by Regina Darcy
EIGHT
Charlotte hurried outside, desperate to get away from Lord Barker. The moment he had attempted to converse with her, she had made every attempt to step away, but the man had dogged her steps as though determined to get his way. That should not surprise her, given what she knew of him, but she had never once thought he would be as determined as this! After all, the man she had once loved had turned into a monster, a shade that she did not recognise. She could still recall, with frightening clarity, his insistence on having her as his bride so that he had attempted to force himself on her. Why he wanted to speak to her now, after all that had passed between them, she could not say.
The trembling in her soul increased as she continued to make her way along the garden path, not quite sure where she was going. The only thing she needed was to get away from Lord Barker. Within the ballroom, she could feel his gaze on her, his sharp eyes burning a path to her soul. Out here, at least, it was quiet and still, and she would be able to take some time to gather her thoughts.
Charlotte knew she was missing her dance with Lord Astor but hoped that he would either not notice or be willing to forgive her once she told him why she had been forced to quit the room. The urge to tell him all was strong, even though she had not told anyone but her sister and aunt the truth about what had happened and the pain that had come with it.
She had an unusual need to deepen their intimacy, to tell him of her reasons to distrust Lord Markham with her sister. In a way, she thought he might be the one to understand. She chewed her lower lip.
Even just thinking of him brought a calmness to her frantically beating heart. Mayhap she should have stayed inside and sought him out, begging him to keep Lord Barker away from her. Charlotte knew Lord Astor would have done what she asked without question. He was an honourable man, that she knew, the exact opposite of Lord Barker. He would never force himself on her in the way that Lord Barker had done, would never treat her with such disregard.
Sighing heavily, Charlotte sat down on the cold stone bench in the middle of the gardens, hearing a few murmured conversations passing by her as couples walked along the path to her left. They were far enough away for her not to overhear but still allowed her to be close enough to them without feeling unsafe and alone.
Why, why did Lord Barker have to be here with them now? She had not ever expected to see him in Bath, but mayhap his reputation in London prevented him from being able to find and secure a rich heiress from there. After all, her uncle had made no qualms of sharing the extent of Lord Barker’s poor fortune with others, hoping that he might save the next poor young lady the gentleman set his eyes on!
One would think that Lord Barker would avoid her and her family, given the amount of difficulty they had brought him, but her instinct told her the man was looking for revenge. He had tried to converse with her and had blocked her way when she had made to go past him, a grin on his face that told her he meant her nothing but harm.
His touch had repulsed her. She had tried to move away from him one last time, only for him to grab her arm and tug her back. It had frozen her to her very core, and she had stood, anger and fear twisting together in her veins, as he’d promised her the life she’d always dreamed of with him, a leer on his face as he did so.
She had known he was mocking her. Yet she was terrified that he would try to take from her what he had always intended, taking the one thing she had refused him. He might have had her heart, but he had never had her body. At the time, he had intended to force himself on her so as to force her into matrimony but now Charlotte was afraid he might do so just by way of retribution.
“Did you really think you could escape me?”
Charlotte jumped visibly, frozen on her bench as Lord Barker approached her, his face hidden by shadow whilst he came closer.
“Leave me, Barker,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “You have no right to come near me.”
“I came to get what is owed me,” he replied silkily. “You know what I want, Charlotte.”
“You are never going to have it,” Charlotte answered, getting to her feet on legs that wobbled just a little beneath her. “This is over. Our time together is over. I know what you are and what you wanted. You never wanted my heart.”
He chuckled darkly. “Nor do I want it now, Charlotte,” he breathed, stepping closer. Charlotte moved behind the bench, setting it between the two of them. “You owe me for the shame you brought me.” His expression grew ugly as the soft lantern light lit his features. “I was persona non grata in London. All of society knew what I was—practically a pauper in need of a rich wife.”
“And rightly they should,” Charlotte answered in a trembling voice. “I would not have any woman be lured by your schemes. I am glad my uncle spread the word about you. I encouraged him to do so, satisfied that my heart would be the only one you would break.”
His lip curled as he stepped towards the bench, but Charlotte did not move. Keeping herself behind the bench meant he could not easily touch her, meant she would have time to find a way to escape. Glancing from the left to the right, she saw that Lord Barker could easily grasp her if she tried to run. How had she not noticed that the couples only a stone throw away had move further afield? Too far afield. Her heart sank.
She would have to wait until, somehow, his attention was directed elsewhere or someone came in search of her—although she had very little hope it would be the latter. There was such a large crush in the ballroom that she did not think her aunt, uncle, or sister would be aware of her absence.
“I intend to have you, Charlotte,” Lord Barker bit out, lunging forward but missing her entirely. “You brought me such a great deal of pain and difficulty that it will bring me great pleasure to instil the same upon you.”
He lunged at her again, and before she could even scream, he had slammed his mouth onto hers, his hands scrabbling at her dress. Charlotte lost her breath, her mind emptying itself entirely of any thoughts or ideas as fear swirled around her. She shoved him, hard, but his grip was too firm. His teeth tore at her mouth, biting her lip, and she gasped audibly, trying desperately to push him away from her again. Her strength was nothing compared to his, and with the bench still between them, Charlotte found that the only thing she could do was to go entirely limp.
Unable to hold her up while he was kneeling on the bench, Lord Barker was forced to let her go, his mouth finally leaving hers. Before she could even think, Charlotte was up and running from him, her soft slippers growing damp in the cool grass as she made her way back towards the ballroom.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her heart thundering in her chest. She did not care what she looked like, nor what others might think. All she wanted was to leave this place at once.
However, the first person she saw was Lord Astor, who was standing against the wall, his expression dark as he hid himself amongst the shadows. Hurrying towards him, she grasped his arm, relief spreading all through her.
“Oh, Lord Astor,” she breathed, her body shaking with fright. “Might I ask for your assistance?”
“My assistance?” he repeated, turning his face away from her so as not to even look at her face. “Why should you require my assistance, Miss Cadogan?”
Unsure as to why he appeared so upset, Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat and tried her best not to cry. “I simply must find my sister,” she replied, feeling the strength in his arm as she held onto him. “Please, can you help me? I must go home at once.”
He snorted. “You must return home at once? Why, might I ask? Did someone see you engage in some kind of improper behaviour? Or are you worried that your passions might burst into full bloom outside in the gardens?”
Charlotte stared at him in shock, ice running through her veins as she saw the distaste in his expression. Had he seen her and Lord Barker?
“I do not know to what you are referring,” she said, her voice faltering. “Please, Lord Astor, I only ask that you help me find my sister.”
He did not so much as glance at her, turning his back on her entirely and walking away, leaving her to stand alone, tears threatening to stream down her cheeks once more.
Charlotte took a deep breath, putting one hand on the wall for support. Her entire world seemed to be crumbling at the edges, and the man she thought she might depend on had turned away from her. How foolish she was to believe that he would help her!
Fear clutched at her heart as she turned her head to see Lord Barker step inside, his eyes searching for her. Stumbling away from the wall, Charlotte made her way through the crowd, desperate to find the one person she could depend on.
“Theodora!” Seeing her sister standing with Lord Markham, she hurried towards her, desperately swallowing the tears that threatened to course down her cheeks at any moment.
“Goodness, Charlotte!” Theodora laughed, her humour in stark contrast to the pain Charlotte was feeling inside. “Whatever has happened? You look quite out of breath.”
“We must go,” Charlotte replied, tugging her sister’s arm and ignoring Lord Markham entirely. “Please, we must go at once.”
Theodora frowned, her eyes searching Charlotte’s face. “Why must we?” she asked quietly, her eyes fixing on Charlotte’s mouth. “Oh, Charlotte, your mouth is bleeding a little.”
Closing her eyes, Charlotte drew in a long breath, pushing away her tears and attempting to calm herself so that she would not make a scene within the ballroom. “Lord Barker is here,” she murmured, hoping Lord Markham would not hear her. “He found me. Please, we must go.”
Theodora’s expression changed at once. Her eyes rounded and she caught Charlotte’s arm, patting her hand gently. “Yes, of course, we must. Of course.” She shook her head. “He did that to you? You must tell uncle, Charlotte. He will—”
“Please,” Charlotte whispered, aware that Lord Markham was still present. “Not now, Theodora.”
Theodora nodded, understanding completely. “Yes, of course. Do excuse me, Lord Markham,” she said, bobbing a curtsy. “We must go. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Not at all,” Markham mumbled, looking both confused and concerned. “Good evening, Miss Theodora, Miss Cadogan.”
Charlotte could not even return his words, hurrying away with Theodora in search of their uncle and aunt. She needed only to get home, to be safely away from the gentleman who had caused her so much pain. A trembling in her very soul began to spread out through her limbs, and she stumbled as Theodora held onto her hand.
“Not long now,” Theodora whispered, providing Charlotte with the strength she needed to keep going. “Come now, dear sister. Let us get you home.”
NINE
“I knew it!”
Charles threw his glass into the fire, the flames sparking and stirring in the grate, reflecting his own anger. He could not believe that he had been so easily duped, believing that Miss Cadogan was in fact quite the opposite to Miss Douglas when it was now clear that she was just as bad.
“Whatever was that noise?”
William stuck his head around the study door before walking inside, frowning at Charles. “I thought you had a good evening at the ball.”
“Of course, you would think so,” Charles muttered darkly. “You had your lady with you almost all the time—although I still think it my duty to warn you away from her!”
William poured himself a brandy and sat down, his expression mild. “Is something the matter with Miss Theodora? Some other lack of virtue that you believe her guilty of, when, in fact, she is the exact opposite of what you think?”
“Ha!” Charles spat, rolling his eyes. “You see! She still has you under her spells. Her charms and smiles are all she can offer you, Markham. Her innocence and loyalty are still in question, as far as I am concerned.”
His brother regarded him carefully for another moment or two. Then he calmly put his glass of brandy down, rose to his feet, stepped forward, and without warning, punched Charles directly in the face. Charles staggered back, stunned at what his brother had just done, holding his hand to his face.
“Wh—what was that for?” he stuttered, staring at Markham who was, by this point, now taking his seat again in that same, calm manner.
“Well,” came the reply, as William lifted his glass of brandy once more. “You have insulted the lady I intend to make my wife in the worst possible way, and I will not have it, Charles.” He lifted his eyebrows, his words calm but direct. “I have had enough of you thinking such terrible things about the lady. I have had enough altogether, in fact. From now on, if you say another word about her, I shall call you out.”
“Call me out?” Charles sputtered, hardly able to believe that such strong words were coming from his younger brother. “I think that is a little over the top, don’t you?”
“No, not when it comes to the woman I love,” William replied firmly. “It needs to stop, Astor. I mean it. You may live your life of pain and continued hurt if you wish, but I will not have you talk about Theodora that way.”
Charles drew in one long, steadying breath, knowing he was going to have to share with his brother what he had seen. “I say it because I know what her sister is like. That tells me that the family has no honour.”
Much to his surprise, William let out a short laugh. “You mean Miss Cadogan? What has she done to you that you would think so poorly of her?”
Narrowing his gaze just a little, Charles’s expression became grim. “I saw her kissing another gentleman last evening.”
The laughter left William’s eyes almost at once. “You saw what?”
“I went in search of her,” Charles replied heavily. “I thought she was being forced to bear some unwanted attentions from a particular gentleman, and when she hurried outside, I thought it best to ensure she was quite safe.”
“I see,” William murmured, his expression grave. “And what did you see?”
“I saw her in an embrace—albeit an awkward one,” Charles replied, hating that the memory of it was still so clear in his mind. “It was that very same gentleman she had been talking with, I am quite sure of it, although I did not exactly wait to see who it was precisely.”
“And this has made you believe that she is exactly as Miss Douglas was,” William finished, with a shake of his head. “Goodness, Charles, you are quite determined to think ill of her, are you not?”
“I have good reason to!” Charles replied indignantly. “I saw her with my own eyes!”
William studied him for a moment. “Did you?” he asked softly. “Did you see her return to the ballroom, as I did, all of a fluster? Did you see the terror in her eyes, the blood on her lip, the desperate need to flee from the ball?”
Ice formed in Charles’s veins as he stared at William.
“No, you did not,” William continued, frowning. “She said something along the lines of, ‘He has found me’, and Theodora could not hurry her out of there quickly enough!”
“Fear?” Charles repeated, the anger and pain slowly beginning to dissipate. “You saw those things in her face?”
“In both of their faces, actually,” William replied quietly. “Has it ever occurred to you, Charles, that the lady did not want such attentions and that they were forced on her in some way?”
Charles had to admit that he had not, his stomach churning with a sudden fear. “Goodness,” he muttered to himself. “I have been quite wrong in my attitude towards her.”
“Oh no,” William muttered, sighing deeply. “What did you say to her?”
Charles cringed at the thought, aware that he had been both cruel and callous. At the time, he had not thought anything of it, growing angry with himself over his strong feelings for Miss Cadogan, only to discover that she was, as he had thought, free with her kisses and affections.
If only he had taken the time to consider things properly, he might have recalled how she had previously dressed and understood it for what it was—a disguise. She used it to hide her true appearance away from the world as if she had been badly hurt and not wanted to experience the same again.
“It was bad then, was it?” William asked wryly. “What did you say to her?”
“It was not kind, that is for certain,” Charles replied honestly. “She came to me for aid and, believing what I did about her, I sent her away. In all honesty, Markham, I did not even look at her. I could not bring myself to settle my gaze on her, for if I had seen her face, I might have come to a very different conclusion.”
His brother was quiet for a few moments as Charles battled his guilt and frustration. He had been too quick to thrust Miss Cadogan in with Miss Douglas, too hasty in his considerations of what he had seen.
“Mayhap you should find out more about this man,” his brother said eventually. “Lord Barker is his name, I believe.”
Charles lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “You know him?”
“I made some discreet enquiries,” William replied calmly. “I saw a man in search of someone and, presuming him to be looking for Miss Cadogan, asked a few of my acquaintances who he is.”
“And?”
“And there is not much to say!” William replied with a slight chuckle. “He has come from London, although I believe he was not particularly welcome in town. I cannot say why.”
Charles frowned, knowing that, whilst society could push a gentleman or lady from their favour for the smallest of indiscretions, there was always a reason behind their disfavour. “Mayhap I should go to London,” he muttered, pouring himself another brandy. “I do not think Miss Cadogan will be willing to talk to me after my behaviour towards her.”
