Opening her mouth to do just that, she snapped her teeth smartly together when a woman’s voice rang out. A very shrill, very familiar woman’s voice. A woman’s voice who was calling them by name.
“Yoo hoo, Lady Dianna! Is that you? It is! Oh, how fun to run into you. Who is that with you? Is it… Why, Lady Charlotte! Heavens, what a wonderful surprise!”
Recognizing the voice and the woman it belonged to, Charlotte stopped dead in her tracks. “Please tell me that is not who I think it is,” she groaned.
Dianna held tight to her friend’s arm. “I wish I could, but I cannot. Step lively, now. It appears as though you will have to come up with a story to explain your marriage faster than you planned. Lady Annabeth, how do you do?” she called out politely as the woman who had (unfortunately) spotted them from across the lane hurried closer in a flurry of plum colored skirts, dragging her companion, a pale faced woman with a shock of orange hair peeking out beneath a frumpy bonnet, behind her.
The only daughter of a Viscount, Lady Annabeth Woolly was, at four and thirty, quite firmly on the shelf. While most women her age would have retired to the country to live out their spinsterish days chaperoning up and coming debutantes, Annabeth was firmly ensconced in the London social scene and, in addition to attending every ball and function she could get an invitation to, was the nosiest gossip Charlotte had ever had the displeasure to meet.
In addition to repeating and twisting every succulent piece of news she heard, she was also a vain woman who was known for her over the top dresses that boasted enough bows and gaudy lace to easily clothe two women besides herself. With the high fashion of the Georgian Era long past and simple, subdued dresses currently on trend she stuck out like a sore thumb wherever. Charlotte rather thought she preferred it that way.
“How are you?” Annabeth trilled. The long ostrich feather she had secured in the middle of her towering pile of brown curls bobbed and weaved as she talked. “This is my dear friend Miss Claire Greene recently of North Wales. I have been investigating my family tree, you know, and Miss Claire is a fourth cousin of mine! Isn’t that delightful?” She wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulders and pulled her tight against her sizable bosom. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”
Charlotte saw absolutely nothing in common between the shy, doe eyed Claire and the full faced, ruddy cheeked Annabeth but she managed a short, clipped nod nevertheless. “Yes, quite similar.”
“Claire, this is Lady Dianna Foxcroft who lives right on the other side of the park, and her dear friend Lady Charlotte Vanderley who has been… Well, wouldn’t you know, I have no idea where she has been.” All fluttering eyelashes and feigned innocence, Annabeth said, “Would you care to enlighten us, darling?”
Charlotte could have easily given a hundred excuses for her absence. She was visiting family. She went to a spa retreat on the coast. She was kidnapped by bandits. Any excuse would have been better than revealing what had really happened to Annabeth, of all people, but some small sport of her – the devilish part, no doubt – wanted to see the older woman’s expression when she learned the truth.
“My surname is actually no longer Vanderley.”
“Oh no?” Annabeth breathed, all but licking her lips as if she could taste the tantalizing bit of news Charlotte was about to divulge. “Pray tell, what is it now?”
Dianna reached out with the heel of her walking shoe to discreetly stomp of Charlotte’s toes beneath the hem of her dress, a silent warning that Charlotte resolutely ignored. “Mrs. Graystone. I was married, you see. In Scotland. That is where I have been.”
Annabeth staggered back a step. “No,” she gasped, her eyes widening with equal parts excitement and horror. Claire, looking far less interested, wandered over to a nearby bench and sat down. “Married, you say? But… do forgive me, my dear, were you not betrothed to the Duke of Tarrow?”
“Their engagement was announced prematurely,” Dianna interceded.
Their was a crafty gleam in Annabeth’s eyes that Charlotte took an instant dislike to, and she knew the renowned gossip would not be satisfied until she had an interesting story to tell anyone and everyone who would listen. Pasting a smile on her face, she pulled off her glove for the second time and held out her hand, showing off the band on her ring finger.
“It is quite simple,” Annabeth observed as she leaned closer. “Although I know how some women admire that style so. It would be much too small and plain for my tastes, but then again, it’s not my ring, is it?”
It took every inch of control Charlotte possessed – not to mention Dianna’s restraining grip on her arm – not to curl her hand into a fist and punch Annabeth right in the middle of her big ugly nose. “The ring is a family heirloom,” she said tightly. “It belonged to Gavin’s great-great-great grandfather.” It was far more likely the ring had been picked up at a two bit pawn shop, but since Gavin had never actually told her where he got it, she saw nothing wrong with a bit of improvisation.
“Gavin, you said?” Annabeth’s head lifted. “Gavin Graystone? Surely you do not mean to tell me you married Gavin Graystone. He… He is… Well,” she said, for once in her life genuinely appearing at a loss for words, “I do not suppose I have to tell you what he is. Gavin Graystone,” she muttered as her forehead creased. “Heavens. What is the world coming to?”
“He is a wonderful husband,” Charlotte said through gritted teeth. “And easily worth ten dukes you meddling, pompous—”
“What my dear friend is trying to say,” Dianna interrupted hastily, “is that from the first moment they met at – was it the Haversham’s ball?”
Charlotte took a deep breath and nodded.
“That is what I thought. A ball, coincidentally enough, that Mr. Graystone was invited to given his recent, ah, financial success. From the first moment their eyes met across the room it was love at first sight,” she declared dramatically. “It is quite romantic, now that I think about it. Almost like a modern day fairytale.”
It had been rather romantic, Charlotte supposed, even though her first meeting with Gavin had not occurred anything like Dianna said. It made for a good story, however, and helped explain why a lady would leave a duke to marry a commoner.
Love was still the universal language that spread across all social classes, and even the most hardened, cynical hearts inside of the ton could not ignore its existence.
But like a scruffy haired terrier with a very tasty bone, Annabeth refused to give up without a fight. She was out for blood and would settle for nothing less. “I truly thought you were engaged when you attended the ball, darling. Wasn’t the announcement printed in the papers just that morning? I remember, of course, because I was so very happy for you!”
“I bet you were,” Charlotte growled.
Another stomp on her toes, this one hard enough to make her wince.
“Dearest Lady Annabeth, as I said before the engagement was declared prematurely. The duke was a bit over enthusiastic in his wooing of Charlotte and assumed she would accept his offer of marriage before asking her,” Dianna explained with the sweetest of smiles.
That, at least, was the truth.
Bettina and Crane signed the engagement contracts and approved the printing of the announcement without speaking a word to Charlotte; a betrayal she was still bitter over. Not towards the duke, of course. The man was a snake in the grass and could not help himself. Any ill feelings – any feelings at all – would be wasted on him, as he was no longer her concern and unlikely to ever change his evil ways. But as for her mother… Suffice it to say she had a few choice words in store, and not all of them were going to be ‘I am sorry’.
“I am sure you of all women know how men can be when dazzled by a pretty face,” Dianna went on, adding enough sugar to her tone to have Annabeth blushing.
“Indeed I do,” the spinster declared. “Indeed I do. Well, it was lovely seeing you, Lady Dianna and you, Mrs. Graystone.” Her eyes lit up. “I shall have to call once you are settled in.
Yes, I do believe I shall.”
“I would enjoy that immensely,” Charlotte lied.
“I do hope we can count on your discretion, Lady Annabeth.” Glancing side to side as though eavesdroppers lurked in the bushes, Dianna whispered, “Charlotte would prefer to keep her marriage a secret until she is able to speak to the duke directly to explain her change of heart. Dear man that he is, she would never want to cause him undue harm and embarrassment.”
Charlotte almost choked. The Duke of Tarrow? A dear? She knew poisonous vipers that were sweeter. She wondered what point Dianna was trying to make now, but since her friend had done such a wonderful job so far at spinning straw into gold she held her tongue and even managed to twist her lips into something that vaguely resembled a smile.
Annabeth pressed a hand over her heart. The half dozen rings she wore glittered in the sun, each one brighter and gaudier than the last. “I swear on my mother’s life I shall not breathe a word of this to anyone. Your secret is safe with me,” she said solemnly.
“How kind of you,” Charlotte managed.
She and Dianna waited with identical smiles on their faces for Annabeth to collect her poor cousin as if she were a bit of baggage and flounce off down the lane, chattering nonstop the entire way. The moment she was out of earshot Charlotte expelled her breath in a loud, gusty sigh and rolled her eyes.
“What a horrible, horrible woman.”
“She is horrible,” Dianna agreed. “But it is rather fortunate we ran into her.”
“Are you ill? And what was all that nonsense you were waxing about my speaking to the duke directly? I have no intention of ever getting within a mile of that man again. Two, if I can help it.”
“If you had not opened your big mouth and told her about the marriage in the first place I wouldn’t have had to say anything,” Dianna countered. “And I know you hate the duke, but to the rest of the ton he was your fiancée.” She began to walk, and Charlotte followed suit. “You can either come out of this appearing as a woman who carelessly broke off her engagement with one man – one very powerful, influential man – only to marry a nobody—”
Charlotte scowled. “Gavin is not a nobody.” She may have been angry at him, but that certainly did not give others leave to speak poorly of him, not even her best friend.
“Yes, yes, once again I know that, but it is not me we are trying to convince, is it? As I was saying, you could be that woman, or you could be the woman who fell in love at first sight and, even though it pained her terribly, ended her courtship to an over zealous suitor in favor of marrying her one true love. Since we were able to convince Lady Annabeth of the latter, that is the version of events the ton will hear first. You will be seen as a romantic heroine and Gavin your handsome, albeit unconventional hero.”
Charlotte mulled it over. “But you swore Annabeth to secrecy.”
“And she swore on her mother’s life. A mother, by the way, who has been dead for nearly three years now.”
“You should be a politician,” Charlotte said, shaking her head in amazement and no small amount of admiration.
“Quite true,” Dianna said without a hint of modesty. “Unfortunately, I fear that would not go over well in the House of Lords. Could you imagine if I showed up and demanded a seat?” Her lips curved. “They would laugh themselves silly.”
They would indeed, but that was a battle Charlotte would have to leave for another day. For now she needed to ensure her reintroduction into Society as the new Mrs. Graystone went smoothly and without angst, for Gavin would have little need for a wife who was shunned by the ton.
They thought of him as an odd duck, but an odd duck they accepted because of his wealth and the connections he had forged. Gavin needed those connections to keep his wealth, and his wealth to keep his connections. Without one the other suffered dearly, and there was no doubt in Charlotte’s mind that if she came to threaten either he would cast her aside as quickly as though she were an old shoe.
She should have thought of the repercussions that could form due to their hasty marriage before they ever left for Scotland, but she had been so desperate to escape the duke’s clutches that little else seemed important. Now she found herself in a fine mess of things and were it not for Dianna and her quick mind all hope would be lost entirely instead of dangling by a very thin thread. A thread that was, ironically enough, being held between the pudgy fingers of Lady Annabeth.
“Do you think it will work?”
“It will,” Dianna said confidently. “I am sure of it.”
Charlotte wished she felt the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Four Weeks Later
It worked.
Courtesy of Annabeth’s penchant for spreading gossip, news of Charlotte and Gavin’s wedding spread like wildfire through the ton.
Courtesy of Dianna’s creative spin on the truth, everyone believed the newlyweds were madly in love and Charlotte was not only forgiven, she was commended, albeit quietly and when no one thought they were being overheard. After all, love in itself was not a traditionally acceptable reason to marry, but it carried with it a romanticism that all women, no matter their age or social standing, dreamed of one day finding for themselves.
There was also a sense of intrigue and excitement that went with a lady wedding a commoner. A commoner who was accumulating wealth hand over fist even as England’s most prestigious families were losing their fortunes by the day.
Changes were in the air. The old ways were fading to make way for the new, and many were whispering Charlotte was only the first to find her husband outside of the peerage.
Oh, there were some who touted it as the largest scandal to hit London since Lady May was found with Lord Thatcher in the drawing room with her skirts up around her ears, but they were few and far between and quickly shushed when they raised their voices in opposition against the ton’s newest darlings.
Invitations poured in, each one more exclusive than the last, and Gavin was what he had always wanted to be: accepted by his peers. Their lives should have been perfect, and to some degree they were, with one glaring exception…
They treated each other like strangers.
Oh, they were polite. Painfully so, to Charlotte’s mind, but when it came down to it they exchanged less than a dozen words per day. Gavin kept busy with work, while she divided her time between visiting Dianna and gardening. The only time they behaved as a true husband and wife was when they were under the scrutiny of the ton.
Charlotte lived for those moments when she could hold Gavin’s arm when they walked into a ballroom, sit beside him in an opera box, or simply gaze upon him without having to disguise her affection. The few times she caught him staring at her in a similar fashion only made her feel worse instead of better, however, for while she knew her love for him was unfading, she feared any signs of adoration he displayed in her was feigned for those around them.
As the days became weeks Charlotte drew further and further into herself and Gavin, obsessed with his work, drew further and further away. She grew terrified the invisible wall that had come to exist between them was unbreakable; the stone too hard for even the heaviest hammer to crack.
The only sliver of light in an otherwise dark and dreary world was the knowledge that Gavin was not finding solace in the arms of another woman.
Every evening, like clockwork, he returned home at half past six. He changed for dinner, ate across from her without looking up from his newspaper, and went to bed, alone, after pressing a chaste kiss to her temple and wishing her an emotionless goodnight.
She quickly came to hate those kisses. She also hated all of the pretending. Pretending she did not secretly yearn for her husband every second of every day. Pretending his cool aloofness did not cut her to the bone. Pretending things would get better in time.
She did not want to feel this way, and at least now she knew why Gavin was so adamantly opposed to love. When you loved someone it tore a hole in your heart. If they loved you in return
the hole was filled, but if they didn’t it was nothing more than a gaping, bloody wound.
Charlotte found herself bleeding all the time.
The only thing that served to distract her from thinking about Gavin were her visits with Dianna. Today her dear friend had come to call on her at Shire House to divulge all of the delicious rumors that had sprung up since the last time they saw each other.
“Did you hear where you spent your honeymoon?” Nipping into a pastry, Dianna brushed crumbs from the lap of her yellow muslin dress and grinned ear to ear when Charlotte shook her head. “The coast of France, bathing in the healing waters of the Golfe du Lion.”
Releasing an unladylike snort of laughter, Charlotte stood up to refresh their drinks. A light breeze played through her hair and she tucked a stray curl absently behind one ear as she went to the edge of the freshly stoned courtyard to fetch a large pitcher of lemonade.
With renovations continuing inside the house, she had taken to spending most of her time outside, tucked away from the noise and Dobson’s never ending glares.
For whatever reason the butler had taken an instant dislike to her. No, not dislike. Hate was a better term. There was hate in his dark eyes whenever she caught him staring at her. An oily, venomous kind of hate that had poisoned the rest of the staff against her. Oh, they certainly hopped to when Gavin was about. But when he was away – which was the majority of the time – both she and Tabitha were outright ignored. It made running an effective household impossible, which was why, weather permitting, she remained outside.
Amidst the towering oak trees and overgrown gardens behind the estate no one bothered her, not even Dobson. She could have reported his insubordinate behavior to Gavin, of course. Dianna and Tabitha had urged to do just that on more than one occasion, but she was hesitant. After all, one of the reasons Gavin had married her was so she could manage the day to day affairs of Shire House and telling him of Dobson’s blatant disrespect would be the same as admitting failure.
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