Hopefully that memory was a sign that this dinner would not turn into a disaster after all.
* * *
Charlotte sat staring at the turtle soup still in her bowl and debated if she should take even one spoonful. Her stomach had been in knots since this morning when she received the invitation to dine at Winterbourne House from Olivia, Duchess of Winterbourne. It was a polite note congratulating her on her engagement to Andrew and suggesting the families meet over dinner. Because Olivia did not know who else was privy to the news of the sudden engagement, she asked Charlotte to extend the invitation to any family members she wished.
When Charlotte wrote to Lizzy, asking if she would like to attend, the letter was returned to her unopened. If Lizzy had refused to attend because it was an engagement dinner, Charlotte would have understood. But the letter was returned with its seal intact. Lizzy no longer cared for anything Charlotte had to say. It was crushing. Not only had she lost Jonathan, but she had lost the love of her sister as well. The only good that would come out of any of this was the child she was carrying. The child that hour by hour was becoming more real in her mind. It no longer was this terrible thing that had thrown her life into turmoil. It was a baby. Her baby. And Andrew’s.
She stole a side glance at his ruggedly handsome face as he sat beside her in the grand dining room of Winterbourne House. Would their child resemble him? Would it have brown eyes with flecks of gold, as his did? Or thick light brown hair that always looked slightly tousled? Sitting beside him with his confident shoulders and easy manner was helping her relax. But she still couldn’t eat her soup.
‘Do you not like turtle?’ Andrew whispered, leaning towards her.
‘I had one as a pet when I was a child,’ she admitted low enough so only he could hear.
He wiped the smile from his lips with his napkin. ‘Did it have a name?’
‘Edgar. My turtle was named Edgar.’
‘And was Edgar a fine turtle?’
‘He was wonderful. I found him on a log by the pond on my parents’ estate. He was just a small thing. No bigger than my thumb.’
‘I can assure you, Edgar is not in that bowl.’
‘I’m aware of that. He is buried by the folly on the estate, but members of his family are in here.’ She stirred the contents around and scooped up some on her spoon. Then she let the liquid with bits of turtle slip back into the white bowl trimmed with gold.
‘Do you think he had relations in London?’ His mouth was near her ear and the deepness of his voice mixed with his warm breath near her neck sent tingles through her body.
‘Doesn’t everyone have relations in London?’
‘Perhaps he did not like his London relations.’ He peered over at his younger brother who was seated next to Juliet. ‘Not all of us like ours.’
She had witnessed the brothers tussle with one another when they’d arrived and wondered what could have provoked men at their ages to raise fists to one another. ‘Sometimes our relations can make life difficult, even when they don’t mean to.’ She thought of Lizzy and it came out on a sigh.
‘That’s why I think Edgar would recommend that you try the soup.’
He made her smile. It was the first time she had felt like doing so all day. He always seemed to have some kind of effect on her. Either it was raising her spirits with his good humour or raising her temperature with his heated looks. Even just sitting beside him was making her insides flutter and they weren’t even touching. Heaven help her if his leg inadvertently moved against hers. At the moment, his smile was bringing back memories of kissing his soft, yet firm lips. She feared, if his leg brushed against hers, her body would recall the other intimate activities they’d shared. Now was not the time to recall any of that. She should simply be waiting for the footmen to remove the pet soup from in front of her. Now was not the time to wonder what his lips would taste like if they could somehow manage to steal a kiss without any of their family members noticing.
Once more she glanced at him, wondering what it was about this man that captivated her. While he was attractive, she knew there were other men she had met over the years who were more handsome than Andrew. Yet in all her life, she had never met anyone who had the kind of effect on her that he did.
‘Have you given any thought as to where you’d like the wedding ceremony to take place?’ Olivia broke in, reminding her of the reason they were dining together today. She felt her smile slip. All of this was done out of obligation. He had never intended to see her again.
They hadn’t got that far in their discussion yesterday and, as she went to look back at Andrew, she caught the watchful eyes of his mother—eyes that were the same shade as all three of her sons. There was no expression on the Dowager’s patrician face as she sat regally with her diamonds sparkling in the candlelight. And she didn’t bother to look away as if she was embarrassed to be caught staring at Charlotte.
Andrew straightened up in his chair and took a sip of claret. ‘I thought Charlotte and I would discuss it once we obtained the licence.’
‘Weddings take planning, Andrew. Arrangements have to be made. Unless you are heading off to Gretna Green.’ There was a teasing smile on Olivia’s lips that reminded Charlotte of the looks she would sometimes share with her sisters.
He was kind enough to leave the choice to her. ‘Do you have a preference?’
It wasn’t as if it was going to be a real marriage. The less they pretended this was not a marriage of convenience, the better she would be in the end when they parted ways. He had been gracious to her so far. She would let him decide. ‘Do you have a preference?’
He shook his head.
‘Might I suggest St James’s,’ Olivia offered, sitting back so the footman could remove her empty bowl that once held Edgar’s kin. ‘I’m certain Gabriel can arrange something with the Bishop even though it is rather sudden. We were married there and it is a lovely church.’ She looked at the Duke, who was seated at Charlotte’s left at the head of the table, and the love between them was evident in their shared smiles.
His Grace turned to Charlotte and sat back. ‘I sense my wife will arrange all of this for you if you don’t speak up, Lady Charlotte. I’m certain you do have some preference. Would you like to marry in St James’s with all the fanfare?’ His gaze darted to Andrew before it settled back on her.
All discussion around the table stopped and everyone was looking at her. She had no friends in London. The only people in Town she cared about were sitting at this table, except for Lizzy, who hated her.
There was a lump in her throat. Her beloved sister would never attend her wedding. They had been there for each other through every important event in each other’s lives. But that was over now all because for one brief moment when Charlotte had wanted to feel desirable again.
She did not need strangers gawking at them. She needed to put the wedding ceremony behind her as quickly as possible. ‘In truth, I hoped for a more private occasion. Small and not quite so grand.’ And one that didn’t feel so much like a wedding ceremony.
Andrew pushed his muscular leg gently against hers, sending a wave of warmth up her thigh.
‘I agree. There is no need to invite extra attention,’ he said.
Thank God.
He rested his hand on her knee. It might have been done in a reassuring gesture, but Charlotte couldn’t help wishing they were alone.
‘You may use my home for the ceremony, if you wish.’ Her aunt’s voice broke the spell his touch was casting on her. Aunt Clara gave her a kind smile, reminding her that she still had family who loved her. ‘It is modest, but will suit your purpose. And if you so desire, you may remain there to stay for the rest of your time in London. I imagine Albany is not a conducive residence for a newly married couple and Juliet and I will be leaving Town after the wedding breakfast. It would be a shame for the house to sit idle when it can be of
use.’
As the footmen entered with large platters of delicious-smelling meats and vegetables, Charlotte looked at Andrew. He was studying her. Would the brother of a duke think it was beneath him to get married in her aunt’s house? Would he prefer to get married in this grand home instead, with its multitude of gilded rooms?
He answered for the both of them. ‘That is very kind of you. We would be honoured.’
The Duke cleared his throat and arched his brow at Andrew’s younger brother, Lord Montague. Apparently, they did not think Aunt Clara’s house was an appropriate location for the ceremony.
‘What is so amusing?’ The annoyance in Andrew’s tone was distinct.
The Duke raised his glass of claret to Lord Montague. ‘Would you care to tell him?’
All three brothers bore a striking resemblance to one another with their light brown hair and brown eyes with flecks of green and gold. Lord Montague appeared a few years older than Juliet and more mischievous than his brothers. You could see it in his eyes.
‘I bet Gabriel twenty quid you would be married in the ring at Jackson’s.’
‘You honestly thought I would do that? Truly?’
As if he really did believe Andrew would be married in a boxing ring, Lord Montague bobbed his head from side to side. ‘I did place the bet.’
A boxing ring? They thought Andrew would want to be married in a boxing ring? Who would do such a thing? Why would someone even consider that an appropriate place to exchange wedding vows?
On the other side of the table, Juliet rolled her eyes. Exasperation was evident in her expression as she reached for her wine and took a long drink. Andrew, on the other hand, appeared to be trying to hide his smile in the rim of his glass.
* * *
When dinner was over, the men remained in the dining room for their after-dinner port and the women went to retire to the drawing room to wait for them. But before the women reached the drawing-room door, Andrew’s mother made her way to Charlotte’s side.
‘Lady Charlotte, I don’t know if you’ve heard of Olivia’s love of art. Perhaps you would be interested in taking a tour of her gallery with me. The works displayed there are remarkable.’
Butterflies crashed inside her stomach and she wished she hadn’t eaten so much food. It was too soon to find out what Andrew’s mother thought of the scandal she had brought to their door. The dinner had been delicious, aside from the soup, and Andrew attentive. So far it had been an enjoyable evening. Something told her that might be about to change.
Summoning her courage, she tried to smile. ‘That would be lovely.’ Or torturous...she would find out soon enough.
They walked silently side by side until they came to a long room at the back of the house that looked out on to the gardens. It was a lovely, quiet space that Charlotte would have enjoyed spending time in by herself. Gilded frames filled the walls with pastoral scenes as well as portraits of noble men and women.
As they proceeded further into the room, the Dowager stopped before a particular set of paintings. ‘These horses were painted by Mr George Stubbs. Olivia purchased them for Andrew a year ago. He liked them well enough, however he could not find sufficient room for them, so they hang here instead.’
The collection of four paintings in gilded frames were of fine muscular horses and seemed to fit what she knew of her future husband. ‘I can see why he would like them.’
‘As can I.’ Her attention was on Charlotte and not on the wall. ‘I believe Andrew could have made room for them in his home, but he didn’t see how his life would be richer with them there. I love my son, Lady Charlotte, but he shuts himself off from much of the world. I don’t know why. I just know he does. I hope you will find a way for him to change that and perhaps find some room to hang a few new things.’
The analogy between the paintings and Charlotte had not escaped her notice.
‘I will try, Your Grace.’ She didn’t have the heart to tell her Andrew had already informed her there was no room for her and their child in his life.
She hadn’t been particularly close to her own mother. She wasn’t a warm woman. Charlotte tried to recall a time when her mother had openly expressed her love for Charlotte or any of her sisters. She couldn’t recall even one time. At least his mother admitted the emotion existed.
They strolled leisurely back to the drawing room and, by the time they reached the threshold, the men were right behind them. And when it was time to leave, Andrew escorted them out to their carriage while offering Charlotte his arm. The muscles of his arm under the sleeve of his formal black tailcoat were hard and she couldn’t help but curl her fingers around to feel his bicep under the guise of adjusting her hand. There was a strength about Andrew, not just from his body, but from his manner. Charlotte wished she could capture some of his strength to store away for herself for the times she particularly needed it.
He assisted Aunt Clara and Juliet into her aunt’s carriage before turning back to Charlotte. Instead of helping her immediately inside, he held her back for a moment. The warmth from his ungloved hand on her bare arm had her wishing she could press her body against his. Their eyes held for a few moments and she had the strongest urge to kiss him.
Until he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. ‘I shall have the licence in two days. Shall we marry on Wednesday?’
Four days. In four days, she would be legally bound to him. He would hold all the power over her. Control her money. Own her property. In four days, she would be his wife.
‘Do not fear for your future, Charlotte. My solicitor will be filing my Will tomorrow. You and the child will be provided for should anything happen to me. And your house, all the property and income from it shall remain yours.’
It was surprising he had thought of providing and protecting her so soon after their engagement. He was not going off to fight a war, and by the way he carried himself he appeared to believe he was invincible. Yet he considered she was well versed in the uncertainties of life and wanted to put her at ease.
‘Thank you. And I will inform my aunt of the wedding date.’
Would he kiss her goodbye? They were engaged to wed. It would not be unheard of. And she longed to feel his lips brush against hers.
His gaze dropped to her grey pelisse. It appeared he wanted to say something, but then thought better of it. They stared at one another for a few more moments, as if each was waiting for the other to decide how they should part. If they were a couple who were marrying for love, he might have leaned down and kissed her. Instead he bowed politely and assisted her into the carriage. The reality of their situation made her heart drop as they rolled away from the house.
‘Lord Andrew appears to be a lovely gentleman and I find I rather like most of his family,’ Aunt Clara said from where she sat across from Charlotte. ‘I know this is not what you would have chosen. I know you had no intention of marrying again. And I know you have chosen to remain in half-mourning to honour Jonathan’s memory. But you are to be married to Lord Andrew now. He is an honourable man. It’s time you put those gowns away.’ The advice was given gently, as if she was trying her hardest not to offend Charlotte.
Put them away? Her chest tightened with the rocking of the carriage. She hadn’t considered having to dress differently as Andrew’s wife. She liked her gowns. She knew how to face the world as a widow. How did she face the world as Lady Andrew Pearce?
‘I know a wonderful couturier here in Town. Why don’t we go there tomorrow? I’m sure she must have at least one gown that she can alter in time for your wedding. And then we can see about having additional gowns made for you. It will be my wedding gift to you.’
‘That is too generous. I can never accept a gift like that.’ She looked over at Juliet, who seemed to be lost in thought as she stared out the window at the passing houses in Mayfair.
‘I want to do this for you, Charlotte. You wou
ld not deprive me of the joy of seeing you dressed in happier colours, would you?’
When Jonathan was killed, she hadn’t wanted to be a burden on anyone. Proving to herself she could live independently and not have to marry again had given her the courage to go on, when all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and remain there for months. Admitting to herself that she needed help wasn’t easy. Asking for help was even harder. But her aunt’s offer would certainly help, especially since she did not know the exact state of Andrew’s finances.
So much of her new life was unknown.
Chapter Seventeen
The morning of their wedding, Charlotte stood in her bedchamber at Aunt Clara’s home, staring down at the yellow-silk gown as if she had somehow switched bodies with Juliet.
‘You look lovely,’ Juliet said with a big smile from where she sat on the edge of Charlotte’s bed. ‘I’ve become so accustomed to seeing you in greys and lavenders that I’d forgotten how you glow when you wear other colours.’
‘It feels so bright.’
‘It’s yellow.’
‘It feels wrong.’
‘It won’t for very long. He seems like a good man, Charlotte. I was prepared to not like him. However, Lord Andrew appears very attentive to you. He does not seem condescending or cruel. I think you will have a good life with him, if you allow yourself.’
But she would not be spending her life with him. They would just be together for a short while. That thought should have made her happy. She had never wanted to marry again. Andrew knew that. And yet...
‘Jonathan loved you, Charlotte. He would have never wanted to see you unhappy. He would have never wanted you to stop living your life because he sacrificed his.’
‘I don’t know how to honour his memory any more. I don’t know how to still love him and be another man’s wife.’ She toyed with his ring that she still wore around her neck.
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