And in truth, Dearing had had enough. It didn’t signify that it was well before their work’s completion or that his secretary meant to offer assistance. The last thread of patience snapped. “Yes, quiet would be welcome. I find I’m in no mood for bits of wisdom and tomfoolery.” Pity he vented his spleen now of all times. “Even the greenest apprentice knows when to shut his gob and blend into the woodwork. Most especially when I’ve indicated I require no counsel. Still you continue, and because I cannot bear another word, you’re dismissed.”
“Pardon, milord.” Despite the effect of unadulterated sunlight, Faxman paled considerably. “If I’ve overstepped . . .” His voice trailed off and he stepped back, as if to reject the supposition.
“For the day, Faxman.” Dearing blew out an exhalation in degrees, aware he’d behaved as the biggest cad. “You’re dismissed for the day.”
“Right.” The secretary gathered his bag with alacrity. “Then I’ll be off without delay.”
Dearing felt no better for having scared his man of business. Yet the same shrewd acumen that enabled him to build substantial wealth from a humble title emboldened his next decision.
He took the treads two at a time and strode down the hall toward Charlotte’s bedchambers, all the while his heart thudding in his chest, to kill him or keep him alive he didn’t know. What had she done? Not given herself to another. He refused to believe it, though Mallory’s insidious suggestions eviscerated better logic. He rapped on her door with insistence, too angry to pause long enough to consider the consequences of his actions.
The door cracked open and Charlotte peered through the narrow space. “Jeremy?”
She appeared startled. Guilty. For surely his wife didn’t expect him to chase her down and demand answers, but she was caught well and good and he wouldn’t allow her to put him off.
“Open the door.” He laid his palm against the panel, at the ready to force himself inside if she meant to bar him entrance, but it wasn’t necessary. With a slight furrowing of her brow, she stepped back and released the knob. He made quick work of shutting it behind him. “Where were you yesterday afternoon?”
Her face expressed and discarded a series of reactions. “You’re angry.”
Would she expect otherwise? “I asked a simple question. Where were you?”
“I can’t say.”
She didn’t appear proud of her answer. Nevertheless, it fired jealousy in his blood, searing a path to his brain to obliterate coherent thought. “Ah, but there you’re mistaken. You will not say. Let me make something perfectly clear. You won’t go out without telling me. I will know where you are at all times. You’re my wife.” Anger equaled by fear caused him to spout the ridiculous commands, although when he’d barked the final sentence he experienced a wash of possessive pride.
She seemed unaffected.
“This is my home, not a prison.” Her words rang true, though he rejected their sensibility.
“Where were you?” He clenched his fists at his sides, the words bitter on his tongue, and the wall between them became thicker, not by way of rational discussion, but the other way around. “I had a visit to make. An errand to run.”
She seemed unusually cautious with her answers, or did he imagine it?
“Is that the truth, Charlotte?” He’d offer her every advantage in desperate want for there to be a logical reason she’d abandon propriety and sneak off to another man’s home. Yet he couldn’t imagine one.
“Louisa asked for my assistance. Nothing more.” She backed away, as if she wished to separate herself from the words. Or from him.
“As I recall, you mentioned a visit to Amelia.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh in a useless effort to decrease his anger. Just the thought of another man anywhere near his wife caused a strike in temper so strong and wicked, he didn’t know what to do with the force. “That’s the trouble with lies. They often get tangled with truth and become indecipherable after a time. You should admit all of it, because I know differently.”
“What do you mean?” Her brows raised in question, though a flash of challenge lit her face. Then her expression changed altogether.
He stepped closer, wanting to see her eyes when he exposed the mistruths she’d fed him. Needing to witness every emotion, no matter each one would be a shard of glass to pierce his heart. “You went to your home and then took a hired hack to Mayfair.” He should assemble the offered facts into a practical conversation, but his mouth seemed disconnected from his brain. “You went to meet someone, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Something close to disbelief or injury clouded her expression. “But it’s not what you think.”
“How would you know what I think? You haven’t told me the truth.” His voice rang out, arrogant and demanding against the watered silk walls, and with it his wife’s posture transformed.
She squared her shoulders. Her back became ramrod straight. “What difference does it make whether you know the truth? You’ve created your own version and have already decided I’ve betrayed you.” Anger sharpened her reply. She was no watering pot who would acquiesce easily.
“I’ve said nothing about betrayal.” Every muscle in his body tensed. “Though the word is quick to leave your tongue.”
“I’ve not done so.” She looked him in the eye. “You must believe me.”
“For what reason? You’ve offered me no explanation.”
“But I have.”
“You’re the one who asked for no secrets.” He spoke with incisive authority, a trap well planned and sprung. “When what you really meant is do as I say, not as I do.”
She stood determined, and he couldn’t help acknowledge much more was at play then her unexpected jaunt. A long minute passed, her eyes filled with sorrow, and his heart clenched. A part of him feared her confession. They’d promised no secrets and he didn’t wish to hear one, but she’d left him no choice. He wouldn’t be cuckolded, despite that he loved her deeply.
“I’ve sworn loyalty to my sister Louisa, but you must know it in no way reflects upon our relationship.”
Something akin to conflicted amusement danced in her eyes. Was she laughing at him?
“Bloody hell.” He strode forward. If he didn’t leave immediately, he would say and do things he would never be able to erase. “I’m leaving.” He moved toward the door.
“And where will you go? Downstairs to your precious study to fabricate more ridiculous notions concerning my whereabouts?” Emotion forced her voice higher, and he heard her footsteps behind him.
“I owe you the same amount of truth you’ve granted me.” He glanced over his shoulder and turned the knob. Words, even words would betray him if he spoke further. “Why would I tell you when you won’t tell me?” He’d reduced himself to a child’s argument. With that realization, he slammed the door behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte rode toward her parents’ house with a bundle of raw emotion eating away at her. She had no right to a feeling of happiness, having argued heatedly with her husband. Her maid, on the banquette beside her, likely wondered at Charlotte’s intermittent smile, considering the eager method in which she’d planned this exit and hied to the carriage. Yet Charlotte couldn’t help but delight in Dearing’s show of bold possessiveness, and dare she believe a more fervent emotion? Jealousy. Jealousy implied he cared for her beyond a kiss or an intimate touch, and that he’d developed deep commitment to their marriage.
Unfortunately, an opposing argument could possibly be true. To regard their relationship in more phlegmatic terms, he’d paid for her compliance by rescuing her family from debt and ruin. Therefore, he had the right to judge her and otherwise make the rules of the house, the same by which she was expected to obey.
Either way, before she could sort out her feelings for her husband and convince him he owned her heart, she needed to resolve Louisa’s predicament, hence the hasty trip to her familial home.
If only her husband proved easier to unriddle. O
ne minute he kissed her with enough passion to scorch her soul, the next he shut himself away. What did he guard so intensely? And why did he propose in the first place if he desired hardly a marriage at all? She wrapped an arm around her midsection, a silent acknowledgment of her solitary emptiness, the familiar ache for a child abloom once again.
Still, despite her best attempt to calm herself, it seemed the rocking motion of the carriage shook loose the questions she’d painstakingly battled into silence. If only she knew what Jeremy wanted from their union. Companionship? His fickle schedule and unexpected mood shifts seemed to reject that conclusion. Why hadn’t he opened the adjoining door of their bedchambers until recently? Insecurity rivaled her feelings of inadequacy to secure a stronghold at the pit of her stomach, only to slink upward to her heart. Was she that lacking? And too there was the matter of her family’s financial difficulties and Dearing’s sudden appearance at their home, all too ready to rescue her father and claim her hand in exchange. Thereafter, he’d disappeared on a business trip for weeks on end. So much seemed unthinkable, clouded by confusion and assumption. When she’d last spoken to her father, he’d shared information she’d never known. Another conversation was due.
The carriage rolled to a stop, effectively forcing her thoughts to reorder themselves. Once inside and installed in the drawing room, she waited for the flurry of attention her visits usually garnered, but none was forthcoming. With impatience, she wandered to the lonely pianoforte, nothing more than a piece of furniture in the room now that she’d left. Lifting the cover, she pressed a few chords before her sister’s voice drew quick attention.
“Charlotte, I wasn’t expecting you. Have you brought news?”
Louisa came forward, only to pause, then close the doors to safeguard against overheard conversation.
“None other than I’ve already shared, although I feel you’ve been stingy in explanation. You’ve meted the tiniest scraps of information, gained my loyal assistance and put my marriage at risk. Yet while I visit you here today I look worse for the wear.” She hadn’t meant the words to sound sharp though they held an edge.
“Is that true? Does Dearing doubt your love?” Louisa took a seat and wrapped her arms around her middle, her pose an ironic contradiction considering Charlotte’s earlier dismay.
“I can tell you with complete honesty I don’t know what Dearing thinks.” She swallowed deeply to quell a wave of anxious tension. “But I’m not here to discuss my marriage.”
“No. Of course not.” Louisa rose and paced across the thick green carpet. “I’m beginning to believe I’ve caused us all a great deal of worry for nothing.”
“What?” A rush of breath held Charlotte captive until she forced herself to exhale. “What are you talking about and why haven’t you sent word if circumstances have changed? Do you have any idea the misery I’ve experienced?”
No, her sister couldn’t. She was young, flighty at time and likely consumed with her own distress. Still, Charlotte had no intention of detailing how her sister’s predicament had impacted life at Dearing House.
“Last evening, I had the most horrible pains. Sharp ones low in my stomach, but more severe than anything I’ve experienced with my flux. You know my courses have never been regular.” Louisa darted her eyes to the window and back again. “This morning when I awoke, I was bleeding heavily. It appears my body has decided my fate. I don’t know if I overreacted or experienced something heart-wrenching and sorrowful, but I can’t ask Mother to summon a physician without revealing my relations with Lord Gordon, so your visit this morning is timely.” Louisa turned, a morose expression on her face as she settled once again on the settee. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I’ve caused so much agony for absolutely nothing, but I was frightened and had no one else to turn to. Until this very morning, I believed my future was sealed and I was with child.”
Charlotte sat beside Louisa. “I know you were frightened, and I understand why you came to me, although the last week has been difficult for us both. You escaped a harrowing situation with indelible consequences. I hope you realize the lesson in all this turmoil.” She clasped her sister’s hand within her own. “Have you spoken to Lord Gordon?”
“No. Not yet.” Louisa slid her fingers loose and coasted them over her cheek. “I’m uncertain if he’ll court me formally. Mother and Father would give permission, but I wonder if he isn’t more interested in the clandestine adventure of our relationship than the responsibility of a courtship. And too—” Her words stuttered to a reluctant pause. “If I no longer continue our physical relations or suggest marriage as the only condition, he may choose to shift his interest elsewhere. I’ve made so many mistakes. There’s no going back, is there?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Charlotte knew that quandary well. For every step forward within her marriage, it seemed she took several in reverse. “But you’re lovely in every way, Louisa. You will find a husband who loves and respects you for the person you are, regardless of the choices you’ve made.”
“I want to believe that’s true. I’ve sacrificed my virtue for little in return and I must keep this terrible secret locked away or I’ll bring shame and scandal to the family. My choices reflect on all of us. I couldn’t disappoint Mother and Father any more than Dinah and Bunny. Their futures would be ruined along with mine.”
“I’m so sorry, Louisa.” Charlotte tried to reconcile her sister’s emotional chattering. Too many of the thoughts aligned with worries of her own. “But you will find your own way.” It was logical advice, given to her sister and also taken to heart.
“Well, if nothing else, this allows you to repair matters with Lord Dearing. I’m sorry if I caused disharmony in your marriage. You’re the dearest sister and friend to put my needs before your own.” Louisa rose from the cushions and Charlotte followed. They hugged a long while.
“Promise me you’re well. Otherwise I’ll continue to worry.” Charlotte released her sister. “And I’ll resolve my concerns with Dearing, so you needn’t worry on my behalf.”
“I never meant to create all these problems,” Louisa whispered.
“Of course not. People rarely do.”
Louisa left the room and Charlotte returned to the pianoforte, her mind busy with relief for her sister and despair for her problems at home.
“Will you play for me?”
Her father’s cheerful question near the door caused her to startle. “Father, I didn’t know you were here.”
Despite what had transpired with Louisa, a genuine smile lit Charlotte’s face. Her father’s kindness and encouragement provided the ideal tonic for her malaise. She placed a kiss on his warm cheek and they settled near the fireplace.
“And to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” Elias Notley beamed with delight. “Not that I don’t welcome a chance to see my eldest daughter at any opportunity.”
“I decided rather quickly to come.” She forced a wider grin. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of you yesterday, when my man of business delivered a bit of information concerning your husband.”
Charlotte’s pulse leaped. “Concerning Dearing? In what way?”
“You’re happy, aren’t you?” Her father’s face took on a familiar protective expression.
“I’d prefer if our every conversation didn’t include that question.” She tried to laugh but didn’t succeed, unsure how much turmoil to share with her father. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
“No. But while you’ll always have a place here, I need to know if you’ve made Dearing House your home in every sense.”
“Yes, I have.” Her conscience suffered at the half-truth. Anxious to change the subject, she recalled the last time they’d spoken, and her father’s determination to rationalize his investment troubles. “Have you received results from your financial inquiries?”
“The investigator I hired to look into affairs discovered nothing of interest. Yet the three failing busine
sses that forced me to ruin are thriving now, sound and secure, with considerable profit. I suppose it may be no more than an unexplainable anomaly, although at times I wonder if I should consult Dearing. He’s the smartest businessman I know, with an uncanny ability to intuit stocks. With the controlling interest of Middleton Railway in his portfolio, I’m sure his reputation has grown.” Her father chuckled. “He certainly gained the most valuable prize I possessed. And I’m not referring to the railway collateral.” He patted her hand with gentle affection. “You’re far more treasured than a bonded deed.”
She rested her head against her father’s shoulder and breathed easier. “That’s good to know, Father.”
“Know it well. As principal shareholder, your husband will provide you a brilliant future once the rails cross England. Your children and grandchildren will want for nothing. Dearing’s esteemed reputation and vaunted status will provide innumerable opportunities. Security for your future brings peace to my heart.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed his arm and lifted her head as she digested the words more carefully. “So, it’s important then, this Middleton Railway investment?”
“I should say so, although my one share wasn’t worth much until placed in the hands of the holder of a majority. Single shares are hard to come by. Investors hold hope of collecting any available stake to grow their profit once the rails are built. In any case, I was happy to pass my single share to Dearing with your marriage agreement. He rescued our family and I was in no situation to withhold a piece of paper that might benefit my daughter’s future, although I did make a prudent precaution.”
“All this talk of finance is beyond my interest.” She matched eyes with her father’s and waited.
“Indeed.” Notley smiled once again. “And not suitable conversation either.”
“But now you’ve pricked my curiosity. What do you mean by a prudent precaution?” Charlotte’s mind raced with an abundance of questions. Had her father added conditions to the marriage agreement? Dearing was too shrewd to be fooled. What could her father have done? And if discovered, when discovered, would Dearing resent her father’s interference or, instead, blame her and their hasty marriage for any impact? How had things become twice as complicated in half the time?
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