When Val had tried to make love to her—even now, her mind shied off from her horrific response, fighting as if her life were at stake, screaming and pushing him away. Another man would have forced the issue, but Val left the room, telling her not to worry. Her reaction shamed her.
She’d wept when he left, but she could not help her reaction. Her body had reacted before her mind had. And now she might lose him forever without knowing the joy of holding him again. For all his brave talk, he had his enemies, and they would use this to try to destroy him. The whole family had enemies.
Charlotte refused to be bowed, although she’d be an idiot to deny her fear.
They reached the London house of the Shaw family in just over an hour. At this time of year, the days were drawing out, and darkness would not fall for some time yet, so anyone who wanted to see her could. Darius descended from the carriage, and waited for her to descend. “We will take the greatest care of you.”
“I know you will.”
Within another hour, the Emperors still in London arrived en masse and gathered in the drawing room. Darius contrived to protect her from touches by guiding her to a sofa at the edge of the room, and sitting next to her. The room, when it was not cleared for balls, contained several casually arranged groups of chairs and sofas, which as they arrived the guests had no compunction in dragging around to suit their purposes. Julius, Lord Winterton, arrived with his wife; Lord Devereux and his lady; Ivan; and Ivan’s brother Lord Ripley, who did not spend much time in town these days. Four of Val’s five siblings, his parents, and nine of Val’s cousins, with spouses, made for a full drawing room.
Charlotte sat very still and rigid, trying to keep her wayward emotions in control. She was not used to suffering so many at the same time, nor was she accustomed to the strength of her passions. She was constantly on the edge of tears or edgy, uncontrollable laughter. The only way she knew how to cope with such emotions was to retreat inside herself, as she had done so often before. Quell everything, tamp it down. She had developed skill doing that. She put it into play now, and disappeared behind her facade.
The meeting passed in a daze. However hard Charlotte tried to concentrate on the vital business at hand, what they said slipped away from her even as she was grasping it.
At one point, Darius leaned over and spoke to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you over the salient points another time.”
Was her bemusement so obvious? She hardened her expression, remaining still and calm, trying to look as if she knew what was going on.
Watching them, she finally understood why the Emperors were successful. Even the new members of the family circle contributed to the discussion. Nobody was excluded. The marquess acted as unofficial head, ensuring everyone had his say and the more promising ideas taken forward. Their reach astonished her. They had tentacles in every part of society and the underworld.
They were prepared to take as long as it took. At one point, Julius’s wife, Eve, quietly left and returned half an hour later, having fed and put her baby to bed herself in the nursery upstairs. Charlotte had heard of fashionable ladies feeding their babies themselves, but that was the first time she had come across the phenomenon.
She could be pregnant with Val’s baby. Although they were under no compulsion to set up a nursery, Charlotte surprised herself with the longing that temporarily pierced her numbness. She wanted Val’s child.
They had each their assigned tasks. She cleared her throat. “May I coordinate?”
She thought they hadn’t heard her at first, but then Lord Winterton’s head swiveled in her direction. His cool blue gaze, his eyes several shades lighter than Val’s, swept over her thoughtfully, making her itchy in her skin.
“I am used to running my father’s households, so my organizational skills are very good.”
He held up a hand. “I have no doubt, ma’am. Your offer is most welcome. If you set up an office in the book room here that would work very well. Keep it locked, and lock the jib door, too. Dust will have to gather while we are busy.” He meant don’t let the servants in to spy. Charlotte was fully in agreement with that.
When he came toward her, she tried not to shrink back, but of course he would not touch her.
Except that he did. He lifted her hand to his lips.
Charlotte snatched her hand back with a cry of alarm and moved so convulsively the substantial sofa scraped back on the floor.
Reaction was instant. Julius straightened as Darius leaped up to stand protectively in front of her.
“I have to tell them,” he said regretfully. “Everyone here feels your pain, Charlotte. We will do everything we can to protect you.” He addressed Julius directly, although he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Charlotte does not like being touched at the moment. Please give her this time.”
Sympathetic murmurs and a soft cry of dismay from her motherin-law followed Darius’s statement.
He moved aside and sat down again. Charlotte folded her trembling hands in her lap. “I did it,” she said. She could not bear this group of people to be under any illusions. It was clear they would move heaven and earth for her. Would they do so when they knew the truth?
They fell silent and stared at her. “Hervey—Lord Kellett, that is—held a pistol to my head. He told Val to get the shirt, the one we told you about. We knew that his word was worth nothing, and as soon as Val left, he would kill me. Or perhaps he would do it when Val returned, so he could take the shirt and see him watch me die.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pictured the scene in her mind as if she was sitting in a box at Drury Lane watching a play. “But if Val did not go to the house, he might kill us both anyway. He had two pistols, so our only chance was when he paused to cock the second. But by that time one of us would be dead.” She swallowed, recalling the risk they took. “I tried to signal Val, and I think he understood what I planned. When he made to walk past me, it was our only chance. I dropped to the ground and grabbed the pistol. Kellett’s hold loosened, and I managed to take it. I turned it and fired.” She did not continue. If she had, she’d have admitted that she shot to kill, that she did not intend Hervey to leave that garden alive.
The guilt crippled her, especially when she’d seen the result.
“I want to tell the authorities. Val should not suffer for my sins.”
“No!” Darius, Ivan, and Julius spoke at once.
“Newgate is no place for you,” Darius added.
Julius frowned. “From what you say, either of you could have killed him. He clearly intended to murder you, so I cannot see this case being anything but self-defense. It cannot be murder.”
“They can make a case,” Darius said gloomily. He’d already outlined the events leading to Kellett’s death. He was right, the public nature of the card game, the rivalry and the duel could have led to a planned killing. But not by Val. Except that Val had a reputation for reckless behavior, and hadn’t he shot at Kellett before?
Charlotte felt sick. She swallowed, but even that small move was noticed by Julius.
“Are you growing tired?” he asked her gently, so softly Charlotte finally understood why Eve was so deeply devoted to him. The care and consideration in those words belied the reputation Lord Winterton carried of a haughty, proud man whose first name should have been Perfection. He had accepted her problem without a blink, and now he was treating her with care. He would never run roughshod over her, as her father had done.
“I’m not at all tired, thank you.” She sounded prim, but she could not help that. She wanted to get to work.
Shortly after, the group broke up.
Charlotte found she felt much better, having a task to perform, and a place in this family.
When her father called, Charlotte was busy in the book room. Although small, the room was furnished with everything she needed to keep the different strands of the case together. She’d stacked papers in neat piles on the large circular table and set up a sheet of paper with all the det
ails on it on a table with carefully ruled lines. Frankly, she loved that kind of work, detailed and precise, when she could sit back and see what she had done.
However, she’d never done anything this important before.
The butler knocked and stayed at the door, as she’d instructed him. “My lady, your father, the Duke of Rochfort, has called. Are you available to see him?”
So that was why he was speaking softly. She could behave like a coward and refuse to see him, but she would not, although she might in future.
But she would not see him alone. “Is anyone else at home?”
The butler nodded. “Lord Darius is abed. He was out all night, but I believe he is stirring. His valet went up to him half an hour ago.”
“I would appreciate you telling him that my father is here. Would you offer the duke refreshment, please, and let him know I’ll be in directly?” She didn’t have to ask where the butler would put him. Only the grand drawing room would do.
She gave him five minutes, taking the time to compose herself. Her father could not distress her anymore. She had been through too much recently to allow him to drag her back into his particular version of hell. Whatever happened next, she would not go back.
Darius met her outside. He reached out, but dropped his hand before he touched her. “I have news. I could not see you before. I was not fit for anyone to see me, but I would have come to you next. I’ve had Val moved from Newgate. He is now in Sir John Fielding’s private residence at Bow Street.”
She clasped her hands together. “May I see him?”
“Perhaps.” He paused. “He wants to bathe and make himself decent for you. And sleep. He hasn’t been well.” As her stomach twisted and she turned around to race up to her room and fetch her hat and gloves, he continued quickly. “He could not sleep. He needs rest. The news I gave him helped ease his mind. I am to care for you, which I intend to do anyway.”
“He is not truly ill?”
“No, merely tired and worried.”
“Very well.” Feeling heartened, she lifted her chin and nodded to the footman to throw open the doors to the drawing room.
Her father had settled on a sofa, a relief to the housekeeper who might have feared for her chairs. As it was she could swear that the delicate-seeming piece of furniture bowed under his weight. This drawing room was very different than the one she was used to. A portrait of the marquess and his wife were hung either side of the fireplace, but in the center was a painting of the family home, surrounded by carvings Val had told her were by Grinling Gibbons. The twisted ribbons and flowers in bloom were miraculously carved in wood, the motifs repeated in the plaster ceiling. Yet this was a family room. For all the treasures it contained, it had a warmth and welcome Charlotte had never felt in any of her father’s houses. Even now she felt it, reaching out to hold her in a protective circle of warmth.
The duke did not get to his feet. He nodded to Darius. “You may leave. I wish to speak to my daughter alone.”
“I am charged by her husband to remain with her.” Darius was at his grandest, every bit the son of a premier peer.
“Humph. He won’t be her husband for much longer.”
Charlotte sat in the chair by the fire. Her father’s frown deepened, but he said nothing. Probably reserving his battles. Charlotte could not remember ever sitting in his presence before. Ever, except at meals and never without his permission. Darius sat in one nearby.
The maid brought a tray of tea, and Charlotte had to go through the ritual of pouring it and handing it out. She had no desire for tea. She wanted to know what he wanted and get him out of the house. “He is my husband until I die,” she said quietly.
“When you’re a widow, you come back to me,” her father said. “I regret I cannot provide the husband for you that I chose, but there it is. You would behave stubbornly, and this is your reward. A disobedient child is anathema to me.”
“The last time I saw you, you declared you had no daughters,” she pointed out, keeping her voice sweet.
“You were too untrustworthy to be any child of mine.” He cleared his throat. “However, I would be unnatural if I left you in your time of distress. I have come to fetch you home, daughter.”
Horror filled her, making her heart quicken at the mere suggestion. “I am home.”
“Now we are on different sides of the dispute, your loyalty belongs to me.” He took a slurp of his tea and set the dish back on its saucer with a hard click. He was not pleased.
“I am naturally loyal to my husband.”
His lips firmed. “Not for long. He murdered a man. It is not the first, I believe.”
What did he mean by that?
Darius took a hand in the conversation. “Val has never killed a man before, much less murdered one. I would take care what you say, your grace.” Never had a title sounded more like an insult.
“I do, and I do not need a person like you to remind me of it. You are not here of my will, sir.”
“Nevertheless…” Darius gave a gracious wave of his hand, indicating his presence. “Sir, I am devastated to inform you that your daughter will not be returning to your house, now or at any time in the future.”
“When her husband is hanged—”
Darius held up his hand again, this time with more firmness. “He will not be hanged.” He had clearly seen Charlotte’s flinch even though she had done her best to control it. “If he is otherwise detained, which we are also not prepared to accept, he has provided handsomely for his wife.”
“I am retaining her portion. She will have nothing.”
“On the contrary, she will be a wealthy woman. She is a wealthy woman, since my brother has already settled an amount on her.”
The duke’s lip turned in a sneer. “What money does he have? He’s a wastrel. What money he has, he squanders.”
“Apart from the fortune he has made in partnership with me.” Darius shrugged.
“Pandering?”
Fury seethed brought Charlotte’s blood to boiling point. “How dare you speak of any man so?” The bitterness of years poured out. “You, with your disgusting habits? We know of your proclivities, sir, although I did not when I lived in your house. If I had, I would not have remained there. I would have lived on the streets rather than taken your abuse and your dictatorial behavior. We went in fear of your moods, sir, but no more. If you insult my husband, if you think to appear in court against him, I will tell them everything I know of your unnatural practices and your visits to the House of Correction.”
She had never seen her father shaken before. He knew what she meant, she saw it in his red-rimmed eyes, and in the way his mouth hardened. He got that look just before he was about to beat her, but the anticipatory gleam was missing. “I was right to cast you off,” he said quietly. She once trembled at that tone. “You are an ungrateful daughter. I will be leaving for my estates tonight. I will acknowledge you in public, but no more. Do you understand? You are nothing to me.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she said, alarmed at the calmness that settled over her.
Darius escorted the duke to the door and then returned to find her sitting still and calm. “You did well,” he said. “Without your father’s testimony, Kellett’s case is considerably weakened.”
Charlotte heard the words, but she was locked inside her cell once more. With that flash of temper she had felt like her old self, but the freezing barrier had descended, a curtain of stillness.
She was back with her own company, sealed in her own living tomb of solitude.
Chapter 21
The Emperors had done their work and scheduled Val’s trial for the fastest turnaround they could contrive. Ordinarily Val would have had to wait at least a month, but they had compiled his case and brought it forward several weeks to take their enemies by surprise.
Charlotte had visited him several times in the humble room John Fielding had put at his disposal. Each time he had been left in an agony of wanting her, unable to
think clearly for the haze of longing that blanketed him the minute she entered the room. Only when she had left could he make sense of what she had said.
The instinct to take her in his arms blazed through him, but he’d clenched his fists tightly by his side and showed her a smiling face when she left. She was not ready for what he wanted. He prayed that one day she would be, and that he’d be there to experience it.
The amount of work his family had done in the last week staggered him, but Charlotte’s careful accounting of the evidence did not. He knew and loved his wife’s methodical mind. She had cross-referenced every statement to the pieces of evidence that supported it. The lawyer Julius had engaged, one Andrew Graham, had built the case for him, step by logical step.
But he could still lose.
Other members of the family had been collecting gossip, discovering what the opposition was preparing, and while the Smithsons had been surprisingly closemouthed, they’d found that they had been making particular reference to his more outrageous exploits. He had no excuse for those, other than high spirits. Now they were coming back to haunt him. The time when he’d won a wager to chase a fox around Grosvenor Square at full gallop in the early hours of the morning read like foolishness now. And that was the least of the exploits. He had no idea which they would choose. He hadn’t exactly made a secret of them.
His valet prepared him for the trial. He debated the red and gold, the coat he’d worn when he’d claimed Charlotte from her father’s house, but decided he might be too blatant. Not that Mr. Fielding would care. He was as blind as a bat, and liked to emphasize the fact in court. He had stayed scrupulously away from Val during his time in the house, which was a pity, because Val would have appreciated a conversation or two with the magistrate. Not just this case, but Fielding was possessed of a fine mind, by all accounts.
How ironic that the moment Val had everything to live for, he became at greatest risk of losing his life. He had risked it recklessly many a time, but not now. He would do nothing to reduce his chances of losing Charlotte.
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