by Tamara Gill
Amelia kissed her cheek. “Of course, darling. Whatever you wish, I’m just concerned for your wellbeing, that’s all.”
Charlotte smiled. “I know you are. Now, tell me,” she said, changing the subject. “How are you feeling? Are the mornings still the worst for you?”
“Yes,” Amelia said, placing her hand discreetly on her belly, as if to guard the little life that grew inside. “The mornings are terrible. Thank goodness I’m well enough in the evenings to attend the season’s entertainments. I don’t know how I’d survive otherwise.”
Charlotte smiled while a pang of envy shot through her. Not once in the two years she’d been married had she bore a living child. It was another reason why James abhorred her. In his eyes, she was a barren, useless piece of common baggage that he should never have married.
When Charlotte had reminded him her common class had saved his estate and him against his debtors, she’d paid for it by being bedridden for a week. The belting he’d inflicted had been one of the worst she’d ever had. And she’d learnt to curb her tongue from that point onwards. As much as doing so irked her greatly.
“Charlotte are you well?”
She started out of her musings and smiled. “Of course, just lost in thought, that’s all. What were you saying?”
“Only that Lord Helsing has arrived. And that he’s looking directly at you.”
Charlotte looked up and locked eyes with Mason immediately. It was almost as if an invisible line connected them across the sea of heads. She smiled and watched as he nodded in greeting before moving off to join another party his side of the room.
“He’s as handsome as ever. Why did you never tell me you were neighbors as children? I had to find out about it by Lady Sisily.”
Charlotte started at the question having never thought to tell Amelia of their childhood friendship. It was bad enough just to think about Mason and the silly passion she’d once held for him.
“I’m sorry, Amelia. I suppose it slipped my mind. It’s been, after all, two years since I saw him last.”
Amelia cast her a speculative look, then turned her attention back to the throng. “Well, I suppose you’ll be able to catch up tonight. And without Lord Remmick here, I’m sure you’ll be able to relax a little and enjoy your reunion.”
Charlotte swallowed. It was silly really to be nervous about talking to Lord Helsing again. Granted, they hadn’t been close for many years, but after that one day near the lake, everything had changed for Charlotte. He’d been kind and attentive like the old days, something that she longed for her husband to be now. Not that he ever would be.
She caught sight of his lordship strolling through the throng before he asked a young debutante with doe eyes to dance. A pang of jealousy shot through her and Charlotte chastised herself. She was married and he was not. Of course, he could dance with whomsoever he wished.
She watched as he waltzed about the room with the beautiful, young woman, his grace and ease obvious to any who observed. Lord Helsing seemed much broader across the shoulders and his hair was a little less tidy, and yet, to Charlotte, he was the handsomest man present.
“Perhaps it is best that you stop your inspection of Lord Helsing, dearest as your husband just stumbled through the door.”
Charlotte watched in horror as James staggered into the room, needing the wall and a few guests for support. His cravat hung about his neck and his shirt gaped open at his throat. He looked sweaty and not at all well. People gasped and moved out of his way as James looked about the room.
For her.
Charlotte stepped away from Amelia and started to walk toward him, thankful the minstrels continued to play and people danced. He stood upright as she came to his side.
“I’m so pleased to see you, dear James.” She smiled to hide her distaste. “Amelia and I are over the other side of the room. Come and sit with us there.”
He gave her a dismissing look and pulled his arm from her hand. Charlotte let him go and followed as he swayed toward her friend. Embarrassment threatened to choke her. It felt as if everyone watched the spectacle that was their marriage. A prickling of heat suffused her cheeks and Charlotte lifted her chin, not willing to cower under the collective mocking and curious gazes.
James flopped into a chair and sprawled like a man who was about to go to sleep. Charlotte sat beside him, summoning a footman for some water.
“James, you need to sit up. You’re at Lord Venning’s home and you know how he detests drunkenness and rowdy behavior.”
“Bite your tongue, woman. Who are you, a commoner, to tell a Viscount how to behave?”
Amelia sat beside James and smiled. “She has every right, as your Viscountess. Furthermore, your sickly pallor and untidy attire is hardly appropriate for polite society. You ought to be ashamed of yourself embarrassing your wife in such a way, Lord Remmick.” Amelia stood. “I will seek you out later, my dear.”
Charlotte nodded and waited for James’s temper to take hold. Amelia had every right to hate him, why she hated him too now. There was no affection left in their marriage. James had extinguished that the first time he hit her.
“How dare that bitch speak to me so? I ought to–”
“Remember where you are, James.” Charlotte handed him a drink. “Sit up and drink this and try and look the gentleman. You do know your cravat is untied?” Charlotte smiled at two passing matrons and tried not to imagine what they must be thinking.
James looked down at his shirt and laughed. “Well, I’ll be. Seems I didn’t tie it up after. Well, let me just say she had the longest legs, wrapped them nicely about my hips while I gave it to her up against a deserted lane’s wall.” He smirked and met Charlotte’s gaze. “You don’t mind do you, my lady. Since you no longer spread your legs for me, I have to find my enjoyment elsewhere.”
Charlotte shuddered and looked about to ensure no one was within hearing range. “What you do in your spare time is no concern of mine, but you must, when appearing at social events, at least look like the Viscount you were born to be.”
“She was a ripe beauty as well. New to London from up north somewhere. With just one touch I was able to make her as wet as the Thames between her legs. The sweetest woman I’ve tasted in an age. Would you like to kiss me and find out, my dear?”
“You’re a vile, piece of human flesh and I’m ashamed to call you my husband.”
James clasped her jaw and Charlotte stilled before he gathered his wits and sat back laughing. “You’ll pay for that later.”
Tears threatened and Charlotte bit the inside of her lip. Hard. Why wouldn’t he just leave? Go back to the cesspit he was so fond of in the East end of town and let her be?
Chapter Six
Mason watched Charlotte and Lord Remmick argue from across the room and the blood in his veins ran cold when he saw his lordship clasp Charlotte’s delicate jaw as if to hurt her in some way.
He nodded but did not comment on the conversation going on around him, while he waited to see what Lord Remmick would do next. So the rumors were true. Charlotte was in a marriage of the worst kind. If Lord Remmick was willing to grab his wife in public, one shuddered to think of what the man could do behind closed doors.
A simmering anger boiled in his blood at the thought of his childhood friend Charlotte, this beautiful woman she had grown into, being a punching bag for her husband’s woes and disappointments.
It was not to be borne.
Mason downed the last of his brandy and strolled toward Charlotte and her husband. He couldn’t help but smile when she stood, her large eyes full of welcome and also, he noted, apprehension.
He bowed. “Good evening, Lord and Lady Remmick. It has been a long time.”
Charlotte curtsied. “Good evening, Lord Helsing. Indeed it has been a long time. Too long in fact.”
Mason looked at Lord Remmick and waited for him to stand and acknowledge him. With a sigh of annoyance, he did so, swaying before Charlotte clasped his arm to keep him from f
alling over.
“Lord Helsing. We are honored by your presence. Why, I do believe the last time I saw you, you were quite put out.” Lord Remmick laughed and splashed some of his water over his shirt. Not that it made any difference, as his lordship’s shirt was already marred with stains of suspicious origins.
Mason cast Lord Remmick a dismissive glance and turned his attention back to Charlotte. She was as beautiful as he remembered her and yet something about her had changed. No longer did she seem as carefree and at ease as she once had. The spark that had glowed in her eyes was no longer there. No doubt, due to the fiend she’d married.
“Would you care to dance, my lady? There is to be a cotillion next.”
Charlotte smiled. “I would love to, my lord.”
“You would love to, my dear?” Remmick said, glaring at her. “What else would you love to do, I wonder? Were you not friends many years ago? And did I not steal her away from under your nose, Lord Helsing? You know my offer still stands.”
Mason ground his teeth. Nothing would please him more than to punch the obnoxious bastard on his nose. Another time, he promised himself. “On the contrary, my lord. But you are right with one point. Lady Remmick and myself have known each other all our lives.”
“What was the offer, James?” Charlotte asked, frowning.
Mason glared at his lordship, letting him know without words he should keep his mouth shut.
Remmick laughed. “I merely offered to share you, my dear. Of course, Lord Helsing would have to pay for your services. Not,” he added, flicking a piece of invisible lint from his coat, “that you are worth very much. Your...abilities shall we say behind closed doors are somewhat...lacking.”
Charlotte gasped and turned to walk away. Mason clasped her hand and pulled her onto the floor to dance with him instead. He looked down at her and anger churned in his stomach at her unshed tears.
“How are you, really, Charlotte?” he asked.
“Mortified. I cannot believe James could speak of me, or to you, in that unseemly manner. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, stepping away from her for a moment before the music brought them back together. “It is not your fault Lord Remmick is a cad. I apologize as he’s your husband, but some things are better left unsaid.”
Charlotte nodded and a pang of regret pierced Mason’s soul. He regretted that he hadn’t fought harder for her. Regretted that he hadn’t insisted that her father break the contracts and damn the scandal. How could such a beautiful woman, inside and out, be married to the worst debaucher and rake in London.
“I have been watching you for a while and to me you do not have the appearance of a happy woman. Tell me everything is well at home?”
Charlotte paled and missed a step. Mason clasped her about her waist and a longing to hold her assailed him. “Please,” he added.
She sighed. “We are perfectly well, thank you. There is nothing for you to worry about.”
Mason’s gut clenched at the lie. He watched her dance, and although she knew the song well, there was no joy in her eyes. No life.
“You’re lying.”
Charlotte met his gaze and Mason knew instinctively what type of life she lived. The bastard bashed her. Probably took pleasure in her pain. And she was frightened. This dance with him would probably make Lord Remmick think he had the right to hit her again.
“Truly, my lord. I’m fine. Please do not concern yourself.” She cast a nervous glance to where her husband sat and frowned a little.
Mason looked over his shoulder and noted his lordship watching them intently. His visage one of fury. Mason ground his teeth. “You cannot stay married to him,” he said. “He’ll end up killing you, Charlotte and you know it. You must speak to your father at once.”
“Shush,” she said, looking about. “I’ve already told you there is nothing wrong. Now please, let us enjoy what’s left of our dance, so we may part as friends.”
“I can protect you.” Mason gave her a pointed stare that dared her to refute him.
“You can protect me? How? By bringing shame and scandal to both our families? I’m married and there is nothing to be done.”
Mason watched her storm from the dance floor just as the music ended. He sighed and looked about for her friend Lady Furrow. Spying her ladyship beside her husband, the Earl, Mason went to join them and to see what exactly could be done to save Charlotte from Lord Remmick and his abusive clutches.
*
Later that night, Charlotte sat on her bed and nursed the stinging slap James had bestowed on her cheek. It was a relief that his anger over her dancing with Lord Helsing had ended there. On the carriage ride home, he had chastised her endlessly, berated and yelled at her over her ‘wantonness’ and ‘whoring’ that, according to him, all of London knew and was talking about.
Sometimes Charlotte actually thought that James was losing his mind. Since their marriage, she’d been nothing but the best wife to him. A wife who tolerated a lot. Not that she had a choice in the matter. There was little anyone could do to make her situation improve.
She heard the front door slam and knew James had left for the night and if anything like his other nights out on town, wouldn’t be home for several days. Charlotte rang for some heated water and waited. She sat before her dressing table and stared at her reflection. At twenty years, she was still an attractive woman.
Anger thrummed through her over her husband’s violent behavior. Who was he to hit her? And why should she put up with it any longer? The next time he went to strike her would be his last.
Mason’s words whispered in her mind, “I can protect you”. There was no doubt that he could if she asked him. But other than divorcing Lord Remmick – which she refused to do – there was little to be done. Although, perhaps Mason could help her in another way. In the ways of a man and woman and in one need in particular.
Charlotte pulled the pins from her hair and let her light locks pool about her shoulders. Her dark cobalt blue eyes gave her an air of exoticness that she liked and from the glances which some gentleman had bestowed upon her, she knew that they appreciated her too.
She started when her maid brought in the water and towels. Charlotte dismissed her for the night. She washed thoroughly, then went to her armoire and looked through her clothing. She pulled out a gown that buttoned up at the front and had a hood. It was not something she would normally wear in public, but it was perfect for what she had planned in a certain gentleman’s bedroom.
Searching through her chest of drawers she found an almost transparent shift and pulled it over her head. Then picking up the gown, she tied it up over the shift.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach over what she was about to do. Charlotte took a calming breath, pulled the hood over her hair and left her room. Walking down the stairs, she saw the night footman jump to attention as he noticed her and bowed.
“Can I help you, my lady?”
“Can you summon a hackney carriage please? I’m going out.”
The footman nodded and ran outside. Charlotte pushed down the desire to run back to her room and forget the folly she’d embarked upon. Then, the thought of her husband and his abusiveness toward her strengthened her resolve. James could very well kill her the next time he was inclined to strike her. She’d be damned she’d die without living first.
The footman came in some minutes later and beckoned her toward the door. Charlotte followed him and took a calming breath of London’s still night air. She gave the driver the direction to Lord Helsing’s residence and sat back. Excitement over the unknown made her restless and she fidgeted with her reticule.
Would Mason admit her? By his hooded, appreciative gaze during their dance tonight and his reassuring words she felt that he would. Still, she was married and what she was about to do was an unforgivable transgression. Charlotte should she supposed feel guilty, but all she felt was expectation. Like her body was alive again.
The drive was short and before Charlotte
knew it, the cab pulled up beside a Georgian townhouse on Berkeley Square. Lights blazed from a first floor window and two from the second. Until now, she hadn’t thought that Mason may still be out or worse, that he may be entertaining someone else... She pushed the dismal thought aside and stepped out onto the pavement. Paying the driver she walked up the short flight of steps and knocked.
Within moments a footman opened the door. His widened eyes told of his shock at seeing a lady dressed in hooded, secretive apparel and standing on the street in the middle of the night. Charlotte walked past him and into the foyer. The home was of similar layout to hers. With a tiled mosaic floor and winding staircase up to the second story, she could almost picture herself back there. Except this home, seemed much more comforting and welcoming than hers ever would.
“I’m here to see, Lord Helsing. Tell him Charlotte King is here. He isn’t expecting me.”
“If you’ll wait here, Miss King.”
Charlotte watched as the footman walked toward what she assumed to be the library or front drawing room. She heard muffled voices before rapid footsteps sounded in the adjacent room.
“Charlotte, are you well?” Lord Helsing clasped her hand and studied her for a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“May we speak in private, my lord?”
He frowned and Charlotte could read the confusion in his gaze. “Of course,” he said. “Please, follow me.”
The room was a library with floor to ceiling paneling and books. The smell of leather and cigars mixed with an old book scent Charlotte had always loved met her senses. She sat down on the settee before the unlit hearth and wondered for a moment if she’d done the right thing.
Pushing back her hood, she watched Mason shut and lock the door before joining her on the chair. Nerves skittered up her arm when he clasped her hand.
“He’s hit you hasn’t he? And don’t lie to me this time. I can see by your reddened cheek that he has.”
