The Betrothed (Cutter's Creek Book 7)

by Vivi Holt

  “Well, m’Lady, there are only so many suitable bachelors in Cumbria and around the Lakes District. Perhaps you should speak to your parents about going down to London more often.”

  “I wish they would travel more. If Mother and Father would only take me to court, I might meet a dashing, young prince, or someone romantic like that. But they never do. You know, my parents have always told me they’d let me decide who I wanted to marry. But I get the feeling they’re becoming impatient with me.”

  “You are nigh on one-and-twenty, m’Lady.”

  “And is one-and-twenty really so old? I certainly don’t feel old.”

  “Not old at all, but it’s the time for marrying to your parents’ way of thinking, m’Lady.”

  “Well, I’m not going to marry the Duke and I won’t be marrying soon, that I can assure you.”

  Mary smoothed the skirts of the green silk gown and both women admired Charlotte’s reflection in the full-length looking glass beside her dressing table. “You look lovely, m’Lady.”

  “Not too lovely, I hope.”

  “No, m’Lady – just the right amount, I’d say.” Mary grinned and left the room as Charlotte finished her preparations for dinner. She pinched her cheeks and hurried downstairs after Mary.

  Chapter Three

  The Duke smiled at Charlotte over his long, thin nose and twirled the tips of his spindly mustache between his fingers. “I hear you enjoy the hunt, Lady Charlotte.”

  “I do, Your Grace. And you?”

  “Yes indeed, although I must say I prefer a good cigar on the whole. There’s something so satisfying about an evening in the parlor with a smoke between one’s lips. Don’t you think?”

  “I can’t say I agree, Your Grace. I prefer the outdoors myself.”

  “Well, well. That is highly unusual for a lady, I must say. Not about the cigar, of course. Ladies don’t smoke and that’s an admirable quality for you to have, m’Lady.” His cheeks blushed pink and he took a bite of the roast beef.

  “Oh no, I assure you. I have many friends who love to walk in the outdoors and ride. Sometimes when I’m alone, I even swim in the creek.”

  “Charlotte!” her father barked, his eyebrows tall crescents above wide eyes.

  “Sorry, Father.” She bowed her head to her meal, a smile forming along one side of her mouth. “How was London when you last visited, Your Grace?”

  The Duke wiped his mouth with a napkin and laid it back in his lap. “It was lively as always.”

  “Did you see Her Highness?” Charlotte asked.

  “I did. She is well. Still in mourning, of course, although everyone says that she should have given it up by now. It seems she is determined not to let go of the memory of her late husband, which is admirable.”

  “It is. She must have loved him very much.” Charlotte’s eyes shone.

  “Indeed.”

  “And how is your sister?” asked Charlotte’s mother.

  “She is well, thank you, Lady Cheryl. She remains in London with my parents. She is lately engaged to the Duke of Edinburgh. They will marry in the summer and she seems happy with her choice.”

  “Oh, that is good news,” she replied.

  Charlotte sliced off a piece of fried potato and slipped it between her lips.

  “Yes, matrimony is always a cause for celebration. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Charlotte?” He turned to face her, his lips pulled into a thin smile.

  “Of course. Your sister has my congratulations and best wishes. And yet I imagine not everyone engaged could be as happy as she. I wonder if love is so easy to discover for us all.”

  “But perhaps love is something that can be grown over time.”

  “I’m sure it can. As long as the seed of it is there to begin with.”

  “Yes, I imagine so.” He took to twirling his mustache again, a look of annoyance growing on his face.

  Charlotte’s parents exchanged a troubled glance and signaled to the servants to bring the next course.

  ***

  After the Duke had left, Charlotte’s parents cornered her in the parlor, where the smell of the men’s cigars had wafted in from the dining room, leaving behind a heady aroma. She was seated, her ankles crossed, on a silk loveseat, engrossed in Shakespeare’s sonnets, and imagining herself lost in a storm with only her wits to save her, when they strode in to confront her.

  “I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” said Lord Edward Beaufort.

  “Yes, Father. I generally am rather pleased, but is there something in particular I should be pleased about?” She closed her book and laid it beside her on the seat.

  Her father stood, his hands on his hips as he glared at her. “You think you’ve driven the Duke away, no doubt, that he’ll no longer want you as his bride. But I’m happy to say, my dear girl, that is not the case.”

  “You mean, he still wishes to marry me?”

  Her mother chimed in, brushing her hands down her skirts. “Yes, he does. He says he looks forward to taming you, and I don’t envy him the chore. Heaven knows we’ve tried for twenty years to no avail.”

  “Taming me? That doesn’t sound agreeable at all. I don’t wish to marry the man, so it matters little to me what he wants.”

  “It’s not up to you, this time, my dear. Your father and I have spoken about it, and we think you’re being far too choosy. We had intended to allow you to choose your own husband, but we have given you every opportunity to find someone without success. So we have arranged for you to marry the Duke. He is a good man, a kind man, and the alliance will be very beneficial to you and to your family.”

  “What do you mean, arranged? Are you saying that we’re to be married whether I wish it or not?”

  “That is what we’re saying,” replied her father, his eyes softening.

  “But Father,” Charlotte pleaded, “I don’t want to leave the manor. Certainly not for the Duke. Please don’t make me go!”

  “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s a good match and I believe you’ll be happy. He’s a good man, an honorable man. You could do much worse.”

  Charlotte began to sob and dropped to her knees at her father’s feet. “Please, Papa, please, don’t make me marry that man! I can’t stand him – he’s old and boring and pompous! I’ll be trapped – I’ll never get to do anything exciting! My life will be over! Please, Papa!”

  He looked away, unable to watch her beg, then strode from the room.

  Her mother reached down and lifted her to her feet with a soft hand. “Charlotte my dear, you’ve always been so strong-willed and stubborn. You never listen to us. But listen this time, my dear – we know what is best for you. You should marry, and the Duke is a very good match for you. He will not dominate you, but neither will he let you run over him as you would if you were always given your way.

  “He can provide for you and I believe he will love you. You can be happy if you only choose to be, my dear. We do this because we care about you and we know that this union will benefit not only you but your father and I as well, and your children to come. It is done, Charlotte dear, and the sooner you come to terms with it and make your peace, the better things will go for you.”

  Her mother cupped Charlotte’s cheek with one hand for a moment, then left the parlor to retire for the evening, leaving Charlotte sobbing alone on her knees.

  Chapter Four

  The next day, Charlotte rose early and hurried downstairs in her riding habit. Her parents weren’t up yet and would likely take their breakfast in their rooms. They rarely came downstairs before eight o’clock. She strode into the dining room, where an assortment of breakfast foods were already displayed in case any of the family did decide to eat there. She grabbed a hot bread roll and quickly slathered it in creamy yellow butter.

  Mary came in through the swinging kitchen door. “Good morning, Lady Charlotte.”

  “’Morning, Mary.” She took a huge bite of the roll and the butter dripped from her chin to the floor below.

  Mary made a tu
tting sound and handed her a napkin. “Really, Lady Charlotte, just because your parents aren’t down yet, you could still sit at the table and eat like the lady you are.”

  “Can’t today, Mary. I’m heading out on Amber.” She smiled and wiped her chin with the cloth.

  Mary passed Charlotte a small cup filled with hot chocolate balanced on a matching china saucer. “Here you go, m’Lady.”

  “Thank you.” Charlotte took a few sips and laid the cup on the sideboard as she skipped from the room, still munching on the roll.

  “Where shall I tell your parents you’ve gone to, m’Lady,” Mary called after her retreating form.

  “I thought I’d ride into the village. I won’t be long.”

  As she ran down the manor’s front stairs and onto the crunching gravel of the drive, Charlotte’s smile faded. She really needed to get away. She still couldn’t believe her parents were forcing her to marry the Duke. They’d always seemed so patient and understanding with her over the years, she hadn’t seen it coming. She pushed the last bite of the roll into her mouth as she marched into the stables.

  Whinnies emitted from each of the stalls, and several heads appeared over the ropes. Ears pricked forward and noses sniffed the air for some hint of a treat.

  “Hello, darlings. I hope you all slept well.” She patted each forehead and slipped the horses a piece of carrot before stopping at Amber’s stall and rubbing her chestnut forelock and the long white blaze that reached from her ears to her nose and covered her entire snout. She pulled a long carrot from her pocket and watched with satisfaction as the horse consumed it in two bites. “Amber my dear, are you ready for some fresh air?”

  Charlotte collected the saddle and saddle blanket from the back of the stable where she’d hung them the previous evening and hurried to saddle Amber. Before long, they were on their way. Charlotte smoothed her skirts down over both legs. She wished for the umpteenth time that she didn’t have to ride sidesaddle. She didn’t understand why women had to ride in such an awkward manner when men could always ride astride and shout hurrah and stand in the stirrups to jump over hedges or fences and be as wild as they pleased.

  She sniffed and leaned forward over Amber’s neck with a sly glance at the manor on her right. “Hurrah!” she shouted, slapping the horse’s neck with the ends of her reins. Amber leaped forward into a gallop, and they careened down the driveway toward the lane with Charlotte clinging to her back and grinning in delight.

  The lane that led from the manor to the village of Greyburn was quaint and winding. It crested the hilly fells with bursts of wildflowers lining its banks and delved into valleys and woodlands where butterworts, bluebells and mosses were interspersed with the occasional oak tree.

  Charlotte and Amber trotted along, enjoying the solitude and the beauty of the untamed countryside. A grand lake stretched out along the left side of the road, and Charlotte sighed deeply as she imagined herself swimming through the frigid waters and frolicking with friends on the sunny banks in the summertime as the villagers sometimes did. If only it were proper for a lady to join them.

  She frowned. It seemed nothing of any interest was proper for a lady to do. And now she was to be married. No doubt she’d be a mother before the year was out, and then she’d never get to go anywhere or do anything fun. She’d enjoyed a relative amount of freedom living at Beaufort Manor, but as the Duchess of Notherington, she knew that would likely change.

  She might enjoy the time they’d spend in London. Other than that, the restrictions she knew would be placed on her life made her feel as though the breath was being squeezed from her lungs. She clawed at the restrictive corset that dug deeply into her abdomen, desperately seeking air. She slipped from the mare’s back and leaned against an aged timber fence that lined the lane, her chest heaving. She felt the hot wetness of tears on her cheeks and quickly dashed them away with the back of her hand.

  Her life felt as though it was no longer her own. She belonged to another and had no choice about the direction of her future. Her destiny was in the hands of a man she could barely tolerate. The thought filled her with despair and made the tears fall heavier still.

  Before long she wiped her cheeks dry with a handkerchief, which she shoved back into her jacket pocket with resolve. She knew that she had no choice about whom she would marry or when. But she did have a choice about how she’d act, and she wasn’t going to cry over it. Something her grand-mama used to tell her when she was a child came back to mind as she stood, staring out over the great lake with wild green gullies and rocky crags surrounding it: “You may not choose your circumstances, my dear Charlotte, but you can choose how you react to them.”

  She considered those words now and calmed her breathing. Perhaps she had no say over the direction of her own life, but she did have a choice about some things. And maybe the Duke could be encouraged to her way of thinking in time. He seemed amiable enough. She scurried back to where Amber was standing, grazing along the side of the lane, and swept up onto her back. With a yell, she kicked her forward and the two of them thundered toward the village that sat nestled on the edge of the valley ahead.

  The lane turned sharply as it entered the village of Greyburn and Charlotte pulled hard on Amber’s reins to slow her down and make the corner. As they rounded the corner, a man stepped out to cross the lane. Amber’s hooves clattered loudly on the cobblestone and he glanced up in surprise, jumping backward out of the way as they passed. “Hey, watch it!” he yelled.

  Charlotte waved her hand in apology. “Whoa, whoa there,” she called to the horse as she slowed her headlong pace and relaxed into a trot down the main street. Her heart hammered in her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief and let the reins drop loosely beside Amber’s neck as she reached forward to stroke her damp coat. That had been a close call. She should really have slowed the mare much sooner to round that corner.

  The length of the street was lined with gray stone buildings. A wagon was parked outside the local hotel and pedestrians lined the narrow causeway. The townsfolk had stopped to watch her arrival with wide eyes but now returned to their business, their curiosity satiated. Everyone in Greyburn was familiar with Lady Charlotte and her mare.

  Several children pointed at her and chattered behind raised hands. Charlotte waved to them as she pulled Amber over to a nearby gate and dismounted. She slipped the reins around the gate, securing Amber in place and set off toward the markets that she knew would be operating in the center of town.

  The sound of running made her pause and spin about. The man she’d almost bowled over strode up to her, his face thunderous. “What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?” He stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips and his eyebrows pressed down over sparking brown eyes.

  Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t recognize the man, and she thought she knew everyone in town. Perhaps he was from somewhere else. Either way, his dimples and snapping brown eyes made her heart skip a beat. “I really don’t think that kind of language is necessary, sir.” She lifted her nose and sniffed to show her disdain.

  “My language is just about right, I’d say. You almost killed me. You were riding like a crazy woman!”

  “Excuse me! Do you know who I am?”

  “I don’t care who you are, just watch where you’re going, okay?” He drew a deep breath, as recognition seemed to dawn. He rubbed his hand across his face and groaned. “Lady Charlotte, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you in the heat of the moment.”

  “Never mind. I’ll admit I was riding a little too fast into the village. I was upset and didn’t monitor my pace the way that I should have. I’ll accept your apology if you’ll accept mine. Mr …”

  He grinned and his brown hair flopped across his forehead. “Apology accepted. Mr. Brown – Harry Brown. I grew up just outside Greyburn, m’Lady.

  “Oh yes, of course. Harry Brown, I remember your family. How are they?

  “They’re well, thank you, m’Lady.”


  “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Brown.”

  “Nice to see you, m’Lady, and try to be more careful. Please.” He nodded his head and tipped his hat to her, then shoved his hands into his pockets and continued down the road, whistling a ditty.

  Charlotte watched him leave, her heart still pounding in her chest. She remembered him now, but he’d certainly grown since she last saw him. She didn’t remember him looking like that! If only he were a duke, all her troubles might be over. She shook her head and turned toward the markets. She hoped to buy some fresh hothouse flowers for her mother. Perhaps she could smooth things over and get her mother to see things her way before it was too late.

  Chapter Five

  Harry whistled as he walked through the village. It had been a long time since he’d seen Lady Charlotte, and he was surprised at how beautiful she’d become. He remembered a pompous spoiled child with long blonde ringlets, trouncing around Greyburn in white frilly dresses and stockings with a lace parasol waving above her head. Not the wild, strikingly beautiful woman who galloped headlong into town wearing a fashionable riding outfit and leaping from her horse with pink cheeks and disheveled hair.

  He shook his head with a grin. She certainly made an impression. Too bad he didn’t stand a chance with a woman like that.

  He passed the blacksmith’s shop and waved a greeting to the smithy working there. Just beyond the hotel, he could see the markets stretched out across the town square westward through to the park where a small stone water fountain glistened in the sunshine.

  “Hiya there, Harry!” a voice called.

  He turned toward the sound and saw Kip McGill running over to greet him. “Morning, Kip. How are you?”

  “Well enough, Harry. Are you goin’ to the square?”

  “I am. I thought I’d grab some fruit for Mother. She’s doin’ poorly. The baby’s givin’ her a real hard time.”