It was the easiest thing for the woman to latch onto in their jealousy, Charlene knew. It was the thing that made her most different from the rest of them.
They whispered about how she must be a witch, and how all of her lotions had only had power because she used her magic to make them effective.
But they whispered worse things than that now, too. They whispered about how other ailments she hadn’t cured were curses from her.
Miss Jane claimed her lank hair was due to a cursed wash that Charlene had given her. Miss Mary complained about her acne which had never cleared up, claiming it had gotten worse since she had trusted one of Charlene’s powders. And there were plenty more.
She wondered what Lord Ambrose had made of all the rumors. She only hoped that his deal was still on the table.
Perhaps he wouldn’t want a wife who brought quite so much drama. Perhaps he wouldn’t want to be known as the one who married the witch.
What if he told her that he was no longer interested? Or worse, what if he accepted her engagement but still let her father hang?
To end up without her father and married to that horrible man just wasn’t an option. Although at least it would solve the question of what she and her aunt were to do about money.
Yet again as she went down to find her aunt and ask her to accompany her to the Marquess’ home, someone arrived at the front door. This time, it was a messenger for her aunt, but Charlene followed her aunt into the sitting room, watching as she opened the official message.
Her eyebrows flew towards her hairline in surprise. “Your father’s trial has been put off,” she told Charlene.
“Put off?” Charlene asked, stepping closer so that she could read the message as well. Yes, the trial had been put off. It would no longer happen the following day. They had more time.
Hope surged through Charlene. How could the trial have been pushed to another day? Had Eric had something to do with it? She wondered if that meant that he had started to find some sort of concrete evidence against Harvey Parsons.
She wished that she could rush straight over there to talk to him, but she knew that her aunt would never allow that. Besides, she had caused quite enough of a stir with her two previous visits. Best to let Eric sort things out on his own and send her a message when he found something out.
There was another knock on the door, and Lord Ambrose himself was shown into the room. His lips thinned when he saw the message in Helene’s hand. “I see that you’ve heard about the trial,” he said.
“We have,” Helene said, inclining her head towards the Marquess. “And we are very grateful that you have convinced the judge to allow us a little more time for my niece to make up her mind about your proposal.”
“I had nothing to do with it. The order came from the top of the chain,” the Marquess said. He turned towards Charlene. “I suspect that it was the same duke who carried you to see your father. I don’t know what he thinks to gain by meddling in this situation, but you should advise him that he ought not to.”
“He is simply trying to help. To make sure that justice is done,” Charlene told the investigator. “Anyway, if he had anything to do with the trial being put off, I don’t know about it. He and I haven’t talked since the scandal.”
Lord Ambrose looked as though he didn’t fully believe her. He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, the scandal,” he said. “I hope you realize how lucky you are that I didn’t rescind my offer in light of the things that I have heard about you.”
Charlene ducked her head, her cheeks flaming. Next to her, Helene made a noise in the back of her throat, but she didn’t speak.
“As it is,” the Marquess continued, “I cannot be made a cuckold. Tell Lord Eric that he is to stay out of my business.”
“I have no control over what the man does,” Charlene protested. “He is helping of his own accord because my father saved his life once when the duke was a boy.”
She could see that Lord Ambrose was beginning to get angry, but Charlene refused to back down. If Eric thought that he could find the evidence that would free her father, then she wished for him to do so. She wanted her father’s name cleared, if he was to be freed. She wanted there to be undisputable proof that he was not the man that everyone was whispering that he was.
She knew in her heart that her father wasn’t a murderer. She wanted everyone else to know that as well.
Lord Ambrose narrowed his eyes at Charlene. “Then perhaps I should rescind my offer to marry you. As I said before, I will not be made a cuckold. I can see that everyone was right when they said you were nothing more than a…” He trailed off, looking over at Helene as though he didn’t want to say what he really felt in front of her.
His meaning was perfectly clear, however. He was acting as though he was doing her some great favor in marrying her. And she didn’t even want to marry the man in the first place, especially not in these circumstances.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was tempted to remind him that he didn’t have the most sterling reputation himself. Or perhaps to remind him that he hadn’t even dared to propose to her until he had some way of blackmailing her into agreeing to the match.
He hadn’t even asked her the proper way! He had waited until she was alone in the foyer. No courting, no chaperone. It wasn’t the way that things were meant to be done, but now suddenly he was acting as though she was the only one with scandal hanging over her head?
After everything else that she had heard about herself around town, after all of those whispers (none of which were true), she finally snapped. “Lord Ambrose, you don’t need to rescind your proposal,” she said coolly. “I never would have accepted anyway. I have no wish to marry a bully such as yourself.”
She heard Helene’s shocked gasp from behind her, but she knew that it was already too late. No amount of sweet talking or acting shy was going to convince the Marquess to marry her now. Which meant that her father could be well and truly doomed.
She felt tears prick her eyes at that thought, but she refused to let them show. She wouldn’t let Lord Ambrose know just how scared she truly was.
Let him think that she had full confidence in Eric’s ability to find the real evidence that they needed to prove the doctor’s innocence. In any case, at least there was an extension to the trial. If Lord Ambrose were heading to the trial on the morrow as had been the original plan, she had no doubt that her father would hang.
As it was, Lord Ambrose was sneering at her. “Honestly, what a child you are! With such a hefty scandal hanging over your name, are you really stupid enough to refuse the one speck of redemption that you can get? Or are you so heartless that you would condemn your father to his death?”
Charlene wanted to duck her head in shame, but she knew that Lord Ambrose would see it as a sign of weakness. Instead, she met his gaze, challenging him with her eyes to be the one to look away first. She felt some small sense of satisfaction when he finally did, making a noise of disgust.
“I’m willing to treat this episode as a bout of temporary insanity brought on by stress,” the Marquess told her frostily. “I know how emotional women can get. My first wife was much prone to such fits.”
His eyes slid over to Helene. “Of course, out of graciousness to you, Lady Helene, I’ll give her one more week to change her mind regarding my proposal. I’m sure you can make her see sense.” He paused, looking back over to Charlene.
“Otherwise, your father will hang, whatever the Duke of Havenport might have to say about it. No favors will let a man off with murder when the evidence is strong against him. Perhaps you ought to remind the duke that if he frees a despicable murderer, it will go badly for him.”
With those final words, he strode out, shutting the door more firmly than necessary behind him. Helene stood there for a moment and then left the room as well, with not a single word for her niece.
Charlene sank to the floor, all her anger and fear and sadness going out of her, leaving her curiously numb. S
he had to hope that Eric would find the proof that they so desperately needed. He just had to make things okay.
Chapter 21
Lord Ambrose DuBois Johnson, Marquess of Wesborough
Lord Ambrose was fuming as he left Miss Ellington’s home. How dare she! She had acted as though leaving her father to die would be preferable to accepting his proposal. He ought to have known better than to make her such a grand offer in the first place. She had proven herself to be every bit as woefully stupid as everyone had always thought she was.
She was too wilful and too proud. Both traits that were unseemly in a young woman.
Of course, Ambrose knew that if she were to become his wife, he would train those qualities right out of her. There were certainly ways of doing that. Oh, he would need to be a little more careful with her than with his previous wife. But breaking a woman was just the same as breaking a horse.
And Ambrose excelled at horsemanship.
Truth to tell, Ambrose had never intended to take another wife. He had grown tired of the previous one’s tears and constant presence in his home. He had other ways of having his needs taken care of, and they didn’t involve an exchange of jewelry and vows.
Nor did he particularly desire Charlene. Oh, the woman was comely enough. And all that really mattered was what was between her legs. In spite of all of the rumors, Ambrose had a feeling that the woman was likely untouched by any man.
That was why he wanted her.
It wasn’t the purity of her pussy that he coveted, except for the fact that he knew someone else coveted her ladyhood more than he. Lord Cumberland had made no secret of the fact that he fancied her. Why else would he be so involved in helping her to clear her father’s name?
Ambrose had no idea what the other man really saw in Charlene, but that mattered little to him. All he could think of was taking Charlene away from the man. Of going where the other man would not have dared.
He wondered if Charlene had told the duke about his proposal. He supposed that she probably had, in one of those terribly improper meetings that the two of them seemed to keep having. She was the talk of the town at the moment. No one seemed to have a single good thing to say about the woman.
That mattered little to him. It would only make victory all the more sweet when it was his. When he could display his newly-docile wife to society, they would realize what a man he truly was.
He smiled at the very thought of that.
For now, though, he had to content himself with mere thoughts of the future with his bride. She seemed set on not marrying him. Of course, it all went back to her continued foolishness. In the face of all evidence, she seemed certain that her father must somehow be innocent. But the truth was right there in writing: Dr. Ellington had murdered Lord Henrich. There was no denying it.
There was a reason why women didn’t hold the power of the law in their hands. The only thing more feeble than their hands was their minds.
He wondered if he had taken the wrong approach with Charlene. Perhaps he should have attempted to woo her first. Women seemed to want the illusion of romance. He couldn’t say that he understood why.
He shook his head. He wasn’t the type of courting man who sent flowers and recited poetry. He wasn’t going to tell Charlene that she was his heart’s desire. She wasn’t, not really. He merely wanted to keep her away from the Duke.
His anger at her blunt refusal mixed with the residual anger that he had always felt for Lord Eric. Now there was a boy who had been raised soft. Ambrose hadn’t believed that anyone could ever be softer than the former Duke of Havenport, and yet his son certainly gave him a run for his money.
Ambrose remembered a visit to the Duke’s palace a long time ago. Every room looked like something out of a bower. The duke called it his ‘pleasure palace’. It was despicable.
The Marquess, on the other hand, had always favored his father’s and grandfather’s taste in furnishings. That meant hunting trophies, heavy tapestries to keep out the chill, and thick rugs on the floor. Furniture that was scarred with age, as his body bore the scars of battle.
He despised the boy who had followed in his father’s steps. Eric had already proven himself just as feeble a duke as his father had before him. It made Ambrose want to march onto his lands with an army and take it over. He doubted there would be much resistance, even from the ton.
But it all started with the conquest of the thing that Eric wanted most but knew that he couldn’t have. How would it feel for him to have to watch the Marquess with his lovely little crush? Ambrose couldn’t wait to find out.
Because Charlene would accede to his proposal eventually. She still apparently held out hope that Eric would come through and prove her father’s innocence. But that was only because she thought that they had more time. It was clear to Ambrose that the duke wasn’t ready to lay out his evidence yet.
If he could get the postponement of the trial revoked, then Eric wouldn’t have enough time to build his case. Then Miss Ellington’s only hope would be to marry him, Ambrose. Not to mention the fact that it would likely annoy Eric to no end that the Marquess had been able to convince the judge to listen to him, rather than to the duke.
Ambrose smiled slyly. Yes, that was how he would do it. Go to the judge now and remind him that the Duke had no place in this case. That they were only brewing more anger in the streets, and that soon there would no doubt be riots and violence.
The whole city of London was in danger of chaos and terror, and the judge would need to do anything in his power to stop it. That meant hanging Dr. Ellington now.
It would work, he was sure. And what’s more, hanging the doctor would be a good first lesson for his new bride, after Charlene turned to him in terror of the fact that the trial would actually be happening so soon. Yes, that was the perfect plan.
He whistled to himself as he headed to the judge’s house.
Chapter 22
Lord Eric Cumberland, Duke of Havenport
Eric slammed his hand down on his desk hard enough to make the various objects on the dark wood rattle. The man across from him flinched, even though he knew that Eric’s frustration wasn’t directed at him.
They had been so close. They had practically had Harvey Parsons. He had been lying in hiding not all that far from London. Eric had sent men to get him, stressing how important the secrecy of their mission was.
He hadn’t found anything that would directly link Harvey Parsons to Lord Henrich’s death yet, but he was sure that if he could but talk to the man, the connection would become clear. He was certain that the man had been the one to actually do what Dr. Ellington was accused of. He just needed to know why.
At least the doctor’s trial had been postponed for the time being, although Eric wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to hold it off for. The judge had finally been amenable when Eric explained to him that he was certain he had the real perpetrator and that it would only take him some more time to have the man in London and ready for the trial.
The judge had seemed skeptical, and Eric had no doubt that the Marquess had already hinted to him about the copious amounts of evidence against Dr. Ellington. But finally, he had agreed. Eric’s position, and the sizeable bribe that he paid, saw to that.
The trouble was that the Marquess had then decided to contest his hold on the trial, reminding the judge that he was the primary investigator and that Eric didn’t have any right to hold the trial.
Eric was sure there was more to it as well. The judge would have waved off any petty squabble the Marquess brought to him about positions and such. No, likely the Marquess had reminded the judge that there was more and more resentment against Lord Henrich’s murderer every day and that it was in the interest of safety for the trial to go off speedily.
Of course, Eric’s argument was that sending the wrong man to the gallows would eventually make a martyr of the man and fools of those who convicted him. If he could gather the evidence that Dr. Ellington hadn’t been the one t
o commit the crime.
He was worried now that he wouldn’t have another chance to get Harvey into his custody. If the man realized that people were after him, he would go even deeper into hiding. Eric might never find him again.
But failure wasn’t an option. He wasn’t going to allow Charlene to end up with the Marquess as a husband. That wasn’t an option.
He simply wished that he had been able to sort all of this trouble out sooner, rather than leave Charlene in agony and distress.
That dastardly investigator. If he would but do his job the proper way, then Eric wouldn’t be straining himself trying to apprehend Parsons. He wondered whether Lord Ambrose had even attempted to find Dr. Ellington innocent or if it had been too convenient for him to just heap as much evidence against the doctor as he could.
He couldn’t believe that the man was so dead-set on marrying Charlene. Not that he didn’t think that the woman was worthy of his attention, but from everything that Eric had heard, there were other ways that the Marquess had grown accustomed to occupying himself.
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