by Tamara Gill
Charlotte started at her father’s insight. Was she just experiencing wedding jitters, as some women had mentioned to her? Perhaps, yet sometimes, deep in Lord Remmick’s eyes she noted an emotion that left her fearful and uneasy. Not to mention her friend’s letter and the rumors, some of which made her blush.
Her father sighed. “You’ll see, my dear” he said standing. “Lord Remmick is a vibrant, kind, sort of gentleman. He’ll treat you well and keep you amused. Trust me,” her father said, kissing her cheek just as the library door opened.
“Ah, Lord Remmick, so glad you could join us today.”
Charlotte whirled around having been unaware that his lordship was to join them. He wasn’t a man usually swayed to venture out of the city. And yet here he was. He strolled toward them like a man without a care. And Charlotte supposed that now her dowry was only a wedding ceremony away, he didn’t have any.
Today he was dressed in a bottle green double-breasted coat and nankeen breeches, with shining black top-boots. Lord Remmick looked like a dandy who should be strolling the lawns of Hyde Park instead of her father’s library. And although not an overly tall man, his roguish charm often turned heads at balls and parties. Even Charlotte had to admit that when she’d first met him, his quick wit, carefree laugh and perfect attire had bedazzled her. Perhaps she’d imagined that look in his eye that threw shivers of dread down her spine. For the gentleman before her was all charm and finesse.
“My lord Remmick. Welcome to our home.” Charlotte curtsied. “I’m so glad you decided to join us.”
His lordship flopped himself down on to a chair and started to pull off his gloves. “Well, how could I refuse an invitation to dine with my future family? London is not so very far away. I’ll be back in the capital by tomorrow night as it is.”
“So soon?” she asked. “Perhaps you could extend your stay with us for a day or two?” Which would enable her to study him more closely, away from the ton and all its diversions. His look of horror at her suggestion put paid to her idea.
“Alas, I cannot. Apologies, Mr. King, Charlotte. But I really must be in London by tomorrow.”
“Well, that is a shame, my lord.” Her father beckoned toward the door. “The lunch gong has sounded. Shall we?”
Lunch was uneventful. Lord Remmick spoke endlessly of London life and the balls Charlotte would soon be attending with him. Night after night stretched before her, an endless parade, it seemed, of entertainments that he expected her to enjoy along with him.
Nervousness caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Although not unaccustomed to the ton and their ways, Charlotte couldn’t help feeling a little like a trophy, an ornament that had filled his pockets with coin. After a lengthy discussion on the improvements he would do to their London townhouse and his Surrey estate, Charlotte had heard enough for one day.
“If you’ll forgive me, father. But I seem to have a headache. I think I’ll lie down for a little while.”
Her mother looked up from her syllabub dessert. “Are you alright, my dear? Would you like me to order a tisane for you?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you, mama.” Charlotte stood and curtsied. “I will see you all a little later.”
“I look forward to it.”
Charlotte started at Lord Remmick’s lowered tone and piercing gaze that seemed more like a wish to devour her later than to just see her.
She walked slowly upstairs and on reaching her room, received her tisane. While her maid helped her undress, her mind turned to Lord Helsing only a few short miles away. Was he right at this moment undressing that fine, masculine body and crawling into his silk sheets to sleep away the hot afternoon? Not that she knew what type of linen he had, but one could dream.
Charlotte dismissed her maid and locked the door, not trusting Lord Remmick to adhere to the rules of no touching before marriage. And marry his lordship she would. Brought up to believe and trust in her father, she felt he would not lie to her when stating that his lordship was worthy of her hand. That he would be a kind and loving husband.
And it was a little late to worry over her choice now. She’d always been prone to acting hastily. A terrible fault which her mother had forever been trying to banish from her eldest daughter, since she was a child.
What a shame Lord Helsing hadn’t approached her the previous season. To come up to her and ask her to dance. To talk to her as they’d talked together as children. Her future could have been very different indeed, had he courted her instead. But he hadn’t and now she was promised to another. It would be wrong of her to break the understanding. She would marry Lord Remmick at the beginning of the next season and she would wish Lord Helsing happiness with whomsoever he chose.
Chapter Four
Two Years Later – Bath
Mason screwed up the letter from his cousin Amelia, Lady Furrow, and swore. He threw the missive into the fire and sat at his desk to hasten a reply. Anger thrummed through his veins that he’d been correct two years before and that his fears had been realized.
Poor, Charlotte!
“Problem?” His friend George, Lord Mountbatten asked from the settee on which he lay, his cravat untied and his hair mussed from lack of sleep.
Mason sighed and blotted the missive closed. “Yes. I’ve had a letter from my cousin with some distressing news of an old neighbor of mine. I have to return to London.”
George sat up. “When? You can’t miss Lady Lancer’s ball. Her ladyship will never forgive you.”
“It’s probably best I leave in any case. Her daughter has been making advances that I’m not reciprocating, if you get my meaning.”
His friend laughed. “I understand perfectly well…unfortunately.”
Mason stood and rang for a servant. He looked down at his friend and wondered how he could get him to leave without being rude. For weeks George had used his library as a sleeping quarter. Having arrived in Bath he had taken up residence with Mason for a short duration which had turned into a month’s long stay. “Why don’t you go up to one of the guest rooms,” he said. “You’re more than welcome to stay and not use my settee as your bed.”
“I should return to my father’s townhouse. I apologize for being a hindrance. But whenever I’m at home, mama is bothering me with the names of ladies she wishes me to meet. My head spins with the amount she says are worthy of me.”
A footman entered and Mason gave him the missive and instructions on his departure early the following morning. He would be back in the capital in a day or so and would see for himself if what Amelia had written was true.
He smiled at the thought of Charlotte and wondered if she’d changed in the years since he’d seen her last. Having married Lord Remmick he hadn’t let his mind wonder as to how she was. But now… Now he could not stay away.
Bath was beautiful, and although the society was limited, it afforded him time to make his choice. Unfortunately, he hadn’t found the woman he’d wanted to marry here, but the season was young and travelling back to London would widen the possibilities. First, though, he had to ensure Charlotte wasn’t as Amelia stated in her letters.
The thought she may be unhappy sent a chill down his spine. A woman of such beauty, inside and out, deserved only the best and he would ensure she was treated with such and nothing else.
“Who was it you said wrote to you from London?”
Pulled from his thoughts, Mason met the inquisitive gaze of his friend. “Lady Furrow, my cousin.”
“You’re up to something. I want to know what”
Mason sat on the settee across from George. “I’m not up to anything. Not yet at least. Ask me again when I see you in town.”
“You have that look about you that I haven’t seen since you were plotting the comeuppance of our old professor in Cambridge. Tell me.”
“I will tell you nothing. Now go home before your mama comes looking for you. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
George groaned. “I’m leaving” he said sitting up
and tidying his hair. “I have to pack my things.”
“What for? Where are you off to now?” Mason asked.
“London. I can’t have you having all the fun in town while I’m up here without anyone to keep me amused. Where’s the fun in that?”
Mason laughed. “For what I have planned, ‘fun’ isn’t a term I’d use.”
“Better and better.”
Mason watched as his closest friend waved and walked out the door. He stood and poured himself a brandy and watched as the flames licked at the wood. He would miss Bath and its quieter society. This home and the staff who kept the townhouse ready for him all year round. For the past two years the break from London and the ton was a welcome reprieve. But all good things must come to an end and unfortunately, his time here had as well.
London called as so too did his need to ensure that his childhood friend was safe, happy and being treated in the way all women should be treated. With respect.
Chapter Five
London
The crack across Charlotte’s jaw knocked her over and left her splayed upon the Aubusson rug. For a moment, blackness was all she could see, before the reality of what her husband, James, had done brought her back to consciousness.
She sat up and took a calming breath. Would not, no matter how many times he assaulted her, let him see her cry.
“Are you happy? See what you made me do,” he said coming over and pulling her to her feet. He sat her on the end of the bed and clasped her jaw in a punishing grip.
Charlotte swallowed her fear and helplessness. She’d married a monster, camouflaged behind a suit and top hat. She remained quiet as he inspected what his actions had done to her face.
“You’re not fit to be seen in public now. You’ll stay home and miss Lord and Lady Furrow’s ball. I’ll make your excuses.” James stood and went to stand before her dressing table mirror. Charlotte watched him fix his cravat and run a hand through his hair. To anyone else, he looked handsome, regal and in control of his life. But he was not. He was the ugliest man she had ever known. A man who could not control the disease inside of him that made him cruel and rotten to the core.
“Amelia will ask questions if I’m not there. Perhaps you should have thought of that before you struck me.”
He cast a dismissing glance and walked to the door. “She will not or I’ll smack that bitch across the face as well. Or threaten to tell her husband of our affair.”
Charlotte gasped. “You lie. Amelia would never betray Lord Furrow.”
James grinned. “Of course she wouldn’t, but he’s a jealous and doting husband. Weak when it comes to his beautiful wife. It would not take much for me to plant the seed of disloyalty and for it to fester under his skin. No matter if it were true or false.”
Charlotte watched him go, then walked over to her toilette and dampened a cloth to hold against her face. A dull ache ran through her jaw and a headache began to thump at her temples.
She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room and what she saw left her ashamed. How could her life have turned out so wrong? From the first night of her marriage to James, she’d noticed his personality change.
No longer was he attentive and loving, but indifferent and dismissive. He’d cancelled their wedding trip to the continent, stating he’d not felt up to such a lengthy journey. Instead they’d travelled to London where Charlotte was dropped off at their Grosvenor Square townhouse, while her husband took himself off elsewhere.
After that, endless nights of his drunkenness had occurred. And when she’d chastised him over his behavior and conduct he’d hit her for the very first time.
Her life had continued down that same vein. Of course, Charlotte had learnt not to say anything anymore, for fear that one day he’d strike her so hard she wouldn’t wake up.
Sometimes she wished she would not.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she swiped them away, anger replacing helplessness and shame.
“My lady, do you wish me to help you undress for bed?”
Charlotte looked up and nodded for her maid to enter. The servants had long ago learnt to live with their quick-tempered master. Like Charlotte, they stayed away from his lordship and went about their jobs, making sure they were thorough with their duties lest his lordship was displeased.
“Can you have a tisane made up for me? And bring up a cup of tea before you retire for the night.”
“Yes m’lady.”
Stripping down to her chemise, Charlotte crawled into bed and wondered what she could do to change her circumstances. Divorce wasn’t an option, but she supposed she could always just leave. But then James would win. Would in fact have everything she had brought to the marriage. All her money.
Charlotte thumped the quilt, frustration boiling in her blood. If only he would die. Then all her problems would be solved. But no matter what type of debauchery he lived in the bowels of London, he hadn’t yet angered the wrong type of people. Probably because, she mused, he was the wrong type of people.
Charlotte thanked her maid as she placed the tisane and tea on the side table. There was nothing she could do besides try and make the best of a terrible situation and hope one day James would change. She drank down the tisane then picked up her tea, taking a sip to remove the unpleasant taste.
She sighed as the sweet brew soothed her a little. Tomorrow was a new day and in three days time she was to attend Lord and Lady Venning’s soiree, an event she’d been looking forward to for quite some time.
Not because she was overly close with her ladyship but because Charlotte had found out about one particular guest who was to attend.
It was none other than her childhood friend Lord Helsing. Just the thought of seeing him after such a long time sent excitement through her veins. Would he speak to her or dismiss her? Not since their meeting at her family lake had she seen him. She could have written and kept in contact she supposed, yet whenever she tried, the fear that he would think of her as forward made her throw the letters away instead.
Charlotte finished her tea and sighed. If only she’d stood firm with her father and demanded to be released of the understanding with James, her life could have been be so different now. Not even the blessing of children to take the edge from the life she lived.
Blowing out the candle Charlotte lay down and tried to not feel sorry for herself. She had made her choice, and it had been wrong. It was as simple and unfortunate as that.
*
Lady Venning had outdone herself with her decorations for the soiree. Everywhere Charlotte looked, roses were gathered in bunches around the corners of the room and before the magnificent unlit fireplaces. The evening was warm and the scent was divine, much nicer than the smell of cigars and sweat from having too many people in a room all at once.
Charlotte looked down at her evening gown of dark blue crepe and adjusted her bodice a little. Her fingers shook and she mentally chastised herself for being nervous. Lord Helsing may not even make an appearance. And even if he did, there was no reason for him to seek her out.
After Lord Helsing had left their home that long ago summer’s day, he’d changed too. Some would say for the better, if that were at all possible. He had returned to London that following season and thrown himself into the tonnish life with abandon, before taking himself off to Bath to enjoy the small society there.
No longer was he a man who watched life go by before him. Now Lord Helsing enjoyed the ton and all its entertainments. Women spoke of him with wistfulness and affection and Charlotte wasn’t naive enough to believe that he ever spent his nights lonely.
Married women spoke of his bedroom exploits and accomplishments as if they were discussing the latest dress patterns in La Belle Assemblée. Heat travelled up her neck at the thought and she took a cooling sip of her wine.
Charlotte frowned, pondering on how she’d missed him these past two years. Lord Helsing, it seemed, was determined not to meet her in society, no matter what his words had been th
e last day they met. But he was in town and no one who was anyone turned down Lord and Lady Venning’s invitation. Lord Helsing would be no different.
Charlotte smiled and watched as Amelia strode toward her.
“Charlotte darling, I’m so glad you’re here. How are you, dearest?” she asked, giving her a pointed stare.
“I’m fine, truly. I’m sorry I missed your ball.” She clasped her best friend’s hand.
“You were missed. Your husband made his excuses for you, but I knew as soon as I realized you were not with him what he’d done. I wanted to come and check on you, but Charles wouldn’t let me. Not,” she said, meeting Charlotte’s gaze, “that he wasn’t concerned also, but because we were, after all, the hosts.”
Charlotte swallowed the lump wedged in her throat over her friend’s concern. “Thank you. But I’m better now. In fact, I haven’t seen James since he left for your ball. I hope he doesn’t arrive here tonight and make trouble.”
“He wouldn’t dare.” Amelia frowned. “Charlotte you know Charles and I would be more than willing to have you stay with us. You need to leave your husband and soon. Before he kills you with his outbursts. This is no way to live your life.”
Charlotte bit back her tears. She knew the truth of her situation and Amelia was right. One day James would hit her so hard that she’d never recover. It was only a matter of time. But should she leave, her family would be disgraced, her sisters’ prospects shattered like a pane of glass. No, she couldn’t leave her husband, even for her own sake.
“You’re so kind. And I know how much you care. But I cannot. Please, let’s not discuss this now. I’m simply enjoying the freedom of being at a soiree without James hovering over me like a cloak; please let me forget my cares for a little while.”
