Andrew had been soaking in his tub until the water had turned cold and his fingers were wrinkled. The coolness of the water was doing nothing for the stiffness in his muscles, but it was doing wonders to help with his body’s reaction to seeing Charlotte again.
Since he’d returned to London, he had tried to push all thoughts of her out of his mind. But there were times on especially clear nights that as he walked home from White’s or rode home from other various entertainments, he would glance up at the sky and memories of their time together on the hill would push their way into his head.
The feeling of being inside her was still fresh in his mind after all this time. It had been six weeks and he could still recall that delicious friction. If only they had found a bed, he could have explored every delicious inch of her slowly—maybe more than once. After all this time, he still had a desire to.
Maybe that was why he had needed to find out if it was indeed her today looking in the window of that shop and why he had almost stopped breathing when he was standing next to her. She looked beautiful in her very proper bonnet. It might have been the same one she was wearing the day they spent together at the fair.
Andrew imagined her here in his set of rooms. He would remove that bonnet and her garments and feast upon her till they were both spent. How he wished he could hear her cry his name once more and touch her soft skin.
How long would she be in London? Was she staying at Skeffington House? That wasn’t far from here. In fact, it wasn’t far from White’s, where he frequently dined and played cards. Had he passed her in the street at other times and not realised it? He wondered how she was and if she had thought about him at all.
During their short time together in Cheshire, she stirred feelings inside him that needed to be locked away for him to do his job effectively. A man who regularly placed himself in mortal danger was not a man who should form emotional attachments to any woman.
This was why it was dangerous for him to stop working. Gabriel was wrong. He didn’t need time away. He needed to be constantly reminded that the world was comprised of ghastly people who wanted anarchy at any cost.
Just the notion that he needed to remind himself why he needed to live his life away from a woman who he had started to really care for told him that if he saw Charlotte in the future, he should just walk away. Lady Charlotte Gregory was a complication he did not need.
* * *
Charlotte held Juliet’s hand as they stood just outside the doorway to the gold-and-white drawing room in Lizzy’s home, as she gathered the courage to face her sister. Their conversation would probably be over quickly and, by this evening, Charlotte would know if her sister could forgive her. She let go of Juliet’s hand, afraid she was crushing her sister’s fingers.
‘Are you ready?’ Juliet whispered.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Charlotte took a breath. ‘No, but I don’t think I ever will be ready to do this.’ As she placed her hand on her stomach, she drew up every ounce of courage she could muster and walked into the room.
The needlework Lizzy had been working on as she sat by the window fell to the floor as she hurried across the room and grabbed both of Charlotte’s hands. ‘You still look unwell. Will you let me summon a physician? It appears the tea did little to help. I have been so worried. I wanted to see if you were feeling better earlier today, but you were asleep. I hope you do not mind that I told Juliet you were unwell.’
‘No, I don’t mind.’
‘Do you feel any better? Even a little bit?’ Lizzy raised her brows hopefully.
‘I believe I’m feeling worse.’
‘Oh, heavens, do come and sit. Perhaps by the window where the breeze will reach you.’
But as Lizzy went to guide her towards her vacant seat, Charlotte held her ground. ‘I’m with child.’
Juliet dropped her head down. ‘I thought we agreed to broach this gently.’
‘There is no gentle way to do this,’ Charlotte replied.
Lizzy was staring at her with wide eyes. Her breathing was becoming more pronounced. ‘Oh. Oh. I see. Oh.’ She licked her lips and scrunched up her forehead before she continued. ‘How is that possible?’
Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I met someone. We let our passions overrule our judgement. It only happened once.’
‘But you and I have discussed this. We cannot bear children.’
‘Apparently, we can. I would have never been so careless if I thought this were possible.’
By the look on Lizzy’s face she was trying hard to accept what she was hearing. ‘It only happened once?’ she mumbled, almost to herself.
‘Just once.’
She met Charlotte’s gaze with hope in her eyes. ‘Then I might be able to bear children as well?’
‘There is a distinct possibility.’
‘Why did you not tell me sooner?’
‘I just realised it when Juliet came to bring me tea.’
‘Tea. Yes, that’s what we need. We need tea. Aunt Clara always says important things should be discussed over tea.’
‘Or sherry.’ Juliet shrugged at the glare Charlotte gave her.
‘I will go and ring for tea,’ Lizzy said with excitement shining in her eyes. ‘Why don’t we sit by the hearth?’
Before Charlotte could confess that Andrew was the father of her child, Juliet gave her a gentle shove towards the two sofas that were facing one another. Charlotte perched herself on the very edge of one as Juliet sat down next to her and settled herself on the cushion.
When Lizzy sat across from her she appeared calm, like a woman who was ready to face a problem. ‘Well, I assume you intend to inform the baby’s father of this.’
The lump was back in Charlotte’s throat. She would have to tell her. ‘That is my intention.’
‘Good. Do you believe him to be an honourable man?’
‘Yes, I believe so.’
‘Is he a bachelor?’
‘Of course he is!’
‘Well, under the circumstances, that is an important detail.’ She reached across and grabbed Charlotte’s hand. ‘You will not go through this alone. Juliet and I will be by your side. Should this gentleman...he is a gentleman, is he not?’
‘He is.’
Lizzy seemed to breathe a bit deeper. Who did she imagine the father was, one of Charlotte’s footmen?
‘Well, should this gentleman decide that he is not inclined to offer marriage, I’m sure there is something in his past we can uncover to entice him into making an offer.’
‘Lizzy, I will not blackmail him into marriage!’
‘That is such a harsh word. I prefer coax.’
Juliet slapped her hands on her knees. ‘Oh, lud, just tell her, Charlotte.’
Lizzy eyed them both. ‘Tell me what?’
‘Who the father is,’ Juliet replied on a rush of breath.
‘I assume the man is from Cheshire.’ She turned to Charlotte. ‘Do I know him?’
Charlotte closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. ‘Lizzy, why did you always refer to Lord Andrew only as Winterbourne’s brother? Why did you never mention him by name?’
‘Why ask me such a thing now? We should be discussing...’ Her entire body stiffened.
Charlotte and Juliet sat perfectly still as they both anticipated the approaching storm.
‘Tell me it is not so.’
‘Lizzy—’
‘Tell me you did not seduce Lord Andrew.’
The nerve of her sister! ‘I did not seduce him. There was a mutual attraction. He was just as eager for it as I was.’
The storm clouds were settling in Lizzy’s eyes.
‘Might not be helping,’ Juliet whispered from the side of her mouth.
‘Had I known he was the man that you had set your sights on, I never would have spent any time alone with
him.’
‘You should not be spending time alone with any man.’
‘You think I don’t know that! We were at a fair, with friends and neighbours around us.’
‘And yet you managed to somehow conceive a child. You said he had stayed with Toby and Ann for only a very short while.’
‘He did. We barely spent time together.’
‘Apparently you did spend enough time together.’ Her hands balled into fists. ‘How could you do this to me?’ she cried. ‘How could you betray me like this? You have had everything you’ve ever wanted. You got to marry the man you loved. You had a happy marriage with a man who loved and respected you. I was forced to marry a man older than our father who was a wretch and cared nothing for me. You got to try to have a child with a young man. I had to endure the grunts and groans of a disgusting old one.’
Juliet visibly shuddered, and Lizzy stood up, pointing her finger at Charlotte.
‘You had every bit of happiness God could bestow on a person. I had none of it. And now, now when I am finally rid of that beast and there is one man in all of England—one man—that I want and think will make me happy, you find a way to get that bit of happiness, too?’
What did Lizzy know about Charlotte’s happiness? ‘You think I’m happy about this?’ she bit back. ‘You speak of the happiness I had, but you forget, Sister, of the loss. I was happy with Jonathan. I did love him and he loved me. But God took him from me that day on the battlefield. He never came home. I never saw his body. He is buried in some grave, they tell me, with others he served with. Even in death we will not be together. And I never got to say goodbye to him!’ She covered her mouth with her hand to hold back her cries. ‘You think I want this? You think I want any of it? This baby is not his. It belongs to a man I do not love—that I barely know. I do not want to marry Lord Andrew, but I know that is what this world demands I do. I have no choice in this. I had one perfect marriage and destroyed the memory of it on one foolish night.’ It was hard to catch her breath, it all came out so suddenly.
‘Get out.’
Charlotte’s heart crashed to the floor. ‘What?’
‘Lizzy, you don’t mean that,’ Juliet said, standing up at her oldest sister’s side and threading her fingers through Charlotte’s icy hand.
‘I do mean it. I want you out of my house, Charlotte. I don’t need you here. I will meet Skeffington’s heir without you. I can do that on my own. I don’t want to see you any more.’
There was a finality to her words that sounded as if she meant for ever. ‘Lizzy, I never meant for any of this to happen. Had I known Lord Andrew was Winterbourne’s brother—’
‘But it no longer matters now. You will have him and I will not. You will make a lovely family together. I just never want to witness it. I’m going out into the garden. By the time I come back inside, I expect you to be gone from my home.’
Charlotte’s heart was still down by her feet, but now it felt hollow inside. She loved Lizzy and the thought of losing her sister was breaking her heart.
‘Lizzy, Charlotte needs us. Can you not see that? Can you not see that we are all she has?’
‘She has Lord Andrew. That is what I see.’ And with that she stormed out of the room.
Charlotte’s knees gave way as she sank to the sofa, covering her mouth to muffle her sobs. How had her life fallen apart like this in just a few short hours?
Juliet sat beside her and put her arm around her shoulders. ‘She will not feel this way for ever.’
Charlotte wasn’t convinced of that. ‘I cannot go back home. Not now, not until I have spoken to Andrew. Where will I go?’
‘You will come with me to Aunt Clara’s house. You can stay with us.’
‘I don’t want to have to tell Aunt Clara. This is all so humiliating.’
‘Aunt Clara has seen so much in her lifetime. I’m sure, while she will be surprised, she will also have advice on what to do and how you can contact Lord Andrew. Come, we will go up to your bedchamber and you can call for Violet to help you pack. Then you will go with me back to our aunt’s.’
* * *
They arrived on the stone steps of Aunt Clara’s Mayfair town house an hour later. The terraced brick building looked very much like all the other homes on the street and exactly the way Charlotte remembered it from her childhood when she would visit her aunt and her uncle Robert, who was her father’s younger brother. As they walked into the entrance hall, they were met with the scent of roses coming from a large vase on the highly polished table by the staircase. Ever since she was little, Charlotte equated the smell of roses with her aunt—either she or her homes always smelled of them.
‘It appears Aunt Clara has been out in the garden trimming the rose bushes while I’ve been gone.’
‘I grew bored of waiting for you to return.’ Their aunt’s voice carried from the top of the staircase. ‘I had to occupy myself somehow after I finished all my correspondence.’ Aunt Clara walked slowly down the stairs, holding the skirt of her emerald-green silk gown in her hands. ‘It’s so lovely to see you again, Charlotte.’ There was nothing quite like an Aunt Clara hug. She enveloped you in her soft arms and you were magically transported back to being a ten-year-old. You almost expected her to slip you a sweet when she let you go. Except now the top of her petite aunt’s head rested under Charlotte’s chin and her brown hair was tucked into a fashionable lace cap. If only she could spend the next nine months being held by her aunt...
‘I have invited Charlotte to stay with us here,’ Juliet said through a rigid smile. Watching her older sisters argue hadn’t been easy for her.
Aunt Clara’s brow wrinkled a bit before she acted as if it was commonplace for Charlotte to leave Lizzy’s home to stay with them. ‘That means that I get to spend even more time with the both of you in London. How delightful! And how lucky for us that Lord Henry had to break his lease on this house and flee to America over shooting Lord Overton in that duel. Has Skeffington’s heir arrived already and taken possession on the house?’
‘No, not yet,’ Charlotte replied, taking off her spencer with unsteady hands.
‘Why don’t you girls come into the drawing room and we can have some tea. Then you can tell me what has brought Charlotte to my door for this happy occasion.’
They sat down in the well-appointed celery-green sunlit room and within fifteen minutes Charlotte had told their aunt all about the child and her argument with Lizzy. Aunt Clara listened without interrupting, sipping her tea and occasionally nodding. In one instance, she handed over her napkin so Charlotte could blow her nose and dry her eyes.
Like a general preparing for battle, Aunt Clara put together a strategy for how Charlotte could reach Andrew. ‘No women are allowed into the building where he resides,’ she explained. ‘You would never be able to visit him there, not that propriety is all that crucial at this moment.’
‘I thought I’d send him a note to request we meet somewhere of his choosing. I don’t know London, but I’m sure we could find somewhere to meet and talk. A park or a church might do.’
‘And if he does not respond?’ Aunt Clara shook her head. ‘This matter needs to be settled quickly so no one is the wiser. We will not have you standing in a church marrying the man when it is obvious to all that you are carrying his child.’
‘You speak as if he will ask for my hand, but I’m not convinced he will. We barely know one another.’ She covered her face with her hands to hide her embarrassment.
‘That is not a requirement for marriage, my dear. If it were, half the marriages of the ton would not have happened. A marriage of convenience is nothing to be ashamed of. I know you married for love once, but now it will be different. If you are fortunate, you and Lord Andrew will lead separate lives and only see one another when it’s time to conceive another child.’
It sounded so cold and impersonal. What was to become
of her and this child? The events of the day had unfolded so quickly she hadn’t had time to think about the baby as more than an enormous hindrance to her quiet life.
She was going to have a child and be a mother. It had been years since she had thought that would be possible. Resting her hand on her stomach, she tried to feel something, anything that let her know it was in there. Aside from a slight gurgle of her stomach, she didn’t feel a thing. She had wanted a child with Jonathan. She had prayed for a child with him. But it never happened. Why was she going to have one now? And why with Andrew?
Chapter Fifteen
It was mid-morning and Andrew could have gone another round in the ring, but Jackson had convinced him that after three hours of exerting himself in some form or another, his body needed rest. Although Andrew would admit to being physically exhausted, his mind would not stop working as his thoughts continued to turn to Charlotte. It was only during the last few hours that he had found some peace in the concentration that was required to avoid getting knocked out by his opponent. Perhaps now he could get some rest.
Exiting Jackson’s saloon, he looked up at the thick grey clouds above Bond Street and adjusted the collar on his brown-linen coat. He was just about to turn down the street towards Piccadilly when a woman’s soft voice called out his name.
Standing in front of an unmarked black carriage parked at the curb was a well-dressed petite woman around his mother’s age. Past the brim of her red bonnet was a pair of keen assessing dark eyes. She obviously knew who he was—however, he could not recall ever having seen her before. Her right hand rested on a gold-tipped walking stick and he wondered if, like his, it served more than one purpose. She seemed harmless enough, but he knew from experience that one could never be too careful.
The footman that stood beside her in pale blue livery remained by the carriage as she took a few slow steps closer to Andrew. ‘You are Lord Andrew Pearce, are you not?’
He tipped the brim of his hat in a cautious greeting. ‘I am. However, you have the advantage, madam. I do not know who you are.’
‘I am Mrs Robert Sommersby. You and I have a mutual acquaintance.’
One Week to Wed Page 13