So Charlotte packed a basket with some things she thought her friend might like, some ells of linen and cakes, and headed to the small cottage.
When she arrived, however, her friend was not alone, for there, as large as life in the parlor, like a waiting spider, was Herbert Paxton.
Her heart gave a small lurch, and she thought she would faint. It was good to see him, standing there looking so blond and handsome. However, she was married now, and she had given her word to Thomas that she would never see him if she could help it. What if he found out...
"I see you have company. I shall just leave these things and see you another time, Agnes," she said, dropping the basket as abruptly as if it had scalded her.
"Charlotte, Charlotte, wait!" Herbert pleaded.
"There is nothing you can say to me. I'm a married woman now, and appalled that Agnes would betray me like this."
"Don't blame her. I begged her to let me see you one more time."
"Well, you've seen me now. I am well and happy. I wish the same for you. Goodbye."
She ran out the front door and toward the waiting carriage. She heard him call after her, but fortunately he did not come out of the house, so the driver did not see Herbert, or so she hoped.
The last thing she wanted was for Thomas to find out she had seen him. Plus, he had warned her about Agnes. He had been right all along. The woman did not wish her well.
She was so sorry now that she had not listened to her husband.
Well, she would not be caught like that again, she vowed, and congratulated herself on a lucky escape.
A week later, her aunt Margaret requested a visit from her, but Charlotte put her off, saying she was too busy with the rehearsals for 'She Stoops to Conquer', which was to take place at the end of that week.
All of them performed very well, and those who attended at Jonathan's parish hall praised them highly. Charlotte was enjoying her triumph until she caught sight of Herbert at the back of the hall.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Thomas asked, seeing her looking tight-lipped and pale.
"I'm fine, just so thirsty."
"Well, we can remedy that easily. I shall go get you some punch."
"No, not yet." She stayed him with a gentle hand on his arm.
He raised his brows and stared at her. "Why? What is the matter, dearest?"
"I just wanted to congratulate you. You were perfect and helped me recover well when I forgot my lines." She reached up and kissed him, and he let his lips linger on hers.
They were in company. He could count on Jonathan to make a sarcastic remark to bring him to his senses before long.
The only trouble was, Charlotte seemed to lose hers, for she was so ardent she soon had him trembling like a callow youth. His desire became most painfully constricted to the point where he had to pull away before he backed her up against the wall and ground his hips up against her in front of the whole parish.
"What have I done wrong?" she asked, hurt at his withdrawal into cool indifference once more.
"It's not you," he whispered hurriedly, "it's not- Ahem, it's not the time or the place. We need to consider what we're doing. It's too much. And in public as well."
He took her hand, kissed it, and led her back to the chattering group of actors. She looked at her husband in confusion. Why was he always drawing away? Was she really so repulsive? Too heated? Not passionate enough?
Clifford and Vanessa were giving each other long heated looks which filled Charlotte with envy. She wanted Thomas to look at her like that.
But he had no cause to. Not when he had every reason to believe that she was still in love with Herbert.
But what had she felt when she had seen him those two times? Surprise, and...fear. Yes, that was it, fear. She did not want him to ruin the life she now had.
And it was not because of all the wonderful possessions she owned, or living in a castle and being a duchess. It was because she did not want to hurt Thomas, lie to him.
So was she not doing that now? Pretending an indifference to him she did not feel whenever they met, when what she really wanted to do was finish what she had started in the coach all those weeks ago the night of her failed elopement?
She sighed. She had created a complicated maze in her life, a winding web of lies based on her pride and arrogance. She had no idea how to break free. All she knew was that if it was not love she felt for Thomas, then she had no clue what love meant.
But how to convince him? And what if he did not love her? How could she know for certain?
She looked up at Thomas's handsome face searchingly, but the all-important answers eluded her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Charlotte was looking forward to a quiet day alone with her husband after the excitement of the play, but alas, it was not to be. Her aunt turned up at the Castle the following day, acting even more high-handed than usual, until Charlotte felt fit to scream.
She should have been alerted to danger, but she was alone in the house, Thomas having gone into Eltham village. Her aunt barged into her private parlor she shared with Thomas before she could even give any instructions to the servants.
After the stock greetings, the older woman said, "I did not attend the performance of She Stoops to Conquer, but I heard you were wonderful. Herbert was full of admiration."
"That is kind of you to say, but I'm not interested in the opinion of the gentleman in question. I'm married now, and not able or willing to renew our former acquaintance."
Her aunt remained silent on the subject, and Charlotte was relieved. She should have smelt a rat, however, when she requested a tour of the grounds. Her aunt, after all, was not noted for her fondness for exercise and fresh air.
They had just turned the corner of the box hedge, when Herbert appeared. Her aunt vanished like a thief in the night.
She turned to depart as well, but he snatched her arm and held her in place.
"Please, Charlotte, hear me out! I know you have cause to be angry with me. I got cold feet. I wasn't brave enough to elope with you.
"But I've been miserable ever since that fateful night. I never dreamed that you would be married so suddenly. I thought I might have a chance when I came back, but-"
"There is no chance," Charlotte said firmly, her blue eyes flashing. "You missed your opportunity. I'm married and that is the end of it."
"But you still love me! I know you do! You would not have consented to be mine otherwise," he insisted.
She gathered the collar of her lightweight royal blue spencer around her neck protectively, misliking the burning look in his eyes. "I was confused. Innocent. I recognize now that what we shared was a simple flirtation, that was all. You turned the head of a naïve girl. You're dealing with a woman now, and one who knows the difference between love and infatuation."
"Ah, it is because you are now a woman that I know you'll understand the depths of my passion for you. I will not be denied." He moved to kiss her, and she panicked.
"Perforce you must be," she said, breaking free of the crushing grip upon her wrist and running for the garden door. "I do deny you! I don't ever want to see you again."
"I shall die if I cannot have you!" he panted, his eyes fixing upon her like a wolf upon its prey.
"I pity you, but I cannot love you. Please go away. Leave the neighborhood, and never come back."
"You say this because you are fearful of the consequences of giving your love to me. But if no one finds out-"
She looked at him in horror. He was in earnest! "I would know! And God!"
He snorted in derision. "God will do nothing."
"Not in this life, but certainly in the next," she said, feeling such disgust at his lewd suggestions that her stomach churned. "Leave, Mr. Paxton, and never come back."
Charlotte managed to get in the door and lock it before he could detain her. She was trembling like a leaf in a gale, and noted the sleeve of her sprigged muslin gown had been torn. She gazed in horror at the skin underneat
h. She had bruises all over her arm where he had twisted it.
This was what he called love? It was just obsession, lust, spite. He only wanted her because she was unattainable. Well, she would never see him again. She would never even try to muster any politeness if she happened to come across him.
Quaking on legs which could barely hold her upright, she crept up to her room by the back stairs before Thomas found her with a torn gown, and wrested the whole story from her. He could never know that Herbert was still pursuing her. He just wouldn't understand...
But then, he would not understand her keeping things from him either. She was damned no matter what.
Ten days later, she sat at the breakfast table with her husband, discussing their plans for the day.
"Pamela Ashton is having an at home this evening for all of her female circle of acquaintance. May I go?"
He peered over the morning paper at her. "Er, yes, if you like."
"I shan't go if you don't approve," she said earnestly, willing to do anything to breach his reserve.
"I think she's a bit flighty, and I'm not sure what you have in common. But there's nothing wrong with the girl that a little sensible conversation won't fix. Now that you are out of the Marriage Mart, she's become the most eligible woman in the County. I think it's gone to her head. You will warn her about-"
"I already have. About not doing anything rash, or allowing herself to be led into anything which will have long-lasting consequences."
He smiled tightly. "There is no particular beau hanging about her, is there?"
"No, none that I know of," she said truthfully.
But the question filled her with unease. Herbert would pine only so long before he moved on to another innocent victim.
She shook her head. No, it was not possible. He had loved her, had said he would die without her. He was not simply some predatory seducer. Thomas disliked him, but he had no proof, nor did she. Surely he could not be as bad as all that...
Charlotte was having an enjoyable time with the other girls at the Ashtons' and felt carefree and happy for a time, until she recollected that Thomas was at home alone.
The company was pleasant, but certainly not as stimulating as that of her husband. She longed to see his handsome face, his bright emerald eyes sparkling down at her as he laughed at some witticism.
She was gathering her shawl and reticule in preparation for leaving when Agnes appeared. She looked more ill that she had ever seen her. Charlotte decided to linger for a little while longer, and when she had the opportunity, she pulled Agnes over to one side.
"My dear, I know we're not friends any longer the way we used to be, but I am most concerned about your appearance. The shadows under your eyes, your pallor. And you're so thin. If there's anything I can do, please tell me?"
Agnes's once-beautiful face crumpled, and the tears began to flow. "I shouldn't have come. You're right, I'm ill. Please, can you take me home in the carriage?"
"I had not thought to leave just yet," she lied, "but my driver will see you safely home."
"Please come with me," Agnes begged. "I must speak with you on a most private matter."
Charlotte was filled with misgivings, but she could see Agnes was genuinely unwell, and simply could not leave her in such distress.
"Very well. I shall take you home."
Shortly after they left, Thomas arrived at the Ashtons' house. He had been hoping to surprise his wife and accompany her home in the carriage, but found to his dismay that she had already left with Agnes.
He wanted to trust his wife, tell himself that his fears were groundless. But the demons of jealousy and desire gripped him. He fetched his mount from the stable again, and followed along the road.
About halfway to Agnes's house, he saw the carriage stop, and the blonde woman get out. A dark-clad figure emerged from the shadows, and entered the carriage.
He sat in an agony of suspense, as one minute passed, then two. One half of him wanted to be sick. The other half wanted to storm into the carriage and beat Herbert to a pulp.
Just as he was about to do the latter, he saw his wife scramble out of the coach, and call to the driver. Herbert came out of the vehicle, searching for her, shouting. Charlotte took the hand the driver offered her, and pulled herself onto the box beside the coachman. Immediately he whipped up the team into a smart trot, leaving Herbert cursing by the side of the road.
Barnet the coach driver could see his mistress was greatly distressed, but asked no questions. It was that Miss Agnes who'd tricked her, he was sure of it.
All the same, he had to report to his employer what had happened. He had been told to look out for a violent blond man. He had certainly just seen one. One up to no good, of that he was sure.
Inside the coach, Herbert had tried to convince Charlotte to run away with him. When that had failed, Herbert had threatened to tell her husband she'd been unfaithful if she did not give him money.
When she'd said she did not have any, he had sneered, "He has settled your property on you. I found out from your aunt, who got it directly from your father."
She stared at him in confusion. She looked at the face she had once considered handsome, now distorted by anger and greed.
No, he had not changed. He had always been like this. She had just never seen it before. He had been good at hiding it, but then the Devil was good at disguising himself in all sorts of pleasing shapes and guises. But he was still the Devil.
Charlotte tried to make sense of his words. "I know nothing of this. So far as I knew, Thomas was the fortune hunter after me for my dowry. I thought you loved me. It shows you how wrong a person can be about another. You've all deceived me in some way."
He jeered at her. "I'm not now. Do ask I say, or you'll be sorry. Give the money to Agnes, or else your husband will be hearing from me."
Charlotte had fled at that point, and Barnet had driven her home on the box. She had not seen Thomas when she had come in.
Too upset to control her tumultuous emotions, she fled to her room, and threw herself on the bed in an agony of weeping.
She could not bear to lose Thomas-she loved him! Or at least she thought she did. How could she have ever thought she loved someone as worthless as Herbert? And what was it he had said about Thomas not being a fortune hunter after all? That she had the use of her own property? It was almost unheard of for a married woman to have discretion over her own possessions.
But that was apparently what her father had told her aunt. Her father had no reason to lie, and her aunt would scarcely have the imagination to make up something so incredible.
Thomas had lied to her. Why? And how could she trust a man she knew so little about?
She wept even harder as she reflected that she thought she had known Herbert, and look what he had turned out to be.
What on earth was she to do now? Who could she ever trust or love in a world where no one was ever what they seemed?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Charlotte paced up and down in her room all next morning, not even able to face her husband at breakfast with her swollen red eyes. Herbert's words haunted her no matter how she tried to drown them out.
Finally, she went to the stables and fetched Misty. She went into Brimley to test Herbert's assertions. Sure enough, she was able to withdraw the sum her blackmailer had asked for, two hundred pounds. The bank manager handed it over to her without a murmur, and she sent it to Agnes via one of the servants.
She had hoped that would be the end of the matter, but if she had been thinking clearly, she would have realised that if Herbert knew so much about her affairs, he would know how much money she had, and be back for more.
A second demand for money followed several days later, for five hundred pounds.
Once again she went to the bank, and the money was given to her without a quibble.
Charlotte was now in utter confusion. Why on earth had Thomas lied to her so cruelly? She had suspected his reasons for marrying her, but
he had maintained his pose as a fortune hunter. She had resented him for it bitterly.
Yet even as she had been angered by him she had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. How could she have been so deceived in both men?
Thomas spent his days and nights trying to pretend that nothing was amiss. All the while he wondered how he could have been so deceived in Charlotte. He had trusted her, thought she cared, and yet she had been seeing Herbert behind his back at Agnes' house, he was sure of it. His guard assigned to keep an eye on Herbert had reported the man there the same time his wife had been.
Barnet's confirmation of the events after Pamela Ashton's at-home had choked him with anger and misery. Charlotte was so beautiful on the outside. How could she be so corrupt within?
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 57
