“To deal with the realities.” Charlotte moved her horse to a clipping walk. “Mama spent her whole life preparing me to marry well, and she died. I’ve achieved her dream, but I have my own dreams. Life doesn’t end with marriage.” Not wanting Sarah to see how hard Luke’s knowledge of Nick had hit her, she took Red Robin into a controlled canter and, with Sarah following, she left the riding track.
A very long time ago, she’d expected to have her own children. After marriage, she’d thought she might dote on Sarah’s, but now both were pointless objectives. Although she could run a house invisibly and plan a menu for a month without wasting an item of food, her management skills were as yet untapped.
Yes, she would deal with the realities. Despite how she acted, she was no fool. She was perfectly competent and more than willing to work hard, and yet she’d left her renovation project to others. The time had come to take an active part. The sooner she completed outfitting her building, the sooner her unmarried mothers would be secure.
She had more to think about than a hopeless, loveless marriage.
* * * *
Nick followed Tony into his study. “Good of you to spare the time to see me. This shouldn’t take long.”
Nick had been in this room last on the night of the ball. That night, he’d been the one interviewed, which in his drunken state he’d found hilarious. This time, he kept his face serious and glanced around the cedar-paneled room, wondering if he would enjoy having a space like this to call his own. His father had one.
“A friend who made sure my wife survived childbirth may be sure of my attention.” Tony took a seat behind a desk large enough to sleep two.
“I was in your debt in the first place. That business with Clara—but for you and Luke helping me through the burials, I would have topped myself.”
“I doubt it, and since the drink hasn’t killed you since, you are certainly a survivor. Now, how can I help you?”
Nick settled himself into a comfortable chair and crossed his legs. “I want to know what you haven’t told me about Charlotte.”
“Why would you assume I know more than you?”
“Because you investigated her and because the last time we had a conversation about this, you hedged your words. You didn’t need to do that if you didn’t know a fact or two you thought you should hold back.”
Tony shifted his gaze. “I’m not sure if I should tell you or her or neither. It’s a damned awkward situation.”
“Which will be resolved by telling me what you know.”
“Do you have feelings for Charlotte?” Tony stared directly at Nick.
Nick hesitated. “I have a great regard for her. She is everything a man could want in a wife.”
Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want her hurt, and amazingly enough I believe you don’t either. And so I’ll begin by telling you that almost a year ago my solicitor told me that a woman to whom my father had granted a life pension had died.” He meshed his fingers, leaning forward. “Naturally, I stopped our payments, and naturally I looked up the recipient, a woman named Mrs. Adelina Davies.”
Nick frowned.
“Yes, Charlotte’s mother. I discovered that twenty years previously, my father had signed over a house in Kensington to her.”
“Very generous of him,” Nick said slowly.
“Bear in mind that Charlotte owned a house in Kensington. Also bear in mind that the first time I saw Charlotte she was with James, and they both turned to me at the same time with the same querying expression on each of their faces. I swear I took a step back. Their likeness is astounding.”
Nick paused, examining the backs of his hands. “Are you implying what I think?”
“When I asked about her parents, she told me both had died. Further pressed, she said her father was a naval captain who died before she was born. If I’d pushed harder, she’d have avoided me, I thought. So I told Nell of my suspicions and together we tried to ease her into friendship.”
“The income and the house don’t prove she’s a…related to you. Or the fact that she has a resemblance to James.”
“I don’t have proof, no. I found her father’s death certificate. He did, indeed, manage to die before Charlotte was born, in fact only three weeks after his marriage and four weeks before the birth of his only child. The British navy’s records show him to be a fine, upstanding officer who exceeded his orders at the battle of Waterloo.”
“Making him a little older than the normal newlywed.”
“He was seventy-six at the time.”
“Ah, a deathbed romance.”
Tony rose and turned his back to gaze out the window at the garden below. “Miss Page said their grandfather was a man of the cloth. I have distant memories of my father and a rector having some sort of ruckus in our hall. This was during my first years at school. I couldn’t say exactly when.” He turned back and faced Nick. “I surmise the man was insisting my father oblige him by finding a husband for his daughter. I really have nothing with which to confront Charlotte, and I hate to destroy any illusions she might have about her mother.”
“Does her paternity matter?” Nick used the tips of his fingers to knead his forehead.
“Perhaps not to you, but naturally, when Mrs. Davies died, I stopped her income. Had I reinstated the money when I found out about Charlotte, she would have been in just as much of a pickle. She would have known my father was keeping her mother. If she didn’t know, and since she has never confronted me, I have to assume she didn’t, she would surely wonder why. Since I can only surmise why, I decided with Nell’s cooperation to keep quiet and bring her out, so to speak.”
“You stopped her income?” Nick asked, beginning to see, perhaps, why Charlotte had told him she had to marry and soon. “And since she had no other means of support, she wanted a husband, any husband, instantly.”
“Apparently, she wanted you.” Tony shrugged. “And why not if you had previously, ah, dallied with her?”
Ignoring Tony’s reasonable logic, Nick shook his head, almost in admiration. “I can’t imagine how she managed to get noticed without any connections in society.”
“Of course you can.”
Nick nodded slowly. Of course he could. He knew very well that people were judged by their looks. Even he, despite his drinking and his past, was happily accepted into society, though his father’s money helped. “Why didn’t you tell me of your suspicions on the night of the ball?”
“Had I, you would have left her to me. Then what chance would she have had of a respectable marriage, acknowledged as my father’s by-blow and compromised by you? Do you think Luke would have snapped her up?”
“Oh, he assumed I had compromised her.”
“You were drunk.”
“He was mighty easy to put off.” Nick smiled sourly.
Tony gazed across the desk. “Now you are married and the gossip has no teeth.”
“And if you find she is your sister?”
“James and I had every advantage. If a sister of mine had to live without knowing who her father was, or in low circumstances, I would like to even the score, somewhat.”
Nick rose to his feet. “Do you plan to tell her?”
“Wouldn’t you want to know who your father was?”
Nick let his face express his cynicism. “This takes us into a discussion about whether he’s the man who plants the seed or the one who wants the child. I think Charlotte would like more family, but I know she has social aspirations. I see no reason to dash them. Let’s not make a decision yet.”
He left, not certain how he should have reacted or if he should care that Charlotte’s mother had been Tony’s father’s mistress. In all, he didn’t, but he was quite sure she would.
After an afternoon with a surveyor and a bout at the gymnasium, he arrived home, changed for dinner, and presented himself downstairs.
“Apparently, Charlotte has a previous engagement,” Alfred said
, querying Nick with his eyes.
Nick shrugged.
“She said she could be a little late,” Sarah said, helping herself to asparagus.
Nick suspected his wife might be giving him a lesson in punctuality. By the time the fruit and cheese had been removed from the dinner table, he began to fidget. Sarah maintained an animated conversation with Alfred and neither looked the least worried about Charlotte’s tardiness.
Interrupting Sarah’s lofty assessment of Luke, Nick said with a frown, “Does anyone know where Charlotte went?”
“She didn’t say, but stop worrying. I see you’ve scarcely eaten a bite.” Sarah gave a significant nod, emphasizing, no doubt, the times her intake caused comment.
“We had a slight disagreement last night, and I thought she might be in a mood.”
Sarah stared at him. “Charlotte doesn’t have moods.”
Nick put his napkin onto the table. “I’ll stroll over to the stables and see if her plans were known.” With burgeoning apprehension, he left the room.
After noting Red Robin in her stall, he called to Rob. “What time did Mrs. Alden leave?”
“Mr. Harvey took her out in the afternoon, but she sent him home a small time later, Mr. Nick.”
“And she didn’t ask to be collected?” Nick tightened his jaw. “Does anyone here have a thought for her safety?”
“Mr. Harvey said maybe he needed orders afore he went ferretin’ around in her business,” said Rob in a hurt voice.
Nick planted two loose fists on his hips. “So, he’s learned his lesson.” He confined himself to forcibly shutting the yard gate before returning to the dining room. “As I thought. She’s playing a childish game.”
Frowning, Sarah said, “I’m sure she wouldn’t be putting herself in danger. More likely she’s with friends.”
He gave a casual nod and left the room, certain if he went chasing around after his wife she would use the same childish tactics each time she wanted to teach him a lesson. How him being a couple of hours late for a boring soiree could have so annoyed her was beyond his comprehension. Upstairs, pacing the floor, he decided to wring her neck if she’d not been involved in a fatal accident.
A little before ten he heard a carriage in the driveway. A few minutes later, the sitting room door opened.
“Where have you been?” he asked, his face iced, looking pointedly at the clock on the mantle.
“Do I ask where you’ve been when you come home late?” She removed her cherry-colored hat and stripped off her gloves.
He folded his arms. “A man doesn’t marry to wait up for his wife.”
“Oh. I assumed you had other options,” she said, heading for her bedroom.
He scowled, staring at her closed door. Roiling with irrational anger, he went to his room and undressed, then lay in bed with his hands behind his head, breathing flames. If she’d had a reason to be jealous, he would understand, but she didn’t.
By breakfast the next morning, he’d decided to forgive her—if she apologized, if she told him where she’d been, but she didn’t appear for breakfast.
“I heard Charlotte come in last night,” Alfred said gruffly after Sarah left. “You must tell her she should take the carriage for her visiting. It’s not right for her to be hiring hackneys.”
Nick heaved a breath. “Perhaps I should have told her that instead of being justifiably righteous.”
“She had you worried.”
“At least I didn’t threaten to withhold her allowance.”
“Waste of time, my boy. I gave her an allowance when she married you, and she has already spent this quarter’s.”
Nick frowned. “You gave her an allowance?”
His father lifted his chin. “I wasn’t sure you could afford her.”
“Let me get this straight. You gave Charlotte an allowance, but when I couldn’t support Clara you withheld mine.” Nick leaned back in his chair, his voice tight.
His father remained silent.
“Charlotte married me for security. Clara lost hers, and her life, because she couldn’t marry me.”
Alfred cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to repeat my mistake.”
Nick dropped his gaze and momentarily concentrated on the rose pattern adorning his teacup. Teacup! When did he stop drinking ale? And why? He closed his eyes briefly. “It was my mistake, not yours,” he said in a low voice. After a short silence, he faced his father and leaned back in his chair. “The worst being that I didn’t love Clara. Oh, I know I’ve let you think she was the love of my life, but that’s not so. My interest in her lasted no longer than the act that tied us together. I wouldn’t have seen her again but…” He shook his head, reliving his helplessness. “What choice did I have? She was bearing my child. Her husband had thrown her out, and she had nowhere else to turn.” His fingers cramped in his tight hold, and he rubbed them, watching the color return.
“Nick, my boy, I’m not about to pass judgment.”
“My baby killed her, and I’ve made enough mistakes I’m not intending to repeat.” He squared his shoulders, pushed out his chair, and left for a meeting with his father’s business manager, well aware that one of those mistakes was blaming his father for an event that was none of his responsibility. For too long Nick had indulged himself over the episode that had changed the course of his life.
Now, because of his marriage to Charlotte, he seemed to be on the path to redemption. He drank tea instead of ale, he kept reasonable hours, and he preferred his wife to his mistress. However, he needed to take control of his tongue.
His wife was currently displeased with him, and she had mentioned some man or other as a flirt.
At this stage, he certainly didn’t intend to share her.
* * * *
Charlotte had mulled over her mother’s predicament too many times to count. A discussion a month ago with Lady Grace had led to an agent who found her a dwelling large enough to house up to ten needy women. Half her quarterly allowance had been spent on renting the building for a year. Another fifty pounds was currently being spent on renovations.
Determined not to care that Nick was only amusing himself with her, she’d pushed her plans forward, despite lacking the funds to progress until next quarter. Therefore, her next task would be to speak to Alfred about an advance. She plotted all his favorite meals as she opened her invitations.
Nick entered the sitting room after breakfast and settled into his favorite chair. “Do you have plans for today?” He meshed his fingers across his lean belly, offering her a somewhat winsome smile.
“Yes.” She skimmed an envelope and opened the flap after noting the return address.
“Not to be shared with me?”
“You would be welcome to join us if you can knit. With others, Sarah and I will be at Nell’s house most of the day sewing squares for blankets.” She put the invitation in the pile to be answered later. After taking up the next, she read the return address and placed the envelope on Nick’s tray.
“What was that you placed with my mail?”
“I don’t know. It was addressed to you.”
“Why wasn’t it on my tray?”
“For any number of reasons, including a simple mistake. Mrs. N. Alden is easily enough confused with Mr. N. Alden. I’m careful, these days.” Her cheeks warmed and she glanced at him, a mistake because she could read his expression, one of dawning awareness.
“So, that’s what happened.” A frown line formed between his brows. “You read the letter from Beth?”
“It wasn’t addressed,” she said, her cheeks warm. “I discovered she gave her correspondence to Harvey, who apparently assumed it would be delivered to your room. However, I found it with the other letters.”
“And I failed your resulting test when I read her letter. Rather harsh I’d say, when you must have read she was short of money,” he said, keeping his tone deliberately casual. “I had a responsibility to her. Had. I’
ve seen her for the last time.”
“You let me believe you saw her for the last time before we married.”
He rose to his feet. “I used her so that I wouldn’t want you. And it didn’t work. I wanted you.”
She nodded, her cheeks cold. “I’m more convenient.” Pretty words and false embraces would no longer influence her.
“Can I redeem myself?” Holding her gaze, he stepped closer to her.
She stepped back. “Not with empty promises.”
Despite a chest full of loneliness, and an urge to take comfort in her husband’s treacherous embrace, for the first time in her life she walked out on a conversation.
Chapter 16
Charlotte settled a bowl of large pink roses onto a side table in the drawing room. The social season, which started in late spring, petered out during the summer heat at which time many families retired for a few weeks to the cooler weather in the hills or along the coast. And so, while she was free of social engagements, she could now prepare for Sarah’s supper dance, which she planned to hold soon after the hordes returned, bored, and therefore more likely to accept an invitation from an obscure newlywed.
Before they left, Daphne and Emily and their mamas had been invited to call on Charlotte, who wanted to practice her skill as a hostess. Cook had made a pink-iced sponge cake and a plate of tiny sandwiches for the ladies.
“Are you and Nick fighting?” Sarah settled her full skirts artfully around her chair.
Charlotte heard the note of annoyance in her cousin’s voice and she balked, perhaps for the first time. “I don’t care if I never speak to him again.”
“I care,” said Sarah, grimly. “I live in this house, too. I don’t have a place anywhere, and I will have even less a place here if you estrange yourself from your husband.”
“So, am I supposed to abase myself so that you can feel comfortable in the home Nick so generously provided for us?” Charlotte prinked at the lace edging of her sleeve.
“For us?”
“He agreed to that from the start. I don’t doubt he cares for you as much as he cares for me, so don’t worry about your place here. And don’t expect me to fix something I didn’t break. I am an obedient wife, and that’s all my husband wants of me.”
Charlotte Page 17
