Charlotte did her utmost to play her part as solicitous hostess but her mind would keep wandering. She had tried to ignore it, indeed she had inwardly spoken most sternly to herself, but it was of no use. The truth could not be denied. She was disappointed. Perhaps her hopes had been a touch unrealistic although she had not expected him to swoon on sight of her. Nor had she hoped for Sir James Caraddon to fawn upon her as young Tom Carter had insisted upon doing all evening, and greatly annoying her in the process. Nevertheless she had expected some kind of response. A word perhaps, an arm to lead her to the table, even a glance of admiration across it. But no. Nothing. Whenever she looked his way, Sir James Caraddon seemed to stubbornly avert his gaze. What a very disagreeable old man he must be. The ladies, however, thought otherwise.
‘Isn’t Sir James an absolute dear? Would that he’d been around when my Katherine had been single,’ mourned Mistress Holborn with evident regret.
Old Mrs Lovelace snorted in derision. ‘And what be wrong with your new son-in-law, Nancy? Not fancy enough for ye, eh?’
Mistress Holborn leapt quickly to the defence of her daughter’s somewhat unexciting husband, anxious to rectify her mistake. ‘Nothing at all. He is the very best of sons, ideal for my Kate. You can be sure we are mightily pleased with him. But, in truth, Sir James Caraddon is a rare bird that any mother would welcome, admit it, now,’ she coaxed, helping herself to more coffee.
‘Aye, rare indeed. He do lead some of those London ladies a merry dance, I do hear.’
Margaret Holborn’s eyes widened in gleeful anticipation. ‘Indeed? What do you hear?’
Upon one breath the assembled group of country women leaned closer. There was nothing they loved better than a good tale, and old Mrs Lovelace, who had little better to do than exchange tittle-tattle, was not one to disappoint them.
‘I do hear tell that he be as good as engaged to one Lady of Quality but that she’ll not have him until he do have a better position in them government circles or some such.’ Old Mrs Lovelace wagged her two chins up and down for emphasis. ‘Mind, it be unlikely that such a small matter as a ring would keep him the wrong side of her door, I do think. He’m a man, after all.’
All of the ladies agreed that he was indeed. Charlotte said nothing.
Mrs Lovelace glanced back over her shoulder before edging closer to the conspiratorial circle. ‘But then there’s some as says that this particular Lady of Quality don’t lock it for no one, given the chance.’ There was a small shocked silence as they each savoured this delicious piece of news.
Mrs Carter, being the mother of four fine sons, felt it her place to be the first to voice the opinion of the assembled company. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Well, I never.’
‘That’s what widowhood brings you,’ finished Mrs Lovelace, as if the lady had only herself to blame for the condition. ‘Tis said that, like the Duchess of Devonshire who exchanged kisses for votes at the last election to get Fox back in, this Lady would do at least as much for Sir James.’
‘At least as. . .’ Mrs Carter could not conclude her sentence.
‘Quite so. Quite so. Only it seems that he don’t see it. Won’t hear a word against her, so besotted is he.’ The old lady sank back into her cushioned seat with a sigh, well satisfied that she had entertained her audience most royally.
‘More coffee?’ Charlotte’s quavering voice broke into the ensuing silence but not a single lady heard her. She refilled her own cup and, forcibly shutting out their chattering voices, pondered on whatever had possessed her to hold a birthday party for the neighbours at all. Though, to be fair to them, they had little enough excitement in this quiet spot so who could blame them if, on being presented with a prime candidate, they took advantage of it? Charlotte wished, not for the first time that evening, that Sir James Caraddon had never entered her life, and that he would just as quickly leave it. A small voice within her told her with perplexing satisfaction that this was unlikely to happen, yet she could not for the life of her have explained why she felt so pleased about that. She wanted him gone, didn’t she?’
* * * *
The gentleman in question was suffering a considerable degree of confusion himself. Ever since James had watched Charlotte walk down those stairs he’d been hard put to it not to stare at her like some besotted youth, and he was certainly not that. There were enough of those here already. First Dickon, then Tom Carter, not to mention at least two of that young man’s brothers, all fetching and carrying for her like a pack of pups in training. Yet he could understand their behaviour, to a degree. Even when James had walked along the cliff top with Charlotte he’d been surprised to find himself enjoying her delightful chatter and regretted having offended her.
All through the meal James had felt her eyes upon him, almost willing him to look at her, as if she did not have enough adulation already. The worst of it was that he wanted to look at her - very much. She was not beautiful. He kept telling himself that, though she was fetching enough in a rustic, honest kind of way. No more than a child so how could she hold any attraction for him? James preferred his women more mature and sophisticated, and preferably without any inclination or availability for matrimony. Charlotte Forbes, in his assessment, was the very opposite of all these criteria.
He was willing to offer what advice he could for dealing with this windfall of hers, but nothing would induce him to become further embroiled in her problems in any way other than financial.
He watched her now as the gentlemen joined the ladies in the parlour, flitting from one guest to the other, a pink and cream butterfly newly emerged from its chrysalis but still too immature for full flight. Yet how he would love to see her when she was ready to take on the world. Her bright young face was smiling as she listened as if riveted to yet another boring yarn from the Carter boy, and then, sensing James’s gaze upon her, she looked straight at him and the smile imperceptibly changed in a way he found hard to define. A sensation swept through him, devastatingly close to desire, and he felt the palms of his hands grow sticky with the shock of it. What was he thinking of? She was a child,
a difficult, wayward child who had a fondness for kissing cousins.
A glass of hot spiced punch was put into his hands and James almost snatched at it with relief, and just as swiftly set it down. He’d do better to get out of this tea party, this house, while he still could. The thought became a decision and then he was striding to the door.
Seeing him about to leave, Charlotte half rose from her chair, but before she had fully made up her mind whether or not to follow him the door burst open and the whole company gave out a loud cheer as Jon the fiddler appeared.
The party came at once to life. Women grabbed for their husbands, a tune was selected and soon the room was filled with merry laughter and the thump, thump of pounding feet footing out the steps of a most energetic country dance. Charlotte, still watching James, found herself grasped by Dickon, and as he clung fiercely to her she was obliged to skip and swing and side step and hold up her arms to form an arch for the other dancers to pass beneath at the appropriate moments. Yet her heart was pounding not from the dance but at the thought that James Caraddon was about to leave and she wanted very much to stop him. Her startled mind replayed that glance over and over till she felt dizzy with it.
‘Smile, Charlotte. Aren’t you enjoying yourself?’ Dickon demanded and Charlotte hastened to assure him that she was.
The second time they held up their arms in an arch, James himself passed beneath it with Emily Holborn in the curve of his arm. An odd little pang struck Charlotte and she was astonished by it. Surely it could not be jealousy?
‘Play it faster, Jon!’ she cried, and everyone squealed, but the fiddler was only too happy to oblige. It was all great fun and Charlotte began to enjoy herself hugely.
Certainly she had no intention of letting Sir James Caraddon see how he had affected her or that she minded that he was deliberately ignoring her. She had received presents from every single guest,
even Molly who had given her a neatly hemmed new handkerchief. Alice had given the dress, of course, and Uncle Nathan had bought her a new mare, more fitting for her new status than Bella, her old pony whom she still loved and who could now be kept in contented retirement. There had been pomanders and lace kerchiefs, stockings, several books, and from Dickon a tortoiseshell comb. But from Sir James Caraddon, not so much as the gift of a word or a smile all evening.
Next came Tom Carter, who swung her round in the foursome reel in a madcap gallop, her feet scarcely touching the ground. This was followed by each of his brothers in turn, then, after several more dances with Charlotte gasping for breath, she laughingly begged to be excused.
‘Not tired already?’ Charlotte swung round to find her hand being taken by Sir James as he led her back into the dance. ‘You have not yet danced with me. Hardly polite, I feel.’
‘You have not yet asked me,’ she returned, tilting her chin impishly at him.
He proved to be a remarkably skilled dancer for all that the steps were not as familiar to his highly polished town shoes than to her own soft country slippers, but they moved well together and as their eyes met, danced away and met again Charlotte found her heart pit-patting far more than the exertion merited. Yet after one dance she conceded defeat.
‘I must beg you to pardon me, for I am perfectly worn out, not to mention my poor feet. I fear I have gone right through the soles of these slippers.’
‘You certainly look heated. Perhaps if we were to step outside for a breath of fresh air? Or would that be considered unacceptable without a chaperon?’ He smiled teasingly at her and she could not help but laugh.
Casting him a sideways glance of pure mischief, she flounced over to where Uncle Nathan sat tapping his foot and enjoying the music. ‘Sir James has offered to walk a step with me out in the courtyard while I cool down; do you mind, Uncle?’
Delighted by this apparent sign of progress, Nathan adjured her to take her shawl and not to catch cold. Dickon was at the door when they reached it. Charlotte had noticed that he’d seemed restless for some time, constantly making trips to the door to look out. She now asked him why.
‘It’s a surprise, Lottie, and you’re not to know of it till the moment comes, which I do hope won’t be long. They promised they wouldn’t be late.’
‘Who is late, Dickon?’ and then, seeing his frown, laughed. ‘All right, I will ask no more questions. Perhaps, by the time I return, the mysterious moment will have arrived.’
Charlotte could feel Dickon’s brooding eyes upon her as she and James Caraddon walked out into the courtyard.
‘We’ll walk a little way along the lane,’ she suggested. The top of her head did not quite reach his shoulder and, unused as she was to meeting members of the opposite sex other than those she had known all her life, like Dickon and the Carters, she experienced a sudden rush of shyness. ‘If that is agreeable to you.’
He smiled down at her. ‘Perfectly agreeable.’
* * * *
The night air was not so cold as she’d expected, though the stars twinkled gleefully in a canopy of velvet devoid of cloud and her shoes crunched on the icy tufts of grass.
‘And which one shall it be?’ he asked after they had strolled in silence for a moment or two.
‘Which one?’ Charlotte frowned up at him.
‘Which of your many suitors will win the prize of your hand?’
Charlotte tossed her head, clicking her tongue with disdain. ‘What makes you imagine I would choose any of them?’
‘Ah. By that remark do I take it you are considering searching beyond the bounds of Caperley Farm? Holding out for a greater prize. I believe that would be a wise decision. I see no young man suitable for you in the present company.’
Charlotte almost choked upon instant fury. ‘How dare you presume to make judgements for me? I am not searching for a husband either here at Caperley or beyond, and you have no right to suggest otherwise.’
James looked askance at her. ‘Are you saying you would rather stay an old maid?’
Charlotte’s cheeks flamed. ‘I never said any such thing,’ she retorted. ‘If you knew your Shakespeare you would know that love sought is good, but given unsought is better.’
‘So you will wait here at Caperley until some romantic, poetic hero comes to discover you? Is that the sum of it? If so, then I must warn you it could be a long wait. Not many heroes pass this way.’
Charlotte stopped walking and turned to confront him. ‘You think this is all highly amusing, don’t you? It must be deliciously funny for you to come down from the great city of London and mock the way we country folk behave. Well, let me tell you that we have manners here too, and standards which must be kept. What’s more, we care about other people and take no pleasure in mocking them. If and when I choose to consider taking a husband is none of your concern, Sir James Caraddon, so I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my affairs.’
‘With pleasure,’ said he in the same biting tone. ‘But I suggest you make the same point to young Dickon.’
‘Dickon?’
‘I’m not blind to the way he looks at you, even if you choose to be. But I will say no more upon the subject. Shall we walk?’ and seeing that she was about to refuse, he tucked her arm firmly into his and ignored its wriggling attempt to free itself and they resumed their steady pace along the lane. ‘This is delightful. The air is clearing my head; is it yours? It must have been considerably stuffy in your parlour, Charlotte.’
Charlotte had not experienced anything less delightful in her life. The warmth of his large hand clasped firmly over hers was infuriatingly disturbing and she wished he would let go of it, even as her heart fluttered at his closeness. ‘I find it rather chilly as a matter of fact.’
‘Then we must walk faster. It don’t do to linger. Not at this time of year.’ James strode out more briskly and he could feel the sway of her body as she hurried along beside him, hip and thigh brushing against his as she tried to keep pace. It had the most extraordinary effect upon him and made him walk all the faster as if to escape the sensation, then suddenly he clasped her hand in his. ‘Come on, let’s run,’ and he was off, haring down the lane as carefree as a young schoolboy, and Charlotte was running and skipping beside him, trying to catch her breath and not appear a weakling by falling behind.
They reached a wooden gate and James skidded to a halt. Charlotte’s soft shoes slithered on the ice and she catapulted straight into his arms. Far from seeming surprised or objecting, he gathered her tightly against his broad chest and upon the instant his lips came down upon hers in a warm crushing kiss that banished the last of the breath from her body. Charlotte melted against him like a snowflake on warm skin, and if her arms found their way about his neck she told herself it was only to prevent the possibility of falling upon the ice. She held on to him as tightly as she dared and her heart soared with the pleasure of being held tighter in response. This man wanted her; for all her innocence she could sense it. And for all her sharp words to him a moment ago, she knew she wanted him too. It was the most delicious experience in her life so far and she had absolutely no wish for the kiss ever to end. But all too soon, it seemed, the magical moment was over and a cold waft of air separated them as they stood dumbly staring at each other.
‘I dare say I should apologise for that,’ James said at last, ‘although I don’t intend to. Perhaps we should have brought a chaperon after all.’
Charlotte gave a soft chuckle, for she could see he was sincere. ‘I don’t think I was in any danger. Besides, it is my birthday, and everyone is entitled to one kiss on their birthday.’
‘Or even two?’ he ventured, his grey eyes sparkling, but Charlotte backed away from him.
‘I think not. We had better go back now.’
‘Perhaps you are right, if you are to stay free from danger.’
As she turned to walk back up the lane he caught her hand in his and held it for a moment. ‘I never meant that to happen, y
ou know. It wasn’t planned.’
She gazed up into his eyes. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice a soft breath on the night air.
‘But I do not at all regret it.’
‘Nor do I,’ she breathed.
‘You have a most extraordinary effect upon a man. Why d’you think that is, Charlotte?’ He rolled her name caressingly over his tongue. Charlotte tried to back away
along the lane but he kept a very firm hold upon her hand.
‘I suspect you are skilled at manufacturing situations such as these, Sir James Caraddon, and I’ll have you know that you turn my head not at all.’
‘Not even a little?’
She shook it very decidedly. ‘See, it is very firmly in place.’ But she smiled as she spoke, for it was really turning out to be quite the most wonderful birthday party she could have imagined. ‘I am not in the least affected by your pretty words.’
He caught at the ties of her shawl and used them to pull her to him, his other arm going around her once more to hold her fast in a crushing embrace. ‘Then it will have no effect if I repeat the exercise.’
Charlotte wriggled and squirmed, pushing against him with her hands, but he was every bit as strong as he looked and her efforts were fruitless. ‘If you do not let me go I shall scream,’ she cried, not meaning it at all but hoping he would not call her bluff. She saw the white of his teeth gleam in the darkness as he laughed softly at her.
‘Scream away, birthday girl. None shall hear you, for I shall smother your squeals with more and more kisses.’
Whether or not either one of them would have carried out their threats was destined never to be discovered for at that moment a trumpet boomed out of the darkness from somewhere along the lane. It was the very last thing they had expected and both jumped as if they’d been shot.
‘Hello, hello, hello. Be there anyone about?
Here you see our merry band.
The Fosdyke Players, finest in the land.
Come to call and bring you pleasure.
Outrageous Fortune Page 6