The Deceptive Earl: Lady Charity Abernathy: A Regency Romance Novel

by Isabella Thorne

  The room was a crush. Even spilling out of doors, the place was full to overflowing. Hundreds of ladies and gentlemen were gathered around pools and fountains. The place was lighted as if it were daylight with lanterns hung everywhere. In a daze, as her eyes skimmed over the heads of the crowd before her, she wondered if somewhere in that crowd was her future husband. The thought gave her pause. One glance over toward her mother revealed a similar line of thought in the lady’s head. Pursed lips with a slight lift that the corners meant that the Countess was pleased with the sheer number of gentlemen in attendance. Charity would be expected to be accommodating to someone or other. If she played her cards right, she might be able to hide amongst the crowd outside of her mother’s range of influence. Then, she might actually enjoy the evening in the presence of her friends.

  Her mother’s whisper in her ear naming several introductions that she must wheedle out of the crowd left Charity feeling less excited for the evening that she had hoped. There were tasks to accomplish, despite the heat, that would take all of her focus and charm to achieve.

  Still once inside the ballroom, Charity and James slipped away from the Lady Shalace, who was caught up by a snare of busybodies recruiting for some philanthropic venture. Mrs. Thompson was in the midst of it, so Charity thought her mother would be some time extricating herself. Charity found some friends of her own, including the Poppy sisters, among the crush of people. The Poppy sisters greeted Charity with a warm embrace and they began to share plans for the rest of the summer in Bath.

  Lady Beresford joined their number, while several other ladies scanned the crowd for prospects. Charity didn’t comment on the subject until Patience prodded her gently. “And you, Charity? Has a gentleman caught your eye?”

  Charity startled at the innocent question, as if Patience knew she had been thinking of The Earl of Wentwell. Charity would have quizzed Patience upon her companion for the strange bit of shopping they had done, but Reginald appeared at his sister’s elbow, and Charity felt uncomfortable talking about Lord Wentwell with the gentleman’s acquaintance here at hand.

  Instead, she changed the subject. “Is your Lord Beresford still not arrived in Bath?” she asked of Patience.

  “My husband just arrived earlier today with his brother, Samuel and the fleet. Lady Amelia has also come with her Aunt Ebba.

  “And my own Captain Hartfield,” Lavinia added as she appeared at Charity’s shoulder. The former Miss Lavinia Grant had married the dashing Captain Johnathan Hartfield of the Royal Navy.

  Charity smiled brightly at her friend, and turned to see that she had also arrived in the company of Julia, the newly made Baroness Fawkland.

  Charity barely suppressed a squeal at the pair’s arrival.

  Julia greeted Charity warmly and asked after her mother.

  Charity grimaced.

  “Still quite the same then, Lavinia teased, her laughter bubbling from her. All three women had to smile. The young Mrs. Hartfield resembled nothing so much as a small blond China doll. Lavinia had traveled to Bath with Charity to await her husband, but Charity had not seen Julia since her wedding and she had missed her quiet friend these past few months.

  “Married life seems to agree with you, your ladyship.” Charity said with a grin.

  Julia blushed shyly still not used to her new title as Baroness Fawkland.

  Julia was quite tall with a vast quantity of dark locks which normally tumbled to her shoulders in unruly curls. Still nothing could dispel her stately beauty. Today her hair was caught up in a more matronly style. It still curled, but it was pulled up in jeweled comb. Charity always wondered how long it took Julia’s maid to arrange the curls just so. She must have to sit for hours. Charity shuddered at the thought. She was glad that Jean was deft and quick with her own locks.

  “Why didn’t you send word you were in Bath?” Charity continued. “We might have had tea and talked.” The girls had always had tea together when Julia arrived in Bath, and they talked about their plans for the summer. It was practically a tradition.

  “Lord Fawkland and I got in after tea time yesterday, and we had so much to do,” Julia admitted and Charity suppressed her pang of sadness at the broken tradition with the promise that they would have tea another afternoon. Julia was married, but still she knew how little Julia liked large gatherings, and the ballroom was particularly a crush.

  “I did not really expect to see you here, Julia,” Charity said. “I know you hate crowds.”

  Lord Fawkland reminded me that as the baroness, I have a duty to be seen. Anyway, I could hardly stay away,” Julia said. “Lavinia twisted my arm most ardently. After all, what sort of friends would we be to leave you here alone for the opening ball, when it has always been us three?”

  For a moment, Charity felt almost at home. She had her friends around her, but when Baron Fawkland returned with drinks for his wife and Lavinia, and the topic turned to redecorating Julia’s townhouse in Bath, she felt somewhat out of place in the matronly conversation.

  Charity watched with no small amount of jealousy as her friends held on to the arms of their new husbands. Charity was amazed at how quickly things might change. Only last summer the three ladies had been giggling and weaving though the crowds in pursuit of love together. Now, Charity felt like a spinster, left behind as the two of them shared secrets with their spouses. In no time at all they would have children and she feared they would grow even more apart.

  She shook that thought from her head. Charity was nowhere near the age of a spinster. Her mother’s lectures must have been taking hold of her thoughts because Charity knew well that she still had many years before she was past her prime.

  She turned her attention to the unmarried ladies in their party: the three younger Poppy sisters, Alfreda, Roberta and Francesca, as well as their friend Miss Flora Muirwood. Flora was shorter than the Poppy’s with a sallow complexion. She had dark hair and dark eyebrows that resisted being arched which gave her a serious expression. With the crowd of chattering females around her, Charity learned a great deal of the gossip running through the summer season as they waited and weighed the different gentlemen who had come to Bath.

  “Mr. Crafton, over there,” Roberta Poppy gave a covert nod to the gentleman across the way, “made quite a fool of himself today. I heard tell.”

  “What source?” James gasped in mock surprise.

  “Why, you, of course!” his sister replied giving her brother a little push. “Go on then. Tell the tale.”

  James went on to share that this afternoon past he witnessed one Mr. Crafton being bodily expelled from the gaming room at nearly midday.

  “For shame, Mr. Poppy, spreading gossip,” Julia admonished him. “You should know better.”

  “I shall bow to your chastisement, Lady Fawkland,” he said with a literal bow, and Charity found herself smiling.

  “Mr. Crafton has a…more sober countenance tonight,” James observed. “It is astonishing that he has managed to join us.” His tone implied that he was not fond of Mr. Crafton, though Charity knew few who were. The gentleman was known well throughout Bath as one who fell too far into his cups, often making some scene or another. True ladies knew well to give him a wide berth.

  “It appears the fleet has landed,” Baron Fawkland said as several men in naval dress uniforms entered the ballroom.

  Patience’s eyes took in the new arrivals and she caught Charity’s arm. “Oh, do look! Amelia has arrived, and Commander Beresford. Let us go and speak to them. You might offer your congratulations.” Charity nodded to Patience but hesitated as several of the men moved to greet the new arrivals. When Charity has last spoken socially with Lady Amelia Atherton, she had cross words for her. There was of course, the event of The Duke of Ely’s funeral, but Lady Amelia had been too distraught to truly speak, and Charity had yet not apologized.

  “Go on,” Charity said. “I will join you shortly.” In truth, Charity could not find it in herself to approach Lady Amelia until she apologize
d for her unkind words, and that would not happen in so public a place. Charity turned back to the Poppys, determined to have a good time and put all the intrigues of finding a husband in the background for the moment. She was inundated with offers to dance and laughing, she accepted. After several dances she returned to the section of the ball room the Poppys had claimed for their own.

  She noticed Miss Macrum, and wondered aloud, “Where is Miss Danbury?” The two women were not often seen apart. The detail was notable. Neither Miss Macrum, nor Miss Danbury would wish to miss such a varied array of gentlemen for single evening. No one who was anyone missed the opening ball of the Bath’s summer season.

  The crowd fell silent around Charity. The buzz of the room carried on, but Charity’s circle of friends stared back at her with wide, shocked eyes as if she had said something scandalous.

  “What is it?” Charity asked with a shake of her head. “Have I missed something?”

  “Something?” Francesca laughed. “Only everything!”

  The youngest of the Poppy sisters linked her arm through her friend’s and moved close to whisper the tale of intrigue and scandal.

  “Miss Danbury has removed from Bath,” Franny murmured. The others stepped closer to hear the sweet gossip retold, adding their own nods and details as she went.

  “No!” Charity gasped. There were only two reasons why a lady might remove at the height of the social season, death or dishonor.

  “She has returned to her country house,” Alfreda said. “Practically flogged by that dragon of a chaperone she has. Although it is no wonder…”

  Dishonor it was then. “Mrs. Mott?” Charity was having trouble catching up to this particular bit of gossip, and how far along it went.

  “Tis true,” Lavinia nodded. “Their townhouse is across the road from my aunt’s and it stands empty. The entire family has left: her sisters, and her elderly aunt. Her father seemed in quite a rage at the time of their departure.”

  “They never even bid farewell, though they had borrowed our horses the day before,” James added with a shake of her head.

  “How rude,” Roberta commented.

  “This is all very suspect,” Julia said, “but I will not add to the rumor, not should you Lavinia. You know how these things take on a mind of their own.”

  “True,” Charity said. “Perhaps Miss Danbury expected an offer?”

  “Perhaps,” Alfreda said, “But such things almost always turn out badly for the lady.”

  “I suppose we shall not see her again for a year,” Roberta said as she took a sip from her cup, and Charity’s question was answered.

  Charity felt her jaw drop in unladylike shock. She snapped it closed before she might be seen catching flies.

  Every year there was a rumor that some lady or another had become with child, but more often than not it turned out to be false. Charity was not truly friends with Miss Danbury, but she would not wish her ill.

  “So is it suspect or confirmed?” she asked.

  “Confirmed as to her condition,” Flora added. “Her maid would walk to the market with ours, and she let slip that the lady had been quite ill in the mornings. A doctor had been called so I would suppose a babe is within.”

  “Are you sure this is truth, Flora,” Julia asked. “It is possible for a lady to be ill with some ague or even tainted food.” Julia was ever the one to err on the side of caution, but Flora shook her head sadly.

  “I cannot believe it,” Charity shook her head. Though, she did believe every word. Miss Danbury was well known for her forward nature and widespread flirtation. She had quite the reputation though Charity had never suspected that her behavior would have gone so far as to have relations with a man. The thought made Charity’s stomach churn. Miss Danbury would be ruined forever. Surely the gentleman would do the right by her and marry her.

  “And what of the gentleman?” Charity asked. “Is he known?”

  “No,” James interrupted, shaking his head.

  “Yes,” Lavinia and Roberta stated in unison.

  “Well,” Charity laughed. “Which is it?”

  “It has not been formally acknowledged,” Francesca provided. “There has been no talk of a union. All the more shame to his character for it.”

  “To whom do you refer?” James challenged the ladies in general and his sisters in particular.

  “You know who,” His sister, Francesca blurted.

  “Not Lord Wentwell. We have discussed this and I cannot agree.”

  “Lord Wentwell!” Charity gasped aloud. Only earlier this week, she had found herself in close quarters with the rake. Now, her encounter at the marketplace seemed all the more cause for concern. What if someone had been seen? What if she might now be labeled by his follies?

  The Poppy’s argument flowed around her and Charity could make no sense of it. The Poppy sisters seemed adamant that the gentleman was Wentwell, and James seemed just as adamant that it was not.

  “That you would take his part,” Alfreda shot at her brother. “Is more shame to you, James.”

  James harrumphed and stalked away.

  The ladies began to titter and seemed that before the family’s hasty departure, Miss Danbury’s father had been to see Lord Wentwell and all were suspicious of his involvement. James and the other gentlemen defended the Earl with vigor, though they could provide no proof to dispel the ladies’ claims. Even James’ own sisters were having none of it. Surely there must be some truth to the tale then.

  Charity shook her head. She had tangled with the devil and come out unscathed. A sigh of relief was all that she could muster. Miss Danbury, or any lady for that matter, was at risk of falling for Lord Wentwell’s varied charms. Charity would not be surprised that one, or many, ladies had found themselves falling into his arms… or his bed. He was a silver tongued serpent, but he was also so exceedingly handsome.

  She felt her cheeks flush at the thought and made a comment about the heat of the room to divert any suspicion.

  Roberta interrupted. “He had already gained a reputation as a rake. Now being caught alone with him, even though I doubt he would be a villain, could still…um…be detrimental for ladies of our stature.”

  Charity’s eyes flew wide. “But Miss Danbury is the daughter of a Baronet. She is not some commoner’s daughter, and this is an earl we are discussing. Should he not be a gentleman?”

  Alfreda Poppy said, “I’m sure he realizes we are commoner’s daughters, but that does not make the act less reprehensible, earl or no.”

  “Oh,” Charity said realizing she had been insensitive.

  The others glanced at each other and scoffed. “He certainly is insistent to have his way. I would not dare be caught truly alone with him,” Flora said suddenly serious, her color high. Charity prayed that none would hear tell that she had already shared a moment alone with the gentleman. Nothing had happened, of course, but rumors, spread like fire, once caught.

  Charity sat fanning herself vigorously, and thought that it could just be the summer heat, that had caused her to flush, but she didn’t think so. The conversation made Charity more hesitant, and cross, by the minute. If only she had known the gossip but a few hours sooner. While she sat here in agony, the other ladies giggled about his fine form and impressive stature.

  She was relieved when the conversation took a more agreeable turn. The few remaining gentlemen went in search of libations. It was far too hot in the crowded room to not have something to sip on for relief. Charity’s fan was doing little but moving the hot air around.

  After the gentlemen’s removal from the conversation, the topic would not be squashed. The whispers were too rabid to be put to rest. “Ah, there is the reprobate,” Flora whispered.

  “Is he here?” inquired Charity looking from Lavinia to Flora “Surely not.” Perhaps he had not the gall to show his face in a crowd after such a recent revelation.

  “He is. No, don’t look now,” Lavinia warned as Charity attempted to look over her shoulder. “H
e is walking with your brothers,” she informed the Poppy sisters. Her tone revealed that she was displeased that James had run to speak to the object of their conversation, perhaps to warn him of the rumor. “I would have thought better of your brother.”

  James, as if aware of their speculation glanced in the ladies’ direction.

  Flora smiled down into her cup, a blush coloring her cheeks. She lifted her brown eyes and met Charity’s sharp blue ones.

  “James would not be friends with him if he were such a villain,” Flora defended Wentwell. He is forward and roguish, but I do not think he would…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I mean, there is Miss Danbury, but she has always been a bit of a hoyden, hasn’t she?”

  “You only have to look at how she dresses,” Roberta added.

  Charity suddenly felt self-conscious of her low cut neckline and obscured it with her fan.

  The girls tittered their agreement.

  “Well,” Charity said sharply, snapping her fan shut, she folded her hands primly around it. “If he is so roguish, I shall have nothing at all to do with him. I am looking for a husband, not a dalliance, and so should you be.” Charity tried to put on a serious face for the young ladies. After all she was several years the girls’ senior, save for Alfreda.

  Charity assured herself she wanted nothing more to do with the gentleman. “We shall not risk our reputations for his entertainment,” She reopened her fan and wafted it in from of her face as if she could wave the entire matter away as easily.

  “Thank you, Charity,” Julia put into the conversation. “We are married ladies now. Lavinia and I are under obligation to set an example for the young ladies, especially those in their first season.” Julia threw the young Francesca a look.

  “You are quite right, Julia,” Lavinia said primly, as if finally realizing what they had been discussing. “It is not seemly for any lady to engage in gossip, and this is not at all proper genteel conversation for a lady, especially, an unmarried lady.”