“So, any points on behavior this evening? Have I dressed modestly to your liking?” Charlotte flashed an insincere grin in his direction.
“I’ll be introducing you to a few of my peers as an acquaintance and nothing more. I do expect your temperament to remain calm, your words to be few, and your demeanor to be poised. Do not speak until I introduce you.”
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 32