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

by Isabella Thorne

  ~.~

  Charity should have been looking forward to the Drummond garden party. It was always an enjoyable event. Everyone was invited, and most even brought their children. It was a relaxed affair on a lazy summer day. There was no hurry or tension among the picnic goers, but Charity harbored a feeling of urgency in her soul. Her quarrel with Lord Wentwell still occupied her mind no matter how many times she told herself that he was of no consequence.

  Why was it that he kept appearing in her thoughts? The Earl of Wentwell was not for her. She must focus upon finding a truly suitable gentleman for her husband. Yet no man seemed equal to the task. With each passing day she felt her situation grow more urgent. Charity was beginning to feel perhaps her mother was right. She was on her way to being a spinster. Maybe love was an impossible dream. Maybe her mother was right in that as well. She needed to stop being so choosy and just pick someone. Even though she had proven she could match wits with the best of them Charity simply did not want to play these games anymore. Today, Charity thought. Today would be the day, she would choose.

  Charity arrived at the picnic with the Poppy family, all four sisters, both Poppy brothers, Lavinia and Flora. Even the eldest Poppy sister, Constance, her husband Mr. Nash, and her two children were there. Charity found herself sitting among friends, sharing a light conversation with Lavinia, and her captain, Flora, James and his brother Michael.

  Her own mother and James’ parents were conversing just out of earshot. Several other families were milling about laughing and talking. Some of the younger children, attended by governesses or nannies, were playing, most being careful not to muss their clothing. Others were being held up as tiny trophies, dressed in their summer day attire like miniature ladies and gentlemen. It was a very domestic scene and made Charity ache for children of her own.

  Charity looked back at the lively group surrounding her and James smiled at her brightly. She realized with a start that James was a good friend. She saw him almost every day in Bath and yet, she had not seen him. Not truly looked at him. Perhaps he was the solution. James would be an amusing husband. He was lively and full of humor. They had often talked and laughed in easy comradery. There were many couples who made a marriage on little more than that.

  The Poppys were not titled or in possession of much wealth, but their estate was adequate and Charity enjoyed the country. Besides, her own father would not leave her destitute no matter how she wed. She would be provided for, as would her mother. The age difference between her mother and father was apparent to her father long before he became ill, and he was nothing if not attentive to his obligations.

  Once more Charity’s eyes drifted to the gentleman seated across from her. She searched her past interactions with James for any moment or inclination that there might be a future to be had with him. Nothing stood out as more than familial. Still she might do well to test the waters and see if that opinion could change now that they were older.

  James was a gentleman. Charity was surprised that she had not ever really taken note of that fact. And James was handsome. Something inside of her clenched into a hard knot. Not as handsome as The Earl of Wentwell. In fact, who was? She found herself searching the picnic grounds for him, and her eyes lit upon Lord Wentwell and his party some ways away. Lord Wentwell was resplendent in his summer suit, the heat of the day making the garment cling to him. Charity forcefully put a stop to her wandering eye and looked away immediately, her heart aflutter.

  She looked back at James from under her lashes and wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Her wondering brought no flurry of excitement; no feeling of glee like thinking of the Earl did, but perhaps that was just the remnants of anger were still smoldering after their disagreement at the ball. No. James was the perfect candidate for marriage. Charity wondered how she did not see it before.

  James was strong, able, from a good family and a gentleman through and through. Her father would be happy she was settled. She liked James. Her family liked him. Perhaps her mother not so much in status as in person, but Lady Shalace would grow to accept the union. Yes, Charity said, almost to convince herself, she liked James, and marriages were often built on less. Much less, she reminded herself, but as she thought of it, Charity still felt as if she had swallowed a bucket full of ash.

  In agitation she rose to her feet. All of the men rose also. “What is it?” James asked at once.

  “I—I—I’m sorry,” she said embarrassed at her reaction. “I thought I saw a bee. I was mistaken. Please sit. I think I would like a bit of a walk,” she said wrapping her hands around her fan and twisting it with a nervous gesture.

  Michael began to offer his arm, but she turned to James, who after a moment’s hesitation offered his arm instead. “Allow me to escort you,” he said.

  She glanced back at Michael to see his face had darkened with a slight frown, but Lavinia seemed intent on bringing him out of his moodiness. Charity and James left the group and wandered down a wide path.

  “Do you think the Romans walked on this very path?” she asked.

  James lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps,” he said.

  They wandered a bit further in silence, until Charity asked. “Do you know if there is a brook beyond those trees?”

  “There is,” he said.

  She looked at him suddenly, wondering when he had walked so far and with whom. “Let’s see if we can find it,” she said.

  James hesitated. He glanced back at the party gathered behind them. Then he focused on Charity. He shook his head. “Not now,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Is the something you wish to discuss?”

  “Yes.” Charity smiled at him. “You are indeed a good friend, James. I think you know me better than my family does.” She glanced downward suddenly shy to make such a bold proposal to him. She should just wait. He would ask her if she gave him the opportunity. She was sure of it. Surely he could see what a good pair they made. He had been making excuses to spend time with her and her friends for the past few weeks. It was obvious he felt the same way. “So yes,” she said again. “I would very much like to speak with you.” She felt a blush fill her face.

  James looked at her for a long moment. “Very well, then. Let’s walk,” he said, taking her arm, but they didn’t walk as far as the brook or even the trees when he spoke. James patted her hand gently. “There is something I must say first.”

  “Do tell, James.” Charity was actually thankful for the delay because she still was not sure how to broach the subject with James and his hesitancy made her wonder if he was already thinking along the same lines as she. Would he offer for her so soon?

  “It’s about Miss Muirwood,” he said.

  She stopped and stared at him, uncertain of what she heard. “Flora?”

  “Yes. Do you think she will have me?” he asked breathlessly.

  Charity opened her mouth and closed it again. “Flora,” she repeated.

  “Yes, Flora, although she has not given me leave to address her by her given name,” he said and then spoke in a rush. “I know I am not so well off as some, and my family has my sisters to provide for, but we have a house in Bath and another residence in London, though it is perhaps not in the finest neighborhood it is no cause for shame. Our country home is small but quaint and quite beautiful…and comfortable. It is very comfortable. Do you remember it?” He did not wait for her answer but rushed on directly. “Will you speak to her for me, Charity?”

  Charity was gob smacked. She stared, unable to form a single word and the silence drew out.

  “Oh. She does not favor me,” James said miserably. “I had thought… well, hoped…”

  “No,” Charity repeated.

  “No? She doesn’t?”

  “No, I mean she hasn’t said anything, but...” as Charity thought of it, she realized that Flora had let her eyes settle on James far more than once. She had also become a flustered simpleton incapable of speech quite often whenever he was nearby. “No,” Cha
rity said, again swallowing hard. “I think it is a splendid idea. I think she will be quite happy, James. Congratulations.”

  “Truly?” he asked with renewed hope. “Do you mean it?”

  “Truly. Have you spoken to her father?”

  “I have, and I’ve been to visit her several times this past year. Her family’s home is just an hour’s ride from here, and we have shared a great many correspondences.”

  “I see,” Charity said, but then James already had Flora’s approval. He only wanted to stop Charity from making a fool of herself. Did James know what she was about to say? Had he guessed? She felt a blush creeping up her face again, but she was glad he allowed her a way out of the embarrassment. She forced herself to set aside her dashed hopes, and she smiled at him warmly. “I am very happy for you. She will say ‘yes’. I know she will.” Charity looked away with conflicting emotions. On the one hand she was disappointed that she had no easy way out of her present unmarried situation; on the other, she was very glad for Flora that she was getting such a fine man.

  “Do you love her?” Charity blurted at once and without thought.

  James frowned. “Charity…”

  “Oh, James. Please forgive my forwardness. I suppose I just want to know if there is hope. My mother tells me that to wish for love is a vain pursuit. Is it James? I ask because I need to know. Are my own hopes of marrying for love so far-fetched? Am I dreaming for something unrealistic and unattainable?”

  James grew solemn. “Charity, I cannot answer for you. Only for me. Flora makes my heart sing. If I only give her half the joy she gives me, she will be the happiest woman in the world, for there is nothing, I would not do for her happiness. Nothing I would rather do than be with her, but it is a rare thing, love. People like us, Charity, people of stature; we have much to worry over, lands, laws, titles and inheritances. Love is often a luxury reserved for those who have little else.”

  Charity sighed deeply and her heart sank. “It is not fair. Why can’t I find love, James? Am I too forward? Too free with my thoughts?”

  “I cannot tell you,” James said, “but there are many men who would do well to woo you. You will find the right person as I have. Come, now. Let us return to the others before we are overly missed.”

  Charity realized he wanted to enjoy Flora’s company.

  She looked back to James and smiled. “I am happy for you, James. I truly am.”

  The two of them strolled back slowly to the others and Charity caught her friend Flora’s eye. Flora blushed furiously and looked down, making Charity think that she would have to quiz Flora upon the details of her courtship with James at the earliest possible opportunity. How could she not have told Charity? But Charity couldn't ask now in present mixed company. She was forced to allow the group to enjoy the remainder of their lazy summer day, all the while observing the warm glances exchanged between Flora and James. How could she have not seen it before?

  Although there was still the space on the picnic blanket that Charity and James had vacated when they left their friends, James shuffled the entirety of the party around saying they should turn to avoid the glare of the afternoon sun. He made much ado of putting the ladies in the shade. Charity thought that the movement was so that he could sit beside Flora. He unobtrusively touched his fingers to hers as he sat. The girl beamed up at him, and Charity felt her friend’s smile like a spike in her heart.

  Charity was happy for the pair, she truly was, but inside her heart was breaking, not because she held any romantic inclination toward James, but because he and Flora were just two more friends who were going to disappear into the realm of married couples, leaving her alone. Was everyone able to find love but her? The specter of being an old maid loomed even larger in her mind. If not James, who? Now, she must cast a wider net if she wished to achieve her goal by the end of the summer, or at least by the end of the season.

  The shifting left her sitting beside Michael. She glanced up at him through her lashes. Michael was the steadier sort. He spoke with intelligence of the war with Napoleon and his march across Europe, and yet did not make much of it, so as not to frighten the other women. Charity could have told him she had already read much of the politics to her father so the news would not frighten her. She had great faith in the English to repel all invaders. Why had she not seriously considered Michael as a suitor? She considered him now.

  He was not ugly, quite the opposite. He was only quiet. Charity was not nearly as familiar with Michael as she was with James. However, it was not as if Michael had anything that could speak against his person. He was fine, in all manner, as a gentleman. Michael was the older brother, not that it mattered since neither Poppy had much in the way of wealth or position, but she had never really given Michael a chance as a person. Charity doubted his stoic personality had endeared him to many women but he was a kind man, she realized.

  When she had risen to walk with James earlier, Michael had offered his arm. Had Michael been meaning to escort her instead? Charity began noting the number of times Michael had complemented her, or opened doors, or went to fetch her a drink. She realized he had been making overtures towards her, but she had not noticed. She had not given him a chance. Michael Poppy was actually quite thoughtful and she had been completely oblivious to him. She now realized the number of times she had been escorted by both James and Michael, often with Flora. Now that she knew that James wanted to offer for Flora their foursome made sense.

  The most notable plus point in Michael’s favor was that he was a Poppy. She told herself this was the best plan. She wanted a family, and the Poppys were well endowed in that quarter. She would have sisters and of course, James would be her brother.

  The Poppys knew her. There would be no need for subterfuge. She thought of all the others of the Ton and their polite masks. It was disheartening that there should seem to always be a bar to honest conversation. At least with Michael Poppy she could be herself. A lady should be able to be oneself before one’s husband.

  Although Charity did not look forward to convincing her mother of the equitableness of this plan, she had determined that she would choose her husband today. Yes Michael Poppy would be just the thing. The thought made her stomach clench with doubt.

  ~.~

  Chapter Fourteen

  The day after the Drummond Picnic, Charity took tea with Julia, the new Baroness Fawkland. No matter the trouble in Charity’s heart, Julia could see through it. The truth was, Julia was practical and could understand things with an uncanny ease. Julia would help her make a decision. Julia would know what to do. At least, Charity knew she would feel more settled when she was finished with tea with Julia.

  “Thank you Harrington.” Julia said as her butler admitted Charity to Lady Fawkland’s bath home.

  “Will there be anything else, Baroness?”

  “Have Mrs. Harper bring tea in the morning room,” Julia requested politely

  “The house looks wonderful,” Charity commented as she entered. “I cannot believe you just arrived at Bath and you already are all settled.”

  “Well, I do have the highest paid butler in Bath,” Julia said with a little smile. “He does earn his salary. All of the staff are eager to please since Lord Fawkland and I took up residence here for the summer. After all they were hired to care for a country miss, and here I am a lady. In truth, I think they are more proud to serve a baroness than I am to be one.”

  Charity laughed at Julia’s frankness. She knew her friend was still nervous that she would not live up to her new title. Charity assured Julia that there could be no finer baroness, nor a finer house.

  Charity paused at a new display. Last year the paintings that had graced the walls of Julia’s summer home depicted the sites and streets of Bath, many lovingly painted by Julia herself. Now, several key works had been replaced with new paintings, no less lovely, but they instead displayed a lush countryside.

  “These paintings. Are they yours?” Charity asked.

  Julia nodded p
roudly. “Lord Fawkland thought we might move some of the Bath scenes to the barony and some of my newer works here so I might always feel myself at home.”

  “They are beautiful,” Charity complimented her, pleased that her friend had found happiness in her new role.

  Julia fairly glowed when she spoke of her new husband. Charity only wished she might feel that same joy. The two women spoke of Bath and of paintings, and Charity simply enjoyed her friend’s company while tea was served. Julia always made her feel better and today was no exception, but eventually, the topic came to the subject of men, and Charity’s troubles.

  “At the opening ball, Lavinia said you were walking the gardens with James Poppy.” Julia raised an eyebrow. “And then again at the Drummond picnic. Are you considering him, Charity?”

  Charity lifted a shoulder and placed her cup carefully back in its saucer. She had not thought how it might look from the outside.

  “I did walk with James, but only to get a breath of fresh air.” Then Charity spilled the entirety of the story to Julia: the fight with Lord Wentwell at the ball and how miserable she had been since. While she spoke she fiddled with her napkin and gloves in her lap.

  “But is he not a rake?” Julia asked. A footman brought in biscuits fresh from the oven, and Julia thanked him. “That will be all,” she told him.

  Charity waited until the footman had left them before she answered. “I suppose he is a rake. He denies it, but what man wouldn’t in the face of a disaster like Miss Danbury.”