Ladies and Their Secrets: Regency Romance Collection

by Alec, Joyce

  “Mayhap he is simply being kind,” Charlotte murmured, her heart suddenly filled with an inexplicable warmth for the man.

  To normally behave in such a way told her more about his character than anything else. It meant that he did not allow the constant compliments and warm smiles to affect his heart. He did not revel in them nor welcome them. Her lips crept into a small smile as she saw him let out a long breath, a pained expression on his face as one of the eligible young ladies put her hand on his arm for a moment.

  “A very different kind of man then,” she said, half to herself.

  “Indeed!” her acquaintance laughed, shaking her head. “The man is one of the most eligible in society, and I know a great many people find his lack of interest to be most distressing, although some see it as a challenge.”

  A moue of distaste curled Charlotte’s lips, as she saw Lady Emma watching the marquess with a gleam in her eye. She had no doubt that her stepsister saw the marquess as a challenge—but found that the thought of her trying to capture his attentions made her almost sick to her stomach. She had grown quite angry over Charlotte’s dances with him, although Lady Perrin had exchanged a few strong words with her, forcing Lady Emma to lapse into silence.

  However, Charlotte could still feel the hatred emanating from her stepsister whenever they were in the same room together. It was almost palpable, as though she could reach out and touch it. Startled to see Lady Emma turning her steely gaze onto her, as though aware that Charlotte had been thinking of her, Charlotte deliberately turned her back to her stepsister and continued her conversation with her friend, trying her best not to think of the marquess or turn around to glance at him once more.

  * * *

  The recital had been wonderful, but soon there were calls for dancing, and Charlotte found that she was already a little too hot and certainly did not want to engage in dancing. Perhaps a breath or two of fresh air might give her the respite she needed.

  “I am just going to go out onto the balcony, Aunt Agatha,” she explained, as she found Lady Perrin. “Might you come with me?”

  At that very moment, Lady Emma let out a shriek of horror as a gentleman stood on the bottom of her gown, tearing it. Charlotte heard the ripping of fabric as the gentleman apologized profusely and made to move out of the way, but somehow managed to continue standing on it. Lady Emma’s eyes filled with hot tears, her face going red, and as Lady Perrin hurried towards her, Charlotte chose that very moment to slip away.

  It was not always particularly wise to go out alone, but Charlotte could not stand to be indoors another moment. It was too cloying, and Lady Emma’s shrieks could still be faintly heard. Drawing in a long breath of fresh air, Charlotte looked longingly down the small steps to her left, seeing that they led into a small garden area. It was by now quite dark, although the sky seemed to be a dark blue as opposed to a heavy black, and the many lanterns that twinkled around the gardens made her feel quite safe.

  “Would you like to walk with me?”

  Charlotte let out a yelp of surprise, turning to see Lord Withington smiling at her, having left the drawing room also.

  “Oh, Lord Withington,” she gasped, putting one hand on her thundering heart. “I was lost in thought. I did not see you. I do apologize.”

  “Not in the least,” he said easily. “If you would like to walk in the grounds, I would be happy to accompany you.” He must have seen the look of worry on her face for he immediately continued, “I know it is a little improper, but almost everyone else is caught up with the goings on with Lady Emma’s dress.”

  “That is my stepsister,” Charlotte murmured softly. “Have you been introduced?”

  “Not as yet,” the marquess replied, with a half-smile. “I know of her, of course, but no formal introductions have been made.”

  “I shall probably have to do it at some point,” Charlotte said softly. “Is her dress quite badly torn?”

  He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I am afraid I am not particularly good with that sort of thing. As soon as the hubbub became too great, I quit the room in the hope of a little solitude.”

  Charlotte blushed, wondering if she had ruined his plans by her presence. “I can return indoors then, my lord, so you may have your privacy.” She made to walk by him, only for him to catch her arm, stopping her dead in her track.

  “No, no, that is not what I meant in the least!” he exclaimed, looking down at her with fervor in his expression. “I do not wish for you to go back inside on my account, Miss Richardson. Pray, do not feel as though you must return when you are not ready.”

  Charlotte’s mouth went dry as she looked up into the marquess’ face. The flickering lanterns on either side of them sent rippling shadows across his features, and Charlotte found herself watching them intently. He had not yet let go of her arm, his fingers burning holes into her glove, the warmth of his hand searing her skin. Her breath caught as the smile slowly left his face, replaced with an intense gaze that had her transfixed.

  Her attraction to this man could not be denied.

  “I do beg your pardon, Miss Richardson,” he whispered, dropping his hand and stepping a little further back. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  Trying to find her voice, Charlotte managed a small smile. “Truly, you did not,” she managed to say, her voice a breathy whisper. “You are very kind, my lord.”

  His half smile made her stomach curl. “Then shall we walk?” He held out his arm to her, one eyebrow lifted.

  Charlotte was torn. She wanted to walk with him, of course, but it would be less than proper, and she was not quite sure what Lady Perrin would say when she discovered it.

  “We will not be long,” he continued, as she hesitated. “We will return before they have even missed us.”

  Finding that she could not deny him any longer, Charlotte put her hand on his arm and, smiling up at him, began to walk down the steps and into the gardens. The myriad of sensations cascading all through her had her feeling as though she were walking through clouds, not quite sure where to put her feet as she became lost in the heady sensation on being on the marquess’ arm.

  “I thank you for walking with me,” the marquess said softly, as they made their way through the gardens. “I had thought I required solitude, but now it seems your company is just the ticket.”

  Remembering what her friend had told her, Charlotte glanced up at him. “And do you often like to be alone?”

  The grin on his face was immediate. “You have heard what people have said of me then?” He chuckled, waving away her protests. “Yes, I do enjoy being alone at times. I find the many, many acquaintances a little overwhelming.”

  “I can imagine,” Charlotte replied, with a little more vehemence than she had intended. “But I had thought gentlemen appreciated company.”

  “Oh, but we do,” he replied, with a warm smile. “But only specific company will do for me.” He paused in his steps and looked down at her, holding her gaze with his own. “Your company I find to be most refreshing.”

  Charlotte blushed, glad that the darkness would hide her burning cheeks. “And yet we have only had a very brief acquaintance. I might turn out to be just like all the other young ladies who seek out your company.”

  Although she had spoken lightly, Charlotte saw—much to her dismay—the smile leaving the marquess’ lips and a deep frown furrowing his brows.

  “I did not mean it,” she promised, growing a little worried as to his reaction. “I did not mean to distress you.”

  His gaze slowly refocused on her, the tension slowly leaving his body. “This was, perhaps, a bad idea,” he murmured, turning around abruptly and beginning to walk back towards the house. “Come, Miss Richardson. I should not have taken you out in such a way. Most improper.” He did not so much as even glance down at her, his expression blank. “I do not know what I was thinking,” he continued, as though talking to himself. “Anyone could see us.”

  A ripple of unease raced through Cha
rlotte’s mind. “If you think I am going to cry foul, then you are quite mistaken,” she exclaimed, huffing a little with the effort of being hurried along so quickly. “For heaven’s sake, Lord Withington, stop!”

  With a huge effort, she tore her hand from under his arm and stopped dead, quite angry with the abrupt manner in which he had tried to hurry her back inside. After all, the stroll in the gardens had been his idea.

  “Can you kindly explain what it is you are doing, Lord Withington?” she asked between breaths. “I do not appreciate being half dragged back towards the house.

  He frowned, his jaw clenched. “I simply thought it best that…. Well, just suppose someone else were to see us, it would be my word against yours.”

  Charlotte’s anger blazed into a furnace at once. “Your word against mine?” she repeated, her fingers curling into fists. “You think that I would use this situation to my own advantage?” Her voice was rising as her anger burned, but Charlotte did not care. Apparently, the only reason he was trying to get her back inside was because he was under some mistaken idea that she was going to use it to her advantage. How dare he? He did not even know her, yet he presumed she would behave in such a way. The very impertinence of the man!

  “If you will excuse me, Lord Withington, I believe I shall make my own way inside,” she said tightly, her fingers itching to grasp his lapels and shake him in frustration. “After all, we would not want anyone to see us coming in together.”

  She could not keep the sarcasm from her voice, and without waiting for his response, turned on her heel and marched back towards the house, her cheeks burning with anger.

  7

  Try as she might, Charlotte could not get Lord Withington out of her mind. She should not be thinking of him at all, given how poorly he had treated her, but she found herself almost constantly thinking of him.

  He had been so warm towards her, only for his demeanor to turn quite cool as he had attempted to hurry her back inside. Did he truly believe that she would have cried foul in an attempt to make it look as though she were compromised? That said very little about how well he thought of her. He must consider her fickle and capricious, apparently desperate for a husband and willing to try to wed the wealthiest one she could at whatever cost.

  Her lips thinned. She could not bear thinking of it and yet, there he was, still in her thoughts.

  It probably would not hurt so much if you did not find yourself so drawn to him.

  The quiet voice in her head made her pause, her heart slowly sinking into her stomach. She did not want to admit that she found the marquess attractive, but there was no denying it. He was handsome and amiable, and their conversations—although brief—had been pleasant enough. She had hoped to get to know him a little better over the course of the next few weeks, but after his behavior towards her the prior evening, she was not quite sure what to do.

  And yet, there was something in what he had done. It was a peculiar thing to simply turn around and begin to drag your partner back indoors, worrying that they were going to cry compromise. Had something happened to him that had made him believe she would do so? His change in demeanor had been so swift that even now she was a little overwhelmed by it. Was it worth giving him a chance to explain?

  “He will need to apologize first,” she determined crossly. “Then, we shall see.”

  “You!”

  The door flew open, slamming hard against the wall and, as Charlotte lifted her head, she saw Lady Emma standing, framed, in the doorway. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes blazing and lips pulled into a tight line.

  “Lady Emma,” Charlotte replied, calmly, ignoring the winding spiral of anxiety in her chest. “Is something the matter?”

  “You are a conniving little schemer, that is what is the matter!” Lady Emma screeched, storming into the room and coming closer to Charlotte. “How dare you try and steal the marquess?”

  Charlotte stared at her, wondering if her stepsister had lost her head. “What are you talking about, Emma?” she asked, dropping her stepsister’s formal title. “I certainly am not trying to steal anyone.”

  “I saw you!” Lady Emma cried, her cheeks burning bright red. “You went out and the marquess followed. What are you trying to do? Have a secret liaison with him in the hope of catching his hand?”

  Charlotte rose to her feet, an uncomfortable sensation rippling up her spine. “Emma,” she said, as evenly as she could, “I went out for a breath of fresh air, and the marquess simply happened to come out around the same time as I did. It was not intentional. I think he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.” She was determined not to lose her temper in front of her stepsister, even though her fingers slowly began to curl into fists.

  “Liar!” Lady Emma shouted, unexpectedly slapping Charlotte hard across the face. “I know you are trying to entrap him! He is not for you, Charlotte!”

  Staggering back, Charlotte pressed one hand to her cheek, stunned at what her stepsister had done. However, she was not about to give in to tears, even though they pressed heavily against her eyes.

  “How often do I have to tell you to stay away from those of my acquaintance?” Lady Emma hissed, looking quite unrepentant. “That includes the marquess, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte dropped her hand from her cheek and gazed at her stepsister, lifting her chin. “But the marquess is not acquainted with you, Emma. In fact, he is only really acquainted with me. Although I should probably thank you for locking me in that room. If you had not, then he might never have found me, and I would not have had the pleasure of his company.” A sardonic smile tugged at her lips, satisfaction growing in her chest as she saw Lady Emma’s eyes narrow. “And, no matter how many times you warn me, I will speak to whomever I choose. You do not have any rights over me, Emma. I am not your father. I will not bow to your iron will, just because you desire it.”

  For a moment, there was a brief silence and Charlotte felt a sense of triumph. It was not long lasting, however, for Lady Emma let out a blood-curdling scream and launched herself at Charlotte who, not expecting it in the least, fell heavily to the floor. Lady Emma screamed vehement curses down on Charlotte’s head, scratching wildly, pulling her hair for all she was worth and trying her best to inflict as much pain as possible.

  “Lady Emma!”

  At the sound of Lady Perrin’s voice, Lady Emma stopped her vicious onslaught almost at once. Bruised and sore all over, Charlotte closed her eyes and waited until Lady Emma rose to her feet, completely stunned over what had just occurred. Apparently, Lady Emma was not used to having such a strong force of will going against her own.

  “What in heavens name do you think you are doing?” Lady Perrin asked, striding over and grasping Lady Emma’s arm, dragging her away from Charlotte. “My goodness, child. This is beyond the pale!”

  “She has no intention of leaving the marquess alone!” Lady Emma shrieked, her skin now blotchy and red. “She wants him for herself; she is trying everything she can to make herself his bride.”

  “Enough!” Lady Perrin exclaimed, holding out her hand to Charlotte, who got to her feet carefully. “My goodness, what have you done to your stepsister?”

  Charlotte tried to smile but discovered that her mouth was sore and split and that she could taste blood. “I will not do what you ask, Lady Emma,” she mumbled, touching her lip delicately. “I have every right to speak to whomever I choose. After all, you are not the only one who considers matrimony in their future.”

  Lady Emma lunged for her again, only for Lady Perrin to step in, blocking her way.

  “I think it best you return to your chamber, Lady Emma,” she said firmly, grasping her arm and walking her to the door.

  Despite Lady Emma’s howls of protest, Lady Perrin practically frogmarched her from the room, closing the door behind them both.

  Charlotte collapsed into a chair, not quite sure what to do. She did not want to ring the bell for the maid, knowing that rumors would spread like wildfire should she do s
o. She had never once thought that Lady Emma would ever physically attack her, but apparently, she did not know her stepsister as well as she thought.

  And yet, Charlotte was not swayed in her determination to continue her acquaintance with the marquess, as well as with any other gentlemen she chose. She knew that, at some point, she would need to marry and certainly was not going to be a quiet wallflower until Lady Emma found herself her own husband first.

  “My goodness, I do not know what has come over that girl.” Lady Perrin stepped back into the room, carrying a tray with a bowl of water and a few cloths. “I am terribly sorry, Charlotte.”

  “It is not your doing,” Charlotte replied, as Lady Perrin sat opposite her, looking at her with a concerned eye. “Is it very bad?”

  Lady Perrin did not immediately answer, putting the cloth into the bowl and soaking it for a moment. “Once we have cleaned up the blood and sorted your hair, then I do not think it shall look as unsightly as it does now,” she said eventually, in her usual practical manner. “But I am going to have to consider what to do with Lady Emma.” She shook her head, her lips a thin line. “I have never seen her lose her temper in such a way as this. Thank goodness her father is not here.”

  Charlotte sighed heavily, letting out a loud hiss as Lady Perrin began to delicately wipe the deep scratches on her cheek. “She does not want me to go near those she considers potential husbands,” she said softly. “I know the easy answer would be to do as she asks, but—”

  “No, you must not do that,” Lady Perrin said firmly, her eyes fixed on Charlotte’s face. “You have your own happiness to consider.” She regarded Charlotte carefully for a moment. “The Marquess of Withington, is it? The one who found you in that room?”

  Charlotte blushed despite herself. “Yes, Lady Emma does not want me near him. I think she was upset because she saw him follow me out to the gardens last evening and made an incorrect assumption.” She closed her eyes tightly, wincing as blood was cleaned from her mouth. “The marquess simply wanted a little fresh air and was surprised to find me there, I believe.”