Charlotte

by Virginia Taylor

Nick pressed a gold coin into the lad’s hand, swung onto his horse, and maneuvered past various carts, carriages, and street vendors, making his way home as quickly as possible. Charlotte had long curling feathers exactly the same color on her riding hat which was, incidentally, heavily veiled in black and her idea of making invisible the most visible woman in Adelaide.

  * * * *

  Charlotte removed her hat and jacket in her bedroom.

  Vera bustled in. “Miss Sarah is home. The dress fits perfect, and so we won’t have any alterations to do.” She took the coat and hat into Charlotte’s dressing room.

  Charlotte tidied her hair and went to see Sarah, who sat hunched in her bedroom chair, her lower face covered by her two palms. She barely lifted her head when Charlotte entered.

  “I expected you to be at home for your fitting today. Vera says the gown is perfect.”

  “It’s lovely.”

  “And yet you don’t seem happy.”

  Sarah showed a pale face with red-rimmed eyes.

  Assuming from her cousin’s expression that James’s proposal had not been forthcoming, Charlotte reached out to squeeze Sarah’s shoulder while seating herself on the bed. “All is not lost,” she said, sympathetically. “We have the supper dance tomorrow, and the house will be full of eligible bachelors, as you said.”

  Sarah lifted a wan face. “I did, didn’t I? How pointless when there’s only one eligible bachelor I’m interested in.”

  “But you can’t have him. It’s my fault and I’m sorry, but I can’t change the situation.”

  “Nor can I.” Sarah’s mouth lifted on one side. “I tried, but he won’t have me.” Her eyes glossed and filled. Tears spilled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. “I’ve made such a fool of myself. I don’t know what I can do now.”

  Charlotte rubbed Sarah’s arms. “James can’t marry you, but not because of anything you did. It’s because of something his father did.”

  “James? I don’t care who James marries, and I don’t care what his father did. I want Luke. I wanted him from the moment I met him…. The day Lady Grace sent him to escort you to her picnic.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Luke? I thought you wanted James.”

  Sarah swiped a palm over her tears. “I let you believe that because I knew Luke was in love with you.”

  “Sarah, this is crazy. Luke and I have never been more than friends.”

  “You might think that, but he doesn’t. He loves you and he always has. Anyone can see the way he looks at you. I didn’t know how I would get him, but I was thrilled when you accepted Nick. I thought that with you out of the picture, I might have a chance with Luke.” Sarah laughed bitterly. “But although I got him to the point of saying he wanted me, he refuses to marry me.”

  “Let him go, Sarah.”

  “You were caught with Nick in a compromising situation. So, I tried compromising Luke this afternoon. Not too long ago, Nick said you can lead a horse to water without letting him drink only so often before he slakes his thirst elsewhere. I went to Luke’s rooms and told him he could make love to me.”

  Charlotte gasped.

  “Oh, don’t worry. He very kindly re-dressed me and told me to go away.”

  “But you wouldn’t have been compromising him. You would have been compromising yourself.”

  Sarah gave a half-hearted shrug. “I left a note for Nick asking him to call on Luke. He was supposed to catch us in bed together. But Luke had me out of the house before any of my plan could be put into motion.”

  “Nick’s not home yet. I can get the note back.”

  “I’ve already done that. I put your hat back, too. I needed a black veil so that I wouldn’t be recognized, about the only smart thing I did today.”

  Lost in thought, and still clasping Sarah’s hands, Charlotte said, “What should we do? Luke will be at the supper dance tomorrow night.”

  Sarah rose to her feet, as if concluding an interview. “I certainly hope he doesn’t show his face.”

  Charlotte looked up, her brows drawn together. “One thing. You walked into his house to offer yourself and… Where did you undress?”

  “In his bedroom.”

  “How did you manage to undo the fastenings by yourself?”

  “He managed them.”

  “And so he helped you off with your clothes and put them back on again?”

  Sarah hung her head.

  Charlotte’s mouth tilted. “That was extremely noble of him.”

  Sarah glanced at Charlotte’s expression. “Very,” she said slowly, “for a man who refuses to marry a woman who let him take off her clothes.”

  Charlotte laughed and covered her mouth apologetically. “If he wants you but won’t take you without marriage when he has a perfect opportunity, that is a great pity because tomorrow you will outshine all, and he will be extremely sorry.”

  “Do you think we can manage to make him sorry?”

  “Hm.” Charlotte stood. “And that’s a very definite hm.”

  “What did James’s father do?” Sarah asked as Charlotte reached the doorway.

  “He fathered me, too.”

  Sarah took her bottom lip between her teeth, and then she nodded. “I wondered. I don’t suppose he’ll let on, though.”

  Charlotte swallowed her astonishment and realized that Sarah would have to be very gullible to imagine that Charlotte’s mother, a vitally attractive woman, would have been enough interested in seventy-year-old Joseph Davies to allow him to give her a baby before marriage. She took a deep breath and let out half her apprehension with a whoosh. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  * * * *

  Nick arrived home after midnight. Thomas had waited up, which infuriated Nick, who hadn’t had a drink and didn’t need an escort to his room. “Touch me and you’ll find another job,” he said, his voice icily clear.

  Tonight he hadn’t primed himself with alcohol or found an amenable female to forget the realities of his life. Instead, he spent his evening at Dixon’s, in vague, restless conversations about politics, the criminal justice system, and the needs of the poor. His treacherous, unfaithful wife had changed him into a respectable citizen, and he resented her influence as much as he resented her disloyalty. He’d grown accustomed to being her escort and belonging to a greater community than the bottle. He’d had an extended family for the first time in his life.

  Thomas nodded and dimmed the lamps as Nick walked up the stairs. He entered his sitting room in darkness, struggling out of his jacket, which he tossed at his bedroom door. His cravat followed, and he undid his waistcoat as he approached Charlotte’s room. The time he’d come home drunk, she’d been awoken by him bumping into furniture, but tonight she didn’t stir as he invaded her bedroom.

  “Sorry I’m so late,” he said, sitting on the side of her bed and removing his shoes.

  She rolled over and opened her eyes. In the moonlight, her thick hair in one long plait and just aroused from a deep sleep, the woman was so heart-stoppingly beautiful that he understood why his friend had betrayed him.

  He stripped off his socks and stood to unbutton his trousers.

  She cleared her throat. “You’re in the wrong bedroom.”

  “You’re my wife. I belong in your bed. I deserve you, don’t doubt it.” He lifted the bedclothes and, naked, lay on his back, palms behind his head.

  “You missed watercress soup,” she said, inexplicably.

  “What?”

  “The last of the alphabet tastings.”

  He laughed without amusement. “You’ve shaken my esteem today. Am I so repulsive? Clara, ever the lady, trapped me with her husband’s get while you have gone to great lengths to find the least suitable lover you could. Or do you actually have feelings for Luke?”

  She sat up, leaned back against the headboard, and crossed her arms. “I’m desperately in love with him. That’s why I married you.”

  His head reeled. “You
married me because you couldn’t have him?”

  “You see, he wasn’t drunk. I couldn’t trick him.”

  “You didn’t trick me, either. It’s just that I can’t resist little sluts. I wanted you from the moment you ripped at your bodice, but you didn’t want a real marriage, not with me. When you discovered we could couple with a condom, you left me.”

  “You didn’t want a real marriage. You kept your mistress.”

  “I got rid of her for you, and I tried every way I could to crawl back into your bed. I even left you to go your own way until you were ready.” His thoughts fell apart. “I won’t bother any longer. You’re free to do as you like. I no longer want you. You’re a whore just like your mother.”

  Charlotte gasped. “You didn’t know my mother.”

  He rolled to the side, taking the bedclothes with him. She tried to snatch her blankets back, but he held the bulk twined around him. Confusingly, she pressed her warm cheek against the skin of his back. Her hand threaded across his ribs and she sighed out a soft breath.

  Not about to be influenced by her female wiles, he stopped her hand with his, but she took her palm to the warmth of his abdomen. Without a qualm, and with complete disregard of his insults, she spooned her body against him. He forced a sound of derision.

  “You want it from me now, do you?” Indicating his despicable need, he shifted her hand to his erection. “I didn’t find a woman tonight, as you can feel, not when I remembered I had my own little harlot at home waiting for me. And you have been waiting, haven’t you, my precious bloom?” His hand left hers as he rolled over, facing her.

  “I’ve been asleep. Still would be, but for you.”

  He lay with his head on the pillow, eyes open, waiting for a credible thought. “If you didn’t want me, you would have thrown me out. Ergo…”

  He lifted her wrists above her head, taking both in his left, undamaged fist, while he rolled atop her. Without using as much as a cursory touch to ascertain her readiness, he forced her legs apart with his knees. His face above hers, he positioned himself and plunged into her. Unprepared, she jerked but instantly reacted with a surge of moisture. He despised her for her lack of discrimination and himself for being glad. Holding her in place by the power of his thighs, he continued to thrust.

  When she reacted by winding her legs around him, he instantly changed the rhythm of his thrusts, penetrating deeply and withdrawing slowly, watching her face crease with frustration. Then he made his strokes short, fast, uneven, and shallow, teasing her with his lack of purpose. He knew her body as well as he knew his own. He had no intention of letting her reach fulfillment.

  She butted his shoulder and so he slid out of her, holding her knees together so that he could roll her away from him. He heard her moan of anguish, and she began to sob uncontrollably. Against all reason, he took her into his arms. His hand stroked her hair.

  “Love me, Nick. I want you to love me.”

  He rolled out of her bed, gathered up his clothes, and left.

  * * * *

  Charlotte drew air into her lungs, huddling, awash with tears that swelled and blocked her nose and dribbled from her chin. She cried for her mother who died without being offered respectability by the man she loved. She cried for Sarah who chased the man she wanted while losing sight of the fact that he might catch her if she stopped. She cried for Luke who was so determined to be cautious that he might miss the prize. She cried for Nick who simply could not believe in love.

  When her whole body ached with weariness, she cried for herself. Nick had come to her bed, not in love and not in drunkenness, for she couldn’t smell alcohol on his breath, but in stark, cold rage. He’d meant to show her his lust couldn’t overcome his disgust of a wife who’d had an affair with another man, which he still, ridiculously, believed. She wiped her face, still shuddering with sobs.

  She couldn’t live her life under the rule of constant jealous scrutiny. A man who couldn’t trust, couldn’t love.

  * * * *

  After a night with only a few hours of sleep, Charlotte arose and dressed in her black riding skirt. The riding hat Sarah had borrowed looked squashed. One feather was missing and the other two broken and crushed, echoing Charlotte’s mood so completely that she almost wore the darned thing.

  However, she had planned today for a lifetime. She had married Nick so that she could have today, the day when she would show society that birth, legitimate or not, didn’t show the worth of a person. She had been trained for today—educated with her father’s annuity to her mother. This was the day when she would fulfill her mother’s every wish.

  Society would see her as a woman, not necessarily as a lady, strong enough, tough enough, and smart enough to plan and execute an event that would honor her husband and her father-in-law and give her cousin an opportunity to shine with the best. She would prove she was as good as anyone, no matter how rich or wellborn.

  Therefore, she would begin the day the way she meant to end it, properly dressed and showing her proudest face. Instead of her bright green riding jacket, she put on her blue jacket and the hat she had decorated with red silk roses.

  Outside, she heard hooves on the drive and knew Red Robin had arrived, as usual. She skittered down the stairs and met Harvey at the front door. “Is Rob ill?”

  “Nah. I thought the walk would do me good. Drivin’ all day makes a man lazy. My, that’s what I calls a hat,” he said with an admiring glance.

  “It’s cheerful.” She forced a smile as she took the horse’s reins.

  “Watch her. She’s testy this morning. Tried to nip me.”

  Charlotte ran her hand over the mare’s neck. “That’s unusual. I know she’s mischievous some days, but she’s never mean.”

  “I ’spect she’s upset about yesterday. She didn’t like being taken away from her oats.”

  “Who did that?”

  Harvey shook his head, dolefully. “Miss Sarah wanted to ride her.”

  Charlotte moistened her mouth. She’d never baulked at sharing her clothes with Sarah, but she hadn’t planned on sharing her horse with someone who didn’t understand horses and wouldn’t appreciate the finer points of riding one as high bred as Red Robin. “How did she manage?” She didn’t meet Harvey’s gaze, not wanting him to see she was upset.

  “Couldn’t say. Came back a couple of hours later, Rob says, both in a bad mood. Miss Sarah must have offended the ’orse, bad.”

  Charlotte stroked her horse’s nose, her throat thick. “Never mind, Red. Like me, you can’t depend on having everything your own way.”

  She spent one gloriously irresponsible hour riding in the park before going home to a house that bustled with importance. The canopy was almost erected when she arrived back. After changing, she took breakfast with her swollen eyed cousin.

  “Vera says I’ll want cucumber on my eyes before tonight,” Sarah said, glancing at Charlotte’s face. “You look a little peaked, too.”

  “I don’t have time to be peaked. I can already hear the sound of deliveries. I’ll start with the flowers and get that job out of the way, that is, unless you want to do the decorations.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m supposed to count glasses, of all things. I can’t imagine why a maid can’t do that.”

  “The maids will be fully occupied, don’t doubt it. There’s more to organizing a sizeable function than you can imagine.”

  “Well, keep me occupied so that I don’t have time to be nervous.”

  Charlotte nodded, sure she wouldn’t have time to be nervous either, and certainly no time to worry about Nick, or what she could say to a man she had begged to love her, who couldn’t because of his lack of faith.

  The line had been drawn. She suspected that nothing would make her cross it.

  * * * *

  Nick deliberately ate breakfast late. He didn’t want to face Charlotte. He left for his club as early as he could, knowing the supper dance would be better a
rranged without his participation. Likely, the night could as well.

  Deciding not to take a horse to stand all day in the club mews, he sent for Harvey with the brougham. As usual, the man couldn’t keep his annoying mouth shut. “Wonderful thing the mistress is doing,” he said as he let down the step.

  Nick grunted, assuming the man alluded to the damned supper dance.

  “Rare treat to have her in the brougham every day. Hats! Each day a new one. Everyone stares. Not another lady in the whole city what is as clever with hats as our lady.”

  “The cleverest little shopper in the whole of Adelaide,” Nick muttered, stepping into the vehicle.

  “Mind you, she needed a new one this morning for riding. Miss Sarah made a right shambles of the black one yesterday, I heard tell. Made Red Robin a bundle of nerves, too, yet Mrs. Alden didn’t turn a hair when I told her.”

  “I doubt any other man in Adelaide is regaled with gossip about ladies’ hats first thing in the morning. Your job is to drive. Take me to Dixon’s without another word.”

  Harvey backed away and took the driver’s seat. The stiff set of his shoulders spoke volumes about the rebuke. Nick didn’t want to know anything about Charlotte’s hat, having recalled that the green feather came from her riding hat—the one that Sarah had made into a shambles yesterday. “Harvey.” He leaned forward. “Did you say Miss Sarah had Mrs. Alden’s hat and horse yesterday?”

  Harvey clamped his lips.

  “You may answer when I ask you a question.”

  “She did,” Harvey said in a surly voice.

  “Although I know my wife is doing many wonderful things, to which were you referring earlier?”

  “I can’t say, being as how I’m no gossip.” The carriage jerked as Harvey sped up the horses.

  Nick waited until the brougham stopped outside Dixon’s. “You take my wife out every day. Where does she go?”

  Harvey leaned forward, tied the reins to the brake, and stepped down from the driver’s seat. “Mrs. Alden visits friends, and she works for her charity, a very worthy cause, in my ’umble opinion,” he said, carefully letting down the steps. “The lady is an angel, a true angel of mercy, and I wouldn’t gossip about her. Not never.”