Charlotte

by Virginia Taylor

  He had undervalued her. From the moment he had met her, she’d handled every difficult situation with a delicate touch, from her original ripped bodice, to his accusations about Tony, and now his jealousy of Luke. If he’d had half her grace, he wouldn’t be in this predicament now, in love with a woman he had driven into the arms of another. He laughed bitterly.

  He loved her. How could he not?

  Her humorous observations entertained him, her steadiness calmed him, and she hadn’t once judged him. He could only admit his love for her now that his chance of fathering a malformed child was the same as the average man.

  Given her excuse for refusing his advances, he had time to change his ways, convince her that his love was true, and not simply expedient. He didn’t deserve, after the way he had behaved throughout his marriage, to have the love of his life fall into his arms the moment he held them out.

  He finally hauled back his bed cover and slid into his bed, determined to proceed with patience.

  * * * *

  Charlotte wallowed all the next day in the success of her whist party. Nick hadn’t shamed her, nor had he alluded to her birth. He had clearly enjoyed the company and had behaved like a proud new husband. Of course, not a single of his flirts had been present, though even the most elderly lady in the room had managed to hold his rapt attention for some time.

  Charlotte had to face the fact that women of any age would fall for his casual, cynical flattery because the female gender enjoyed being so deliciously uncertain. And he had served his purpose expertly by fostering interest in the presentation of his wife’s cousin. She couldn’t ask for more.

  Now almost certain of Sarah’s success, she sealed her hundred invitations and bundled them for posting before ordering the carriage to take her to Stepney, where she inspected the newly refurbished premises she had hired for the next year. The flooring had been polished and the walls whitened, and when she had found twenty beds at a reasonable price, she would be ready to interview her prospective tenants.

  Harvey drove her home without making a single comment, and she enjoyed having her thoughts to herself throughout the journey. She arrived at the gates of Alden House just as a smart gig pulled out of the driveway, bearing James and Chrysanthe. Each waved, but James didn’t stop because he appeared to be arguing with the very much younger Zanthe, an occurrence only unusual in that James found baiting the seventeen-year-old amusing. Pondering an odd comment she’d heard from Alfred, she opened the front door and saw Sarah’s bags in the hall.

  Sarah stood, watching her approach. “Ah, from the life of the idle rich, back to the life of the idle rich.” She planted a kiss on Charlotte’s cheek. “The only life I want. Come with me while I unpack. I want to catch you up on all the news. James offered to drive me back to Adelaide,” she said as she took the stairs, “but Lady Grace thought I needed a chaperone and so I was landed with Zanthe. Unmerciful child. She regaled me with stories of James’s every foolish escapade from the moment she was born.”

  “They’ve known each other all their lives.” Charlotte followed Sarah up the stairs. “They’re almost brother and sister.”

  “Don’t let Daphne hear you say that.” Sarah entered her room, removing her hat and gloves. “She’s absolutely positive she will be marrying James, and she says she doesn’t mind if he sews his oats first. I’m not sure if she was warning me off or simply being boring.”

  “She does have a tendency toward the everyday.” Charlotte shut her mouth guiltily. After living with Nick, she had learned to prefer the subtleties of conversation. “But the well off tend to marry among themselves. It’s hard these days to force one’s way into society without a rending of a gown.”

  “A subject I have given a small amount of thought to lately.”

  “Don’t. If it becomes too fashionable to be compromised, everyone will want to try, and then we will be thought impossibly dull. For you, we’ll simply do the right thing. I held a whist party last night and invited the doyens. I wanted to be approved as a hostess, and I think I was. Just today I sent off the invitations for your supper dance.”

  “You decided on the date? When?”

  “Two weeks from today.”

  Sarah clapped her hands to her cheeks. “That doesn’t give me much time.”

  “I’ve redone all your hats and chosen fabric for your gown.”

  “You might have asked me what I want.”

  Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “Nick said you have to have white, which is a problem I think I might have solved. I chose a very creamy white. If you don’t like it, then it’s just another gown and you can choose whatever you want, as long as it’s white.”

  “I’m fussing needlessly. White is white and you would have chosen the right one. You always do. Do I look any different?” Sarah stood, hands by her sides waiting for an answer.

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes and walked around Sarah. “Indefinably, yes. You’re somehow…glossier. Perhaps it’s the clean country air?”

  “Hm.” Sarah laughed. “I have an admirer.”

  “Who?”

  “A gentleman well known in society. The only problem is that his intentions don’t appear to be honorable.”

  “Are you interested in him?”

  “Desperately. I have been from the moment I met him.”

  “But you won’t tell me who he is?”

  “Not by name, but I’m sure you can guess.”

  “James? He’s not for you, Sarah. He’s too rich, and he has been too accustomed to having his wicked way. I’ve heard some of Zanthe’s stories, too, and although she makes them funny, I don’t doubt they are true.”

  “Like the one when she caught him lying on top of an unnamed female in his garden? He tripped, he says, being an ungainly sixteen-year-old, and the girl cushioned his fall.” Sarah laughed. “You’re right, though. Her outrageous criticism of him is very much brother and sister, and speaking of which…” She glanced sideways at Charlotte. “Sometimes, I rather think you resemble him—though mainly in your coloring.”

  “Is dark hair and light eyes so unusual? Though, I wouldn’t mind being his sister. I’m very fond of his family, but you can’t sidetrack me so easily when I’m worrying about you.”

  “Don’t. I know what I’m doing, and I won’t be having my gown ripped at the supper dance. If I don’t hear a proposal before then, I’ll be most surprised.” Sarah looked half malicious, half satisfied.

  “Just don’t do anything rash.” Charlotte placed Sarah’s hat carefully with the others. “Has he said he loves you?”

  “He says he wants me,” Sarah said defiantly. “But he’s going to have to marry me first.”

  Charlotte threaded her fingers, trying not to worry. “If he doesn’t propose, you will have plenty of other prospects. Your birth is perfectly respectable and with a great social success behind you, you will have your pick of the best.”

  She left for the drawing room where Mrs. Wishart planned to introduce her to a new housemaid. Sarah wouldn’t needlessly ruin her reputation. Perhaps she was obstinate at times, but she had always worked with Charlotte for their respective futures. However, she mulled this thought until dinner that evening.

  After dressing in her blue green-trimmed gown, she placed fresh flowers on the dining table.

  Nick joined her downstairs, scrupulously dressed and so vitally attractive that her heart skipped a beat. She tried to look no more than coolly welcoming but out of all the feelings she had for him, welcoming featured low on her list.

  “I presume Sarah is back. I saw Luke in town today, and he says everyone is.”

  “You spoke to him?” Charlotte pressed her hands together. “I hope you didn’t accuse him of anything he didn’t do.”

  “I told him you wouldn’t need his escort any longer because I planned to be his stand-in. He nodded politely and said he would be glad to see me with my wife. From there, it was fairly hard to accuse him of anything but teach
ing me my place.”

  “Do you think James plans to marry Daphne?”

  “Interesting change of subject. I’ve never given a thought to anything James might do. Why not ask him?”

  She gave a reproving smile. “We don’t exactly have the sort of relationship that would allow me to ask his intentions.”

  “I’d say any intentions he had toward a woman would involve either a bed or the removal of clothes. But if you wanted, you could have a relationship with him.”

  “Another prospective father for our children?” She clamped her lips, her veins flooding with ice.

  He didn’t attempt to veil his expression of horror. “Good Lord, no. I meant something else entirely.”

  “I don’t want to know,” she said, breathing unevenly.

  He gazed into her eyes. Her skin prickled and she longed to glance away. She didn’t want to fool herself into thinking he was about to give her a fond smile, or even a hug, bearing in mind the subject of the conversation.

  “I’m not late I hope.” Sarah stood in the doorway.

  “Not at all,” Charlotte said, relieved by the interruption.

  Nick turned. “Welcome back,” he said to Sarah. He leaned over and whispered in Charlotte’s ear, “I don’t want you bearing any child but mine.”

  Outraged, she gasped. The man would say anything at all to keep her off balance.

  That night, she lay in bed with her fists pressed over her mouth. Having Sarah back in the house gave her convenient excuses to avoid Nick, who had spent the evening in his father’s study catching up on business matters, while leaving the ladies the chance to gossip.

  Apparently, he now objected to the thought of someone else playing with his very own toy, but despite his egregious statement, he wouldn’t let her bear his child. If he thought his new stance would get him into her bed, he would be sadly disappointed. At this stage, only an avowal of love would achieve his aim, but she doubted he would be able to force such a word through his throat.

  That night, she closed and locked her bedroom door.

  Chapter 20

  The full moon lit the night outside the window, and leaves quietly rustled in the dark. Sitting at his father’s desk, Nick finished the accounts and leaned back, pleased. While for years he’d contributed nothing but disinterest, his father had kept him. Now Nick found great satisfaction in managing his inheritance. The improvements to the Stirling cottages, despite the expense, would not only add to the Alden workforce but also the wellbeing of many local hills’ families.

  Although his presence had not been requested by Charlotte, he rose, buttoned his jacket, and strolled into the drawing room where she and Sarah sat plotting the most expensive way to choose a husband for Sarah, interesting, but needless in his opinion. Other than the fact he would like to be alone in his house with his recalcitrant wife, he saw no reason to marry Sarah off.

  Fortunately, biding his time with Charlotte had made her more tolerant of his presence, either that or Sarah’s current snappishness was wearing her down.

  “…but we’ll want the rooms to look a little different,” Charlotte was saying. She glanced up at him. On the side-table, which had been shifted in front of the long couch where she sat, lay color swatches, lists, pencils, paper, scissors, ribbons, and a plate of cheese and fruit.

  Sarah sat on the window seat, swishing the lace window covering. “You’re more interested in colors than I am. Why don’t you choose?”

  “Because yesterday you accused me of taking over.”

  “It’s your money. Why shouldn’t you?”

  Charlotte glanced at Nick again, as if in appeal.

  He settled beside her, peering from under his brows at Sarah. “She should. She has a talent for organization she shouldn’t waste, but possibly she’s expecting you to take a little responsibility, too.”

  “And I will,” Sarah said, her face set. She dropped the curtain. “But I can’t think of any way to decorate the rooms other than with flowers.” She stood, rustled past him, and headed for the hall.

  “Not exactly the outcome I wanted,” Charlotte said wryly, staring at the empty doorway. “I was hoping she would offer to help with more of the practicalities.”

  “If it’s too much for you, we could get Mrs. Wishart on board.” He toyed idly with the ribbon tie on the shoulder of her gown.

  “It’s not too much for me.” She lifted his hand away. “It’s the sort of thing I love to do, but I want to take her mind off expectations of James getting down on one knee to her. If she wants to make herself into a desirable wife for a rich and spoiled young man, who apparently doesn’t mind leading on the gullible in the hopes of leading one astray, she needs a few more skills than gallivanting around all day with other young ladies with the same silly ideas.”

  He laughed, pleased to hear her patience could be stretched. “I will happily shake her for you.”

  “You did. She’s used to you taking her side.”

  “How positively stupid of me. So, James is a rich and spoiled young man, is he?”

  “He’s certainly not treating her with respect.”

  Nick leaned back. “I can’t see him trying to lead anyone astray who wouldn’t have a propensity to be led astray. I wouldn’t have applied that description to Sarah who appears to have a very keen sense of self preservation.”

  “We’re all fools for love.”

  He smiled, enjoying her new asperity. To prove his faith, he refrained from questioning her mysterious daily excursions and, his actions carefully casual, he cut himself a slice of cheese. “Do you do this plotting and planning all day as well as all evening?”

  “Only when Sarah and I spend time together, which isn’t during the day,” she said, cleverly avoiding a subject that was, after all, none of his business. She began to pack up her lists and her samples.

  He ate his cheese and broke off a stem of grapes. “During the day, I spend most of my time experimenting with new ideas for expanding my father’s various businesses. The house in Stirling is fully furnished, but like here, sadly old-fashioned. Many of the furnishings would be thirty years old and some due for renewal, curtain fabrics, for instance. It seems to me that this is your province rather than mine.”

  Her gaze caught his. “I would enjoy advising where you want advice, but currently I have my hands full with Sarah’s presentation and another project.”

  He popped two of his grapes into her mouth. “What other project?” He held his breath.

  “A charity commitment,” she said, between chewing and swallowing. “I’m going up to bed. I’ll see you at breakfast.” She stood.

  He stood. “That sounds rather final. I’ll come up to bed, too.”

  She inclined her head and led the way up the stairs. He followed, apprehensive. Although he could accept another rebuff, he didn’t want one. He opened the suite door for her, and she headed toward her bedroom.

  He followed. “Will you want help with your buttons and hooks?” he asked casually, stopping in her doorway.

  She faced him, examining his expression, which he kept entirely impartial, and she turned, presenting her back.

  He sauntered over to her, knowing he couldn’t invade her bed after behaving like a jealous fool and expect to be received with open arms. Focusing entirely on the delicacy of her white nape, he stirred the soft curls with a deliberate breath while he dealt with her fastenings.

  She shivered and he closed his eyes, loving her and wanting her.

  “Are you sure you need to continue punishing me?” Almost afraid of taking the wrong step, he ran his palm from her shoulder to her neck. He felt rather than heard her intake of breath.

  “I have never intended to punish you. I just don’t like being judged by your standards.”

  “My standards are higher for others than myself.”

  She gave a tiny, reluctant laugh. “You’re impossible. I know you want to bed me, but I know you are not exclusive.�
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  “I am exclusive. I want only you.”

  She rested her cheek on his hand for a heartbeat. “And eventually your precautions against having a baby will fail and then what?”

  “We will have a baby.”

  She turned swiftly and faced him. “And what if the baby is not perfect?”

  He cleared his throat, as awkward as a sixteen-year-old. “I have no reason to believe that my children will not be as perfect as those of any other man. It seems I didn’t father Clara’s child at all.” The confession hurt, and all the anguish of all the years ached through each of his bones. The truth, so new to him, had not been said aloud before and hovered between them.

  Her brows drew together. “And this was a recent discovery?” she asked in a voice of suspicion.

  He tried to hold her steady gaze but pity for his foolishness would be too hard to bear. “Mrs. Grayson led me to believe Clara’s baby was fathered by her husband.”

  “So now you expect to leap into my bed.” And with that she crossed her arms. “After all your accusations and mistrust?”

  “I was wrong to accuse you of infidelity, and I’m deeply sorry for my ill considered words. And I am, of course, hoping for forgiveness sooner rather than later.”

  Her hand went to her face, and with a finger, she prodded the dent in her chin as Tony did during thoughtful moments. This tiny familial gesture hit him in the belly and made him smile despite himself.

  “If that’s all you have to say, later then.”

  “Perhaps we could shorten the process.” He pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “We’ll play cards. If I win, you’ll accept my atonement of the past few days and we’ll start anew.”

  She inclined her head to the side, as if considering. “You never beat me. Do me up again, and I’ll give you a chance.”

  Unfortunately, she didn’t. A former gambler, and his gambling was as former as his drinking, he was good, as Mrs. Grayson had noted. However, he didn’t lose because his game had deteriorated. He lost because she cheated. With every card she dealt from the bottom of the pack, he knew she planned him to lose. She had no intention of being won with an apology. He realized a self-contained woman like her would naturally be more attracted to a man who had the same attributes, and he hoped she hadn’t lost interest in him because of any lingering feelings for Luke.