A small woman with wildly curling, blonde hair looked startled as he pulled open the door. Her dark, brown eyes widened slightly, and she lowered her fist from the vicinity of the door. “Sorry, Your Grace, to disturb you, but is Lady Elizabeth Grayson here? I am her maid, Pandora, and I must speak with her immediately."
"Come in, Pandora. As luck would have it, she is. We retreated from the storm on our way back to London. Have you come from there?"
"No, I have come from up the road.” Gravitating to the fire's warmth, she held out her hands and stared toward the bedroom door, suspicion bright in her eyes.
Being flagrantly caught in dishabille suited his purposes, but Christian felt guilty somehow. Elizabeth's embarrassment was not something he relished. “She will be here soon."
Pandora's inquisitive gaze tore down the front of his body where his physical condition gave him away. But instead of horror, Christian noted a pleased, almost naughty, expression bloom on her heart-shaped face.
Just then, Elizabeth peeked from behind the door, looking for the entire world like a guilty child. Though she was dressed, she'd pulled the quilt around her to cover the sight of her torn bodice. Her expression relaxed upon seeing the maid, and she rushed to Pandora's side.
"Pandora! Why on earth are you out on such a day?"
"Ooh, m'lady. I worried so when the storm broke out. I had to see if you were well,” she said, going to her mistress and hugging her with untoward familiarity. “I could only hope you would seek shelter here. And how glad I am that His Grace came upon you."
"Rest easy, Pandy.” Elizabeth stood back and regarded the maid with a frown. “What is it? Has something happened?"
"How was your dress torn?” Pandora asked with a worried look.
Elizabeth waved away the question. “Later. Tell me what has occurred."
Christian warily watched the exchange as tension drifted over him. There was a look of despair about the little maid that piqued his curiosity.
Without warning, Pandora covered her face with her hands and began to cry. “Oh, my lady! ‘Tis Mary! She is dead. You must come now."
A shudder passed through Elizabeth's body, but very little emotion crossed her face. Christian noted her struggle for composure as she stood there so still and silent.
Mary? Who was Mary? Elizabeth's friend? One of the women he'd seen through the windows?
Elizabeth turned and watched him quietly for a moment or two. Finally, she drew in a deep breath. Her eyes were troubled, but she seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Can I trust you, Your Grace? To keep a secret and not use it against me?"
Offended, he stiffened. “How can you ask such a thing?"
"I am sorry, but I must know. Your word is of the utmost importance."
Elizabeth's seriousness alarmed him. Despite the fact that he wasn't above compromising her to win her hand, it had never been his intent to be cruel. No, just the opposite was true. He would risk everything to make her happy. He cared for Elizabeth more than he'd ever imagined caring for a woman, deeply and with infinite emotion.
Ignoring Pandora's sly, knowing look, he went to Elizabeth and pulled her into the warmth of his arms. She remained stiff and apparently unmoved, but nevertheless, he buried his face in her fragrant hair. “You must believe me, love. You can trust me with your life."
She drew back. A faint whisper of a smile touched her lips while her eyes turned dark with sorrow. “Then, you must come with me, Christian. But know this ... If you should betray my trust, you shall suffer my wrath and my hatred until the day you cock up your toes. Understood?"
Christian only nodded, choosing not to challenge her remarks. “Go outside while we gather our things,” he told Pandora. “We shall be with you shortly."
Pandora left, and Christian turned to Elizabeth with one final word before departing. “I would give my life for you, darling, but never question my honor again."
Elizabeth nodded assent, then surprising him, she rose up on her toes to place a tender kiss on his lips. It was then that he caught his breath in true amazement and wonder. Cool, remote, unmovable Elizabeth stared up at him and at that moment forever changed his perceptions of her.
Pure emotion, raw and untamed, came alive in her eyes. Tears washed them with a remorse so great Christian forgot to breathe.
Stepping back, Elizabeth clutched her chest for a moment before clearing all emotion from her expression. Dragging the quilt across her face, dispensing with the tears, she looked at him again. “Sometimes I do not understand the people who inhabit this world."
Though he had no idea of what she spoke, her cryptic words touched him deeply.
"Neither do I, my love. Come, let us go."
Ten
As the three of them rode up the circle drive, Elizabeth saw Caroline directing servants in the hanging of black bunting over the door. The wide front windows already bore the proper sign of grief. She must have begun the task immediately upon Mary's death.
Of the occupants of Charlotte House, Caroline was the oldest and, no doubt, the wisest. Intelligent, possessed of a sharp wit, she was also practical to a fault. Dutifully she'd gone about the business of mourning by undertaking a project that must be done. Elizabeth found it impossible to believe that Caroline's husband had managed to convince authorities she was insane. A man of great wealth, he had probably bribed someone to carry out the nefarious deed.
"This is Charlotte House,” Elizabeth told Christian as Pandora dismounted with the help of a young groom.
Christian's brows drew together in question. “Charlotte House?"
"Yes. All shall become clear soon."
As he dismounted and turned to help Elizabeth, Caroline came toward them. She embraced Elizabeth. Caroline glanced his way, but her quick perusal dismissed him.
"We were worried when the storm broke out, Elizabeth.” Caroline looked her over and lifted a blonde brow. “Good heavens, dear! You look so damp and bedraggled. Do come inside."
Christian saw Elizabeth's blush. It was true. Her hair hung to her waist, thick and wavy, and over her torn dress she wore his coat. The sleeves trailed past her hands and, despite her tall stature, made her look small. He couldn't help but smile at the sight.
She was his. Now and forever.
Noting Elizabeth's sadness at the loss of her friend, he couldn't help the buoyant feeling of victory that coursed through him. She was his fiancée now and there was nothing she could do to change it. Mistress? To hell with that! Too many people knew they'd been alone in the little cottage. He'd touched her naked body intimately, and now there was no escape for her.
"Why, Elizabeth,” Caroline gasped. “Your dress is torn. What has happened?” She cast an accusatory glance Christian's way and her fists tightened.
"She was attacked by brigands, my lady,” Christian supplied. He gave Elizabeth a fond look. “Quite admirably, she fended them off."
"Christian came along just in time to help,” Elizabeth murmured. “Please allow me to present, His Grace, Christian Delaford. Christian, this is Lady Caroline. I would tell you her full name, but we do not use them here at Charlotte House. Anonymity is essential."
Confused, he took Caroline's hand and bowed smartly. Anonymity? What kind of place was this?
"Heartily pleased, my lady,” he said with a smile. There was something in Lady Caroline's eyes, wariness and hurt perhaps, that made him careful. “I am Elizabeth's fiancé."
"Fiancé?” Caroline gasped, then gaped at Elizabeth. “I had no idea. Why did you not tell us your news?"
Elizabeth stiffened and narrowed her eyes. She would not challenge him publicly, he knew.
"Our engagement is very new and not common knowledge,” she said.
"I see. Well, congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.” She took Elizabeth's hand and ushered her toward the front door where a bevy of tearful women began to cluster. Greetings and introductions were dispensed.
Hearing subdued murmurs, Christian followed the lot inside
the otherwise cheery home. Charlotte House. Charlotte House. Why did the name strike a chord of memory? He sensed something strange afoot and was determined to discover the truth.
"Where is Ann?” Elizabeth asked.
Harriet Bonnie, showing her pregnancy at an advanced stage, led Elizabeth to a small settee and spoke softly with a strong Irish accent. “Young Ann has done nothing but cry since the doctor announced the news."
"Poor child,” Elizabeth murmured.
Christian stood back, taking in the scene. A young girl of no more than sixteen or seventeen curled into the settee's corner, tears trailing over her pale cheeks. Pretty little thing, he thought. Her hair was dark and caught up in ringlets above each ear. Tiny curls ran the width of her forehead in the popular fashion of the day.
Elizabeth sat beside her and stroked the young girl's arm. “Here now, darling. Do not weep so, or you shall become ill."
Ann sniffled and stared at Elizabeth through tear-wet lashes. “Oh, my lady. How can someone be so utterly cruel? Even though my father was a tyrant, he was never that bad!"
Elizabeth gathered the sobbing girl into her arms. The breadth of gentleness she displayed showed Christian an entirely different side of her than he'd ever seen before.
She stayed with Ann for several moments, whispering and soothing, before she finally stood and excused herself.
Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she addressed the room at large. “I assume Mrs. Brown is upstairs?"
Members of the group nodded and the woman called Kathleen said, “We shall make the parlor ready, m'lady."
Several men in workmen's clothing came through the drawing room and began to move furniture aside for the wake.
Drawing herself up, Elizabeth turned to Christian, “Shall we?"
He nodded and followed her up the stairs. A plump older woman was just coming from one of the rooms, a basin of water in her hands. When she saw Elizabeth, she set the basin on a hall table and embraced her.
"How glad I am that Pandora found you before you reached London,” she said before stepping back to look at Christian. She bobbed a curtsy.
Elizabeth made quick introductions. “Mrs. Brown is the directress here at Charlotte House."
"I see.” Although confused, he fought to hide it.
"We had to seek shelter in your cottage, Imogen. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not.” In a hushed voice she said, “Mary's body is prepared. Harriet, bless her soul, donated one of her nicer gowns, as she can't wear it now anyway. Mary looks fine, all things considered."
"Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured.
As Mrs. Brown walked away, Christian and Elizabeth went inside where he saw the body of a woman lying on the white sheets. Dressed in a blue gown and with her hands folded across her heart, she looked almost delicate in death. He moved closer then stopped as if some unseen force had taken control of his limbs. Impossible! A silent, but heartfelt prayer swept through his mind.
Shock and rage began a slow ripple through his senses.
The woman, probably no older than he, had once been lovely. Her body slight, her hair a dark chestnut, she had pretty features, yet someone or something had burned her cruelly.
He cast a look at Elizabeth, whose head was bowed. She moved her lips as if speaking to the Almighty.
"What happened?” he asked, when at last she lifted her head.
She looked at him, her features carefully blank, and moved to the bedroom's open window. Leaning again the frame, she stared outside. “Mary was brought to us last night by a brave servant. She is the wife of Lord Findley. Do you know him?"
"No."
"We have been told the poor woman suffered many miscarriages over the years. Lord Findley, of course, was desperate for an heir. At last, it seemed possible, but yesterday she was delivered of a stillborn babe. In his rage and while Mary was still in childbed, he threw coal oil onto her face and set her afire."
"My God!"
"God was not there to help her, Christian. We were. A doctor was called immediately after she was brought here. He arrived soon after I did. Her fever was raging by then, but still, we had hoped she might pull through this tragedy."
As Elizabeth turned to face him, Christian saw untold agony on her face.
"I bought this house several months ago and named it Charlotte House, in memory of my twin, who was sorely abused in marriage."
Her voice wavered, and he could do nothing but gather her into his arms. Leading her to the fireplace, he sat in a plush upholstered chair and drew her onto his lap.
The fragrance of her hair teased his senses and a deep compassion consumed him. “Tell me, sweet."
"Caroline, whom you met outside, was the first to come. She is a countess, who had the respect of all who knew her. Her husband, however, fell in love with another and wanted Caroline out of the way. He placed her in an asylum."
"She seems inordinately sane to me."
"Quite so. Our laws simply do not protect women.” Elizabeth shifted and pressed her cheek to Christian's.
"Harriet, a maid, was raped by her employer and made pregnant. Kathleen is pregnant as well. She was a well-respected governess until her employer, an earl, attacked her. Both women were tossed out without reference and turned away by family. They had nowhere to go."
"Tell me of Ann. She is so young."
Elizabeth looked at him. “Ann's father is a wealthy merchant, who promised his only daughter in marriage to a man of seventy years. Horrified at the prospect, Ann tried to run away. Her father found her and, wanting to teach her a lesson, bound her in the stables and starved her. She was half dead when brought to us."
"And so you care for them here in Charlotte House.” Something warm unfurled within his chest. He wanted to pull her deep within him and never let her go. How hard she must have worked over the years to keep hidden her warm and generous heart.
"Yes. Many times we take care of each other. After Charlotte died, I had nowhere to put my grief and my rage. Her death could not be in vain. In tribute, I established this sanctuary. It is a sanctuary that my sister never had."
"She had you, did she not?"
"Not really. In the end, I was worthless to her."
"How can you possibly say that, sweetheart? You loved her."
Elizabeth's words turned scathing, her voice became bitter. “More than my life. That much is true. But I am at fault for realizing something was wrong and doing nothing about it. I asked, of course, but she continually assured me it was melancholy only.” She pounded her fist against her heart. “But I knew, Christian! I knew it was something more; I just never dreamed the bastard hurt her. Every day, every night, she suffered untold agonies."
Tears of impotent rage filled her eyes and her voice softened. “The night she died, I swear I felt her soul move through my body. It was late, and I was abed. As unbelievable as it may sound, it was almost as if a strong force entered my body, drifted through my soul, then drew slowly away. Somehow I knew my Lottie was gone."
"I am so sorry."
"You'll keep my secret?"
"Of course. My darling, noble girl, how proud I am of your compassion."
Elizabeth frowned. “I am not that good, Christian. Truly. Charlotte House feels more like a sop to my guilt for not helping my sister."
"Nonsense.” He stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. “Do your parents know?"
She shook her head. “No. Though they would, I am sure, approve and even help in this endeavor. Being around these ladies, however, would only serve to remind them of their own loss. There has been too much pain in my home already. No, this is something I have undertaken all on my own. What else could I do with all my wealth but help when there is such need?"
"You constantly surprise me."
She laughed lightly. “Sometimes I surprise myself. I was never kind as a child. Lottie was the soft-hearted one."
"You are more like her than you know."
"What a nice compliment. I wish you
could have known her."
Her voice, gentle and tender as she spoke of Lottie, moved him deeply. Tightening his arms slightly around her, he kissed her forehead and closed his eyes.
* * * *
Elizabeth came down the stairs wearing borrowed clothes and feeling a trifle better now that she was properly dressed and groomed. Word of her attack spread among the women of Charlotte house and, as a result, she'd been smothered over the past two hours.
Kathleen's brown serge with the thickly tatted, lace collar fit quit nicely but for being a bit short. After donning the garment and allowing Pandora to dress her hair, Elizabeth felt almost human despite the fact that she was sad, tired, and humiliated all at once.
Christian sat in the quiet parlor and read aloud from a book of Lord Byron's poems. His deep baritone drifted through the room and touched her mind with memory. Just today, he'd seduced her with that voice as he crooned erotic words, enslaving her. So self-satisfied he seemed now that he believed them engaged.
Poor dear.
Elizabeth moved further into the room and leaned against the settee. Resting her fingers there, she watched as, like a magician, he mesmerized the cluster of women.
She was not so easily mesmerized!
Marriage was not to be for the two of them. Yet why completely ruin his day? Let him imagine for a while that he'd won this battle. Eventually, she would tell him the truth of it. Christian would be angry, of course, until he finally realized that making her his mistress was best for all concerned.
"Oh, please, Your Grace, read another,” Ann said from her position at his feet. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile. The child was smitten and who could blame her. Christian reached down to tease a curl.
Elizabeth stepped forward. “I am sorry, dear, but we really must go. I am certain my parents are frantic now as it is quite late."
Christian closed the book and set it down. Standing, he smiled at Elizabeth. “Do not fret. I sent someone ahead to let your parents know that you are safe with me and properly chaperoned."
The scoundrel winked at Pandora, who blushed a vivid red. Elizabeth relented and, with a grin, seated herself. “Well then, Your Grace, perhaps another reading would not be amiss.” Ann gasped with joy until Elizabeth laughed and pointed her finger. “Just one more, young miss."
Tempted Page 14
