by Ella Quinn
“What about Kenilworth?” Matt asked. “We cannot simply leave him here.”
Quite frankly, Charlotte thought that was an excellent idea.
“No, my love, you are correct. I am sorry, Charlotte.” Her sister gave her a sympathetic look. “You must be seen with him.”
That was not what Charlotte wanted to hear. Then again, it was not surprising. She had seen how much time Dotty and Louisa had spent with their husbands before they married.
Charlotte had only one stipulation. “I will not be alone with him.”
“As you wish, my dear.” Grace smiled warmly as Matt’s jaw began to twitch. “It is only for another few weeks.”
“Then we may go home?” Charlotte asked, praying the answer was yes.
“Then we may go home.” Grace put her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Try not to look so down in the mouth. I have found that things always seem to work out the way they are supposed to.”
That was what Lady Bellamny had said as well. Perhaps they were right. Despite what he said, Kenilworth did not truly wish to wed her, and she would never agree to marry him. He could go back to his debauched life, and she would find a man she could love and respect. Perhaps even Lord Harrington, if he could prove he truly cared for her.
* * *
The following morning, Charlotte, Grace, Jane, Matt, and Kenilworth were not the only ones to depart. Lady Kenilworth had decided she should make the journey to Town as well. And ride in the Worthington coach.
At first, Charlotte had not minded the change in plans. Unfortunately, the moment the doors were closed, her ladyship could speak of nothing but wedding plans.
“Naturally, now that Kenilworth and your brother have spoken, the wedding announcement may be sent to the paper.” Lady Kenilworth smiled beatifically at Charlotte as if making a formal announcement of a betrothal she did not want was the best news in the world.
Biting her tongue, Charlotte decided not to remind the lady that she had no intention of going through with the marriage. It would only make the ride back to Town even more disagreeable than it was turning out to be. She wished she could have ridden or taken another vehicle. But riding a horse was out of the question and the only other conveyance was Kenilworth’s phaeton. “Naturally.”
“I suppose you will wish to wed at St. George’s.” Her ladyship inclined her head toward Jane. “I understand all your recent family weddings have taken place there.”
“I do not yet know where I wish to be married,” Charlotte replied before that idea could grow in her ladyship’s mind. Wherever her wedding took place, it would not be with Lord Kenilworth.
“I suppose we must discuss a date.” Lady Kenilworth gave Charlotte a look filled with such hope that she felt horrible for disappointing the lady.
“Um, yes. However, there is no rush. Sometime in autumn would give his lordship and me time to come to know each other better.” If she did not turn this conversation soon, she would go mad. “Where will you stay while you are in Town?”
“I wrote the Pulteney Hotel. I will remain there for a few nights while chambers at Kenilworth House can be made ready for me. I have not visited since my husband died, and it would not do for me to use my former apartments.” Her ladyship gave Charlotte a significant look while she tried not to think of the marchioness’s chambers. “I hope to host a dinner in honor of your betrothal.”
Her own polite smile tightened. “You are very kind.”
By the time they stopped to change horses, her head had begun to ache. If it was this difficult to maintain her countenance with a woman who knew her feelings on the betrothal, even if her ladyship did choose to ignore Charlotte’s objections, how much more difficult would it be to pretend to the entire world that she was happy about marrying Kenilworth?
Yet, that was what she must do. Lady Bellamny had made it very clear that no one could know about the abduction or that Charlotte had spent the night at an inn and was alone with Kenilworth in the wee hours of the morning, riding around the countryside with him. The scandal would be impossible to live down.
All Charlotte could do was pray she was much better at dissembling than she thought she was, and hope no one saw through the deception.
Chapter Eleven
The previous day, when it had become clear the scheme Con and Worthington had formed had fallen through, Con offered his friend a neatish bay mare.
From his gray gelding, he surveyed the coaches in the front of his mother’s house. “Better to ride than be stuck in a coach.”
Glancing at the carriage in question, Worthington nodded. “Much better.”
They moved to the front of the conveyance carrying his mother, Lady Worthington, Mrs. Addison, and Charlotte. A second carriage holding their dressers, and the third vehicle transporting his and Worthington’s valets had departed earlier to arrive in Town before their mistresses and masters as had his groom, who was driving Con’s curricle.
The coach was flanked by two outriders. Con didn’t believe anyone would attempt to attack them, but there was no point in tempting fate. It had not been kind to him recently.
He was about to give the order to start when his mother decided she needed an item her maid had packed, but soon they were on their way.
Yesterday afternoon when Worthington had spoken to his wife and Lady Charlotte, the conversation had not gone as he and Con planned. Shortly thereafter, Worthington had informed Con that despite their best efforts to keep Charlotte in the country, his wife had insisted it would be better to return to Town, especially as there was already talk.
If he ever saw Braxton again, Con was going to plant the man a facer.
Later, when their little group had met in the drawing room before dinner, Con’s mother had emphatically agreed. “Fight fire with fire, my son. If you and Charlotte are present, all gossip will soon fade.”
As he and Worthington cantered in front of the coach, a problem came to Con that none of the others had considered. “You do realize I have not been invited to any of the events Lady Charlotte will attend.”
“That is the least of your worries,” Worthington retorted. “News of the engagement will prompt many ladies to send you a card. Not to mention your mother, my wife, and Lady Bellamny will be spreading their version of the story during morning visits.”
No doubt dragging Charlotte around with them. Con might end up with a resigned wife, although trapped was likely a better word, and that was not good enough. Not for him.
He wanted to see the look she had given him when he’d rescued her. He wanted to sup on her soft lips and have them open to him willingly, and he damn sure did not wish to be berated for having had a mistress—an arrangement he must end at the earliest possible moment.
Blast it all to hell!
He hadn’t wanted to wed yet, but now that it was inevitable he wanted Charlotte to wish to marry him. He didn’t know another female who would have refused him. That the one lady who did was his betrothed was completely unacceptable.
He would make her understand that she was mistaken in his character, and his first step would be to convince her that high-flyers enjoyed their trade. It would, naturally, be a shock to Charlotte. After all, gently bred young ladies had been raised—for good reason—to believe conjugal relations between a man and a woman were proper only in marriage.
The primary difficulty was her knowledge of Miss Betsy’s house. He was certain Charlotte had overreacted to what she had heard. “Do you happen to know what Lady Charlotte was told about the women at Miss Betsy’s brothel?”
“Knowing Dotty Merton, more than she should have been told.” Worthington’s lips flattened into a tight line. “The situation was horrific. Ladies had been abducted and forced into prostitution either by threats of multiple rapes or drugged with opium. Their children were either murdered or sold into kid kens.”
Bloody hell! “Ladies? Are you sure?”
“Yes, ladies.” Worthington’s gaze was hard and steady. “I am only tell
ing you this because you need help with Charlotte, and you will soon be part of the family. It must go no further.” He waited until Con nodded, still unable to understand how women of his own social status could have been in a brothel. “We found them through a woman who ran a boarding house for the families of military officers who could not take their families with them overseas and whose families had nowhere else to go. The ladies who were with child were given a drink made to abort the child. Some of the women died. Their children, usually ones too young to go to school, were sold to criminal gangs.”
“Good God.” Con felt as if his breath had been sucked out of him. As if Jackson himself had landed a punch in his stomach. Of course he knew not all women in the profession wanted to be there. Still, that was better than being on the streets. Yet for ladies to have suffered in such a way was unbelievable. That Charlotte, a complete innocent, knew about it made him feel slightly ill. “I don’t understand why anyone would have . . .”
“My wife thinks it is better for ladies to know of the dangers that could befall them and others.” Worthington shrugged. “I don’t disagree. Yet I do think some of the more lurid details could have been left out of the telling.”
Con was still having difficulty understanding how gently bred women could have been used so horribly. “What happened to the ladies?”
“My cousin Merton and his wife are caring for them.” Worthington’s brows drew together. “We are still waiting for most of their husbands to return.”
“And the children?”
“Merton has hired men to find them. There’s been some success. Jemmy, for example, though we haven’t found his family yet.”
“Wait a moment.” Jemmy had said Charlotte had found him. “Why was Charlotte involved with that?”
“Dotty and Charlotte have been best friends since they were in leading strings. When Dotty decided the process was taking too long, she decided to oversee one of the raids. Naturally, Charlotte accompanied her.”
Con opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again.
Worthington’s eyes began to twinkle with mirth. “When Dotty told Merton what she was going to do, he was speechless as well. Short of locking her in her room, there was no way he could stop her. He was in the coach and they were well guarded.”
“I still do not understand how Charlotte saved the boy.”
“From what I understand, Jemmy was being taken away by one of the villains, and Charlotte shoved open the coach door into his face. He dropped Jemmy and Charlotte snatched him up. If you want more details, you’ll have to apply to her.”
That explained why she was not in a panic when Con rescued her. In fact, the only thing that seemed to overset her was him.
Still, the stuff about Miss Betsy was far and away worse than Con had thought it could be. It was no wonder Charlotte deplored men who frequented brothels. Although, the Covent Garden abbesses got the majority of the blame, and rightfully so: Without customers, those types of houses would not exist. Nevertheless, and this was a point that must be made, those poor women were not the same as the Cyprians he hired. All of his mistresses had come to him willingly. In fact, high-flyers chose their protectors more frequently than the gentleman chose the mistress. It was as different as night and day from the horrors she had been told about. That was what Charlotte must be made to understand. Con keeping a mistress was not at all the same as a man hiring a woman who had no choice.
About two hours later their cavalcade stopped to rest the horses and to partake in a light nuncheon. Con assisted his mother, then Charlotte, down the coach steps. Her countenance might well have been a mask for all the emotion she showed. And, although she didn’t shrink from his touch, she was as cold and stiff as a block of ice. To make matters worse, if that was even possible, his mother spoke of nothing but how happy she was to be welcoming Charlotte into their family and the ball she would plan in their honor. He would have to talk to his mother. There was no reason to make his betrothed more recalcitrant than she was already.
Once in the private parlor he had hired, the cat resided in Charlotte’s lap, eagerly lapping up pieces of meat and cheese. After the animal’s hunger had been satisfied, the little beast emitted a large rumbling sound as Charlotte stroked the thing and effectively withdrew from the conversation. Con wondered if he’d ever receive as much attention from her as the damned cat did.
Unable to talk to Mama about mentioning her plans, he attempted to turn the conversation whenever she opened her mouth. By the time he was back on his horse, he had the beginnings of a headache. In the past, the only time his head had hurt was from overindulgence, and his valet had a remedy that cleared his head in short order. He had a feeling this ache would not be so easily cured.
* * *
Thank God she was finally home!
Charlotte had just set her feet on the pavement when Jemmy collided with her, his thin arms wrapping around her waist. “They told me you was safe, but I had to see fer meself.”
“I am safe and well.” She patted the child on his head. “And I’m very happy to see that you arrived home unhurt. You were quite brave climbing on the coach as you did. Thank you.”
His face reddened as he looked up at her. “Weren’t nothin’.” He peered around her as if searching for something or someone. “Did the gent bring you back?”
“Ah, yes. He came back to Town with us but went to his own home.” She had never been so glad to get rid of two people in her life.
“I knew he was a good’un. Gave me more than the coach fare and hackney.” He lowered his voice. “Should I give him back the rest?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. In fact, I am positive he would want you to keep it.” She couldn’t imagine even a man such as Kenilworth would quibble over a few pennies.
Jemmy’s wide smile showed another missing tooth. Charlotte would make sure the stable master had noticed it and given the child tand-fé. After all, just because he still insisted on sleeping in the stables there was no reason he should not receive money for his tooth. They would have to move him permanently into the house soon.
“Do you think I’ll have a chance to thank him for the extra?”
“Yes, indeed.” And much too soon for her comfort. She ruffled the boy’s hair and placed a kiss on the top of his head.
The next thing she knew, Jemmy was joined by her sister, Mary, her best friend and Matt’s sister Theo, and the rest of the children. The noise level rose until Matt ordered them all inside. “You may ask your questions in the house. Go on, all of you.”
The two youngest pulled her up the steps and down the corridor into the morning room, demanding to know everything that had occurred. Trays of tea and food arrived as the children settled themselves to hear the story. Phillip, eight years old and her youngest brother, sat with Theodora, also eight, and Mary, five. Matt’s sister Madeline, age twelve, was in between the twins, Alice and Eleanor, also twelve years of age. His second eldest sister, Augusta, who was fifteen and Charlotte’s brother Walter, fourteen, took chairs on either side of Charlotte. The only one missing was their brother Charlie, Earl of Stanwood, who was attending Eton.
After a brief moment of silence the questions started, and Charlotte held up her hand to quiet them. “This will be much easier if you will allow me to tell you what happened. After that, if you have questions, you may ask them.”
Several minutes later, Augusta’s brows drew together. “I really did not think the lessons we received would be of much use. Now I shall have to start practicing in earnest.”
“What lessons?” Alice, Eleanor, and Madeline asked as one.
“Ones you will receive before you come out.” Charlotte glanced at the others. “Are there any other questions?”
Mary, sitting at Charlotte’s feet, tugged her gown. “I was scared.”
As she pulled Mary into her lap, tears filled her eyes for the second time that day.
“Me too,” Theo said, making room for herself on Charlotte’s lap.
>
“Me three.” Phillip stood next to Charlotte, placing his arm around her shoulders.
“I was, as well, but everything is fine now.” She gave them each a kiss, then set Mary and Theo down and stood. “Let me wash the dust off me and see to Collette. We will speak again later.”
As Charlotte left the room, Walter strode with her down the corridor. “I’m glad you’re safe. We were very worried about you.”
She would have drawn him into an embrace, but lately he had been eschewing them as too babyish. “Don’t tell the others, but I was terrified.”
“I won’t.”
Charlotte thought his posture became a little straighter. “I’m glad you confided in me.”
She was too. He was on his way to becoming a good man. She’d miss him when he joined Charlie at school in the autumn.
A few minutes later, she set the basket down on the floor of her bedchamber, before removing her bonnet and throwing it on the dressing table. Collette poked her head up and, after realizing she was finally home, hopped out of the basket and went behind the screen.
Finally with her family again, it was the first time Charlotte had felt completely safe in days. The thought stopped her. It was not the truth. Before she had known who Kenilworth was, she had felt safe with him. Safe enough to fall asleep against him and let him kiss her.
She yanked off her gloves, throwing them on the table. All that proved was that she had been tired and was a much worse judge of character than she’d previously thought. If only she had waited for her footman to catch up with her, or not gone at all . . . Charlotte took a large breath. There was nothing to be gained by rethinking over and over again what had happened or what she could have done to change the results. The only thing she might have any control over at all was marrying Kenilworth.
She turned her mind to the plans Lady Kenilworth and Grace had made on the way to Town. Grace’s “at home” was in three days. Between now and then, Lady Kenilworth, Grace, and Charlotte would spend the days making morning visits, presenting what her sister called a united front. By the time she and Kenilworth made their first formal appearance together, no one could possibly think anything about Charlotte’s betrothal was unusual, especially with her ladyship so ecstatic about the engagement.
