Lady's Wager

by Georgie Lee

  “I’m glad to see you’ve overcome your difficulties with Miss Stuart,” George took a snort of snuff from a silver snuffbox.

  “Was it Lady Redding who told you I was having trouble with the lady?” Edward laughed, his mood far too elevated to be put off by his father’s inquiry. “Did she convince you to come to London?”

  He snapped the snuff box lid closed and tucked it in his coat pocket. “I don’t reveal the source of my gossip. Makes things awkward.”

  “All right but I know you and Lady Redding are plotting against me.”

  “If you weren’t so pigheaded, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “On such a point, I must agree,” Edward said before both men settled into their own thoughts.

  Edward smiled to himself as he realized he now owed Henry ten pounds. It was worth it to have Miss Stuart look at him kindly, to hear her laugh at his jokes, debate him on art, discuss a multitude of subjects with no false airs, no plotting or scheming to secure his title or fortune. She took him as he was and presented herself honestly which was everything he wanted in a potential wife. A number of times he’d caught her examining him with more than just a passing interest and it gave him hope in his ability to win her heart.

  He rested his head against the back of the carriage, closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine a future with Miss Stuart. He pictured them wandering again through the Royal Academy, this time arm in arm. He imagined a carriage ride across the Italian countryside on their way to Rome to see the ruins, or perhaps through Paris after the war. Then someday, they’d stroll through Grossmont Hall, their son’s small hand in hers as she showed him all of their paintings, including his mother’s. No other woman had ever excited in him a desire for his future as a husband, or the possibility of such happiness. It was a far cry from the Edward who’d set out for London wary of being made miserable by marriage like his father. He’d found a woman he cared for who genuinely cared for him. It was more than he could have hoped for.

  Chapter Six

  The landau jostled to a stop outside St. Dunstan’s Charitable Hospital, jerking Charlotte from her thoughts. She breathed a sigh of relief as she took in the hospital’s massive stone façade dotted with even rows of windows, thankful to have something besides Lord Woodcliff to occupy her mind. It’d been three days since the ball at Almack’s and not a moment had passed without her thinking of him or longing for his voice to sooth her like the steady rumble of waves along the ocean shore. Except she hadn’t seen him, or heard his voice because he had yet to call.

  “Mrs. Stuart, Miss Stuart, Miss Knight welcome,” Dr. Walter called as he hurried out to greet them. “I see you brought the books you promised.”

  Charlotte handed Dr. Walter the books as she descended from the vehicle, trying not to let her worry over Lord Woodcliff intrude on the visit. “Mr. Haden’s book is well recommended and many of his ideas regarding fever are revolutionary.”

  “Indeed, thank you. Welcome, Miss Knight.” Dr. Walter offered Elizabeth his hand as she stepped out of the landau. “I’m glad you could finally visit our humble establishment.”

  “You’re too kind, Dr. Walter. I feel guilty for not coming sooner.”

  “You’re here now which is all that matters. Please, everyone follow me, we have a great deal to discuss. I have the most amazing news but I won’t tell you until we’re inside,” he exclaimed, ushering the ladies in through the large wooden doors of the main hospital building.

  They followed Dr. Walter down a short hallway, past the open door of the men’s ward, where Elizabeth paused, wide-eyed at the scene before her. Charlotte approached her friend, taking her hand as they both surveyed the long, rectangular room. Wooden beds stood in even rows the length of the ward, each occupied by a man in various stages of illness. The sickest ones tossed feverishly or moaned in pain, while others slept or watched the doctors attend patients and the dressers change bandages. Sunlight poured in through the large glass windows but the light did little to purify the air or cut through the overwhelming malaise.

  “I didn’t realize how bad it might be,” Elizabeth murmured, covering her nose with her handkerchief.

  “That’s why they need our help. Come along, we have work to do.” Charlotte gently guided Elizabeth back to the hallway.

  “You’re so brave Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied faintly, her fair cheeks paler than usual.

  “I’m not brave, just far more accustomed to it than you are.”

  “Not to worry,” Aunt Mary smiled taking Elizabeth’s other arm. “Keep your handkerchief over your nose and take deep breaths.”

  Elizabeth followed Aunt Mary’s instructions until they finally reached Dr. Walter’s simple but well-appointed office at the end of the hallway. Inside, the sweet smell of tea and lemon cake drove away the air of sickness outside the door.

  Mrs. Walter hurried forward to help guide a very faint Elizabeth into one of the chintz chairs surrounding the tea table. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry for being so silly. I’m quite fine, really I am,” Elizabeth weakly protested as she fanned herself.

  Mrs. Walter smiled as she handed Elizabeth a cup of tea. “Nonsense, I was also faint the first few times but once you’re used to it, you’ll be stronger for it.”

  Charlotte sat in the chair next to Elizabeth, relieved her friend hadn’t passed out in the hall. “Now, Dr. Walter, you must tell us your news.”

  Dr. Walter joined them in the remaining chair, waving away his wife’s offer of tea with a nervous, excited gesture. “Just this morning the hospital received a generous donation of two thousand pounds.”

  “From whom?” Charlotte gasped and Dr. Walter shrugged.

  “I don’t know. A solicitor arrived with instructions from his employer to make an anonymous donation. He asked how much the hospital needed to complete the charity wing. I told him and he immediately produced the exact amount. I tried to find out the identity of our generous patron but the solicitor refused to reveal it.”

  “And you have no clues?” Elizabeth asked.

  Dr. Walter shrugged again. “He said his employer directed him only to say his generosity was due to Miss Stuart. Then he left.”

  Everyone turned to Charlotte who stared back at them in stunned silence.

  “Who do you think it is?” Aunt Mary asked, eager to fill in the holes in this intriguing tale.

  “I don’t know. Lord Woodcliff introduced me to many people at Almack’s but none seemed as generous as this.”

  “Perhaps it was Lord Woodcliff. He seems to fancy you,” Elizabeth offered, but Charlotte shook her head at the idea.

  “He doesn’t have the means to make such an extravagant gift and he doesn’t fancy me.” Or he’d have called on us by now. It was only Friday. One could hardly fault Lord Woodcliff for not calling yet, except she did.

  “Perhaps he’s not so devoid of resources as we’ve been led to believe,” Elizabeth suggested, with a strange, knowing glance.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing, it was just a thought,” Elizabeth quickly disappeared into her teacup.

  Charlotte rose and walked to the window, wondering if Elizabeth might be right. No, it was impossible. Almost everyone she’d heard speak of him said his circumstances were strained, but still the idea nagged at her.

  “Perhaps the donor was Lord Veness?” Charlotte offered but Dr. Walter shook his head.

  “Lord Veness’s solicitor visited yesterday with a donation of considerable size, as did a number of other solicitors employed by well-known gentlemen and ladies.”

  “Then I’m afraid this donor isn’t anyone I met at Almack’s.” Charlotte bit the nail of her thumb, scouring her mind for some clue to help her solve this mystery.

  “If the donor wishes to remain anonymous then we should thank him by honoring his request,” Dr. Walter suggested.

  “I agree and with the funds in place, we can proceed with the improvements.”

  “I dare say
Charlotte, with the money raised, you’ll need a new project,” Aunt Mary laughed good-naturedly.

  Charlotte offered her a wan smile, catching the meaning of her aunt’s comment, but she wasn’t about to put too much faith in Lord Woodcliff occupying her time, especially since he still hadn’t called. Disappointment dampened her excitement. Over the last few days, despite her best efforts to hold down her hopes, they’d risen and now they were slowly being eroded. Why hadn’t he called?

  “Perhaps you can help me find a suitable architect for the hospital,” Dr. Walter offered, misunderstanding Aunt Mary’s meaning much to her visible displeasure.

  “I’ve heard Mr. Nash is the best,” Elizabeth volunteered. “I’ll speak to Lord Ashford about inquiring after his services.”

  “Mr. Nash is far too busy with Carlton House to take time for a charity hospital but perhaps Lord Ashford can suggest another suitable candidate,” Charlotte responded as she took her seat at the table, ready to forget Lord Woodcliff and focus on this new task.

  “I’ve drawn up my suggestions for improvements.” Dr. Walter went to his desk, rolled back the top and selected a piece of paper from the clutter inside. He handed it to Charlotte, then stood over her chair as she reviewed it. “We must install larger windows to increase air circulation and provide partitions between the beds. I’d also like to hire more staff. My recommendations are based on the improvements made at Middlesex Hospital, which greatly benefited the hospital’s general condition. I’ve also added your suggestion of gaslights.”

  “Wonderful.” She handed the plan back to the doctor.

  He returned it to his desk then sat down next to her. “There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you. It’s a delicate one but important. I believe a maternity hospital, similar to the General Lying-In Hospital but much smaller in scale is necessary for this section of London. It would be a great help to poor mothers, especially servant girls who’ve been led astray and have nowhere else to go.”

  Aunt Mary set down her teacup with a noticeable rattle. “Dr. Walter, such conversation isn’t suitable for unwed ladies.”

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Stuart. Since Miss Stuart is very familiar with all aspects of hospitals, delicate and otherwise, I didn’t think it improper.”

  Aunt Mary moved to answer but Charlotte quickly replied. “It’s quite all right Dr. Walter. I believe we should help these poor, unfortunate women.”

  “Or those abandoned by their husbands,” Mrs. Walter sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s an all too common occurrence.”

  Charlotte shook her head at the terrible thought. “How can that be when they’ve pledged to love their wives?”

  “Sometimes the men fall out of love or they turn to drink to ease their burdens,” Mrs. Walter explained.

  “I can’t believe a husband could be so despicable.” Charlotte shuddered. If the Comte hadn’t run off with another, she too might have become a young mother abandoned by the very man who’d once claimed to love her.

  “Don’t be such a dour goose Charlotte,” Aunt Mary clucked. “Not all men are scoundrels.”

  No, they weren’t, but sometimes in the heat of infatuation it was difficult to tell. She no longer trusted her judgment where love was concerned. Perhaps it was a good thing Lord Woodcliff hadn’t called.

  “The hospital must show these poor women kindness and charity where their husbands have shown them none,” Charlotte proclaimed, refusing to allow her own concerns to distract her from helping others with theirs. “Dr. Walter, I think it’s a wonderful suggestion and we must begin on the plans at once.”

  *****

  Long shadows fell across the street as the driver deftly maneuvered the Stuart’s landau away from St. Dunstan’s.

  “John, are we in time for a drive through Hyde Park?” Aunt Mary asked, much to Charlotte’s surprise.

  “Yes, ma’am, we are,” John, a kind but rough-looking man in his forties, answered.

  “Then take us to Rotten Row.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes immediately lit up. “Lord Ashford regularly rides at this hour.”

  “Perhaps Lord Woodcliff will be with him,” Aunt Mary offered and everyone fixed on Charlotte, waiting for her response.

  “Many people ride in the park at this hour. We’re sure to see a number of people we know.” Despite her racing heart, she refused to reveal anything for fear Elizabeth would tell Lord Ashford who would in turn tell Lord Woodcliff.

  As John turned the landau into Hyde Park and down Rotten Row, Charlotte tried not to hold her breath in anticipation. It was five o’clock, the fashionable hour. All around them gentlemen and ladies, dressed in their best riding clothes paraded through the park astride fine horseflesh in an attempt to exhibit themselves to their best advantage. Those too old or unskilled to ride tooled about in their carriages, hoods pushed back to show off their fine jewelry and fashionable attire.

  Normally, Charlotte would laugh at this parade of hopefuls and snobs but tonight she overlooked them all as she secretly searched the park for one familiar face. He wasn’t among the crowd and Charlotte began to relax when suddenly, Elizabeth sat bolt upright and motioned to someone behind the carriage.

  “Here comes Lord Ashford and Lord Woodcliff is with him.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise, much to Aunt Mary’s visible delight. She quickly tried to recover herself but it was difficult as Lord Ashford and Lord Woodcliff were immediately upon them.

  “Mrs. Stuart, Miss Stuart, Miss Knight,” Lord Ashford said, bringing his mount up to the left side of the carriage where Elizabeth sat, blushing quietly.

  “Good evening Miss Stuart.”

  Charlotte heard the familiar voice beside her and Lord Woodcliff’s failure to call on her faded beneath his striking presence. He smiled at her from atop his mount, his handling of the large animal as impressive as the cut of his figure in his black riding coat. Beneath his dun colored breeches, his thighs tightened and relaxed as he kept his horse steady next to her side of the carriage. He appeared as confident in the saddle as any of the generals on their rearing steeds in the paintings in the Musée Napoleon.

  “Lord Woodcliff, do you ride here often?”Aunt Mary asked, momentarily drawing his attention away from Charlotte.

  “Almost every evening, though business has kept me out of London these last three days, but I’ll ride again at this time tomorrow.”

  “Then perhaps we’ll see you tomorrow, for Charlotte also enjoys a good ride in the evenings.”

  Charlotte frowned at her aunt in disbelief, for they both knew Charlotte was no horsewoman.

  “Then I look forward to tomorrow, especially if I may also call for tea.”

  His attention lingered on Charlotte who wished she had a horse so she could climb in the saddle now and they could ride off together through the park. Even if she did have a gelding, she doubted they’d get far. She wasn’t an accomplished rider, though she could always sit with Lord Woodcliff, his strong arms keeping her steady, his chest pressed against her back. She could hardly believe she was imagining such a thing, yet she wondered if there was enough room for her between him and the horse’s neck.

  “You’re welcome at any time, Lord Woodcliff,” Aunt Mary gushed.

  Charlotte tried to think of something to say, but even with Lord Ashford bidding Elizabeth goodbye and both men preparing to leave, no words came to her.

  “Until tomorrow.” Lord Woodcliff tipped his hat to her, then with a deft flick of the reins and the shift of his high boots in the stirrups, he rode off with Lord Ashford.

  It was all she could do to not to turn and stare out the back of the landau and watch him until he faded from view. Instead she remained seated, attempting to ignore the curious looks from Aunt Mary and Elizabeth.

  “Lord Woodcliff is an excellent horseman, don’t you agree?” Elizabeth prodded.

  “He’s to be admired,” Charlotte returned as nonchalantly as she could but she was fooling no one and she knew it.

  **
***

  Edward strode up the stairs into White’s, convinced he’d find there a large company of friends and entertainment to distract him. He’d spent the last three days in Somerset settling a portion of his stepmother’s debts. On the way to Bath, he’d thought of almost nothing except Miss Stuart and when he might see her next. During the journey home, with his stepmother’s insults ringing in his ears, he’d begun to question the courtship. Miss Stuart might have been tender with him under the influence of fine silk and candlelight, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t return to her previously ill-informed opinions of him the next day. His stepmother had doted on his father until the wedding then she’d revealed her true nature. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to him with Miss Stuart. Even though his gut told him she’d never mistreat a person the way his stepmother had mistreated his father, his mind demanded caution.

  He’d ridden into Hyde Park determined not to rush into a relationship and risk making the same mistake his father had made. His decision to slow the pursuit had vanished the moment he’d caught Miss Stuart admiring him from the landau, her dark lashes framing her eyes, as pleased to see him as he was to see her. During the brief encounter, he’d experienced again the connection they’d developed at Almack’s. The faint pink which had swept her high cheeks had told him her regard for him wasn’t an act, but as genuine as his care for her. It’d overcome all his reasons for prudence and he’d found himself once again consumed with thoughts of her.

  It was a jarring experience. He was a level-headed Viscount, not some besotted poet to flitter from one emotion to the next like the wind on a blustery day. If time at White’s with his friends couldn’t bring back his usual clarity, he didn’t know what could.