by Georgie Lee
Chapter Nine
At five o’clock, Charlotte watched from her bedroom window as Lord Woodcliff arrived in a well-appointed phaeton.
“He’s early.” She fumbled with the buttons of her maroon pelisse, unable to get them through the holes.
“He’s not early my dear, you’re late.”Aunt Mary gently pushed Charlotte’s hands aside and did up the last few buttons. “It’s very unlike you.”
“I know.” The number of things unlike her was growing by the hour, and for the first time ever she didn’t mind. What she did mind was not being ready for his arrival. “Please greet him and tell him I’ll be down in a moment but don’t tell him why.”
“My dear, I’d never reveal a lady’s secrets.”Aunt Mary swept out of the room, leaving Charlotte to finish getting ready.
She considered changing into the puce pelisse then decided against it, afraid she’d spend the whole evening dressing and miss the chance for a ride. Hearing Lord Woodcliff and Aunt Mary’s voices drifting up from below, Charlotte grabbed her reticule and bonnet and made for the hallway.
“Here I am,” she announced, descending the stairs. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“I don’t mind waiting.” He regarded her with a long sweep of his eyes, making her pause for fear of tripping. “It’s worth it to see you looking so radiant.”
The urge to kiss him almost sent her flying into his arms. Instead, she grasped the railing to steady herself as she followed the last few steps down.
“You’re too kind.” She wished she could be more effusive with her thanks but with Aunt Mary hovering about, and her own awkwardness tying her tongue, it wasn’t possible. Learning to graciously accept his compliments would take time but it was a skill she’d gladly acquire.
The butler approached with a letter on a silver tray. “This arrived for you, miss, from the bookseller.”
She took the letter and broke open the wax seal to read it, biting her lip in disappointment.
“Not bad news, I hope?” Lord Woodcliff asked.
“Not bad, just upsetting. My bookseller wasn’t able to find the book on surgery I wanted from America.” She folded the paper. “It’s an old edition and quite difficult to come by.”
He motioned for the letter. “May I?”
She wondered what interest he could have in the book but seeing no objection, she handed him the letter, which he quickly read.
“May I keep this?”
“Why?”
“I have a man who’s acquired a number of rare books for me in the past. He might be able to assist you.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself on my account.”
Lord Woodcliff slipped the letter into his pocket. “I’ll always trouble myself on your account. Your interests are now my interests, as I hope mine will soon be yours.”
Once again speech and thought abandoned her. She’d wanted someone like him for so long. Now he was here and it was a greater adjustment than the change from Paris to London and far more pleasurable. “Yes, you’re right. Let’s be off before the evening is over.”
“Your carriage awaits.” He offered her his arm and she allowed him to lead her out of the house to the waiting phaeton with its deep red sides and green leather seats. A fine sorrel colored gelding as reddish brown as the lacquer waited patiently with the footman holding its reins.
Lord Woodcliff handed her in and she settled on the supple seat, suspicion slinking in beneath her excitement.
“This is quite a well equipped phaeton.”Perhaps too well equipped. “Tell me, how does one of your limited means come by such splendid equipage?”
He frowned a touch as he climbed in, but recovered his good mood as he took up the reins and snapped the horse into motion. “It’s Lord Ashford’s. He allows me to use it on occasion since I don’t have one of my own in London.”
Charlotte nodded, her suspicion far from satisfied. “It’s fortunate you have such a generous friend.”
“Yes, most fortunate indeed.”
There was something disingenuous in Lord Woodcliff’s response and she moved to press the topic then stopped, her uncle’s request to be pleasant keeping her quiet. Uncle Charles would halt the wedding if Lord Woodcliff possessed a pack of debts.
They rode to Hyde Park with Charlotte telling him of the mysterious donation to St. Dunstan’s and the plans for improvements.
“Who do you think it was?” she asked, hoping he might offer some clue to the generous patron’s identity.
“I can’t say.” He pulled tight the reins as he guided the phaeton through the traffic. “It could have been anyone we met at Almack’s.”
“I wish I knew then I could properly thank him.”
“When the time is right, he may reveal himself.”
“I hope he does.”
The phaeton passed through the gates of Hyde Park and Lord Woodcliff maneuvered the conveyance in with the others driving up and down the long row. Unlike her other times here, tonight Charlotte was practically oblivious to the matrons with their large carriages and wigged footmen and the young bucks with their prized stallions. As Lord Woodcliff masterfully handled the ribbons, they discussed Paris and Europe and made plans to visit both once the war was over.
“May I call you Charlotte?” he asked.
“Only if I may call you Edward.”
“Nothing would bring me more pleasure.” He shifted his feet against the boards. “I must speak to you of something you may find unpleasant.”
“Must you? We’re sure to quarrel if you do.”
“Then let’s promise not to.”
“I agree, now what unpleasant topic do you wish to broach?” She twisted her reticule in her hands, waiting for him to reveal whatever was troubling him, hoping it wouldn’t ruin her newfound happiness.
“The day we met at Mr. Taylor’s.”
Charlotte released the poor mangled fabric. “A very unpleasant topic.”
“I wouldn’t even mention it except for the painting. The one you purchased belonged to my mother. It was her favorite and mine but my dragon of a stepmother sold it a number of years ago.”
“Why?”
“Out of spite. She’s a difficult woman. I’ve been trying for a while to recover it. I went to Mr. Taylor’s to purchase it and return it to Grossmont Hall.”
Charlotte stared at Edward in horrified shock. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have happily given it to you if I’d known.”
“At the time I couldn’t bring myself to tell you something so personal. I wish to purchase the painting from you now.”
“I can’t.”
He pulled the reins tight and the horse snorted in protest. “You’d deny me after what I’ve told you?”
“I don’t have it anymore. I gave it to Mrs. Greenville for her charity auction. I’ll speak to her and offer to exchange it for another but she may not part with it. The Prince is fond of the artist and Mrs. Greenville hopes it’ll encourage his attendance and therefore the ton’s.”
“If the painting is available at the auction then it’s not lost. I’ll purchase it and do a good deed for myself and the Widows and Orphans Fund.”
“But Mr. Taylor said the artist, as a favorite of the Prince’s, is sure to draw a high price. How can you afford to pay it?”
Edward frowned as he had when she’d questioned him about the phaeton and suspicion crawled through her again.
“I’m not as devoid of means as you believe,” he answered in a measured tone.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean don’t worry about my ability to purchase the painting.”
“But—“
He raised a silencing hand. “Please, if we’re to be happy, we must learn to trust one another.”
She didn’t press him because he was right but it didn’t settle the matter. One way or another she’d find out what he meant, either when he told her or Uncle Charles discovered it. Hopefully, Edward’s financial problems weren’t serious and all would be well.
She didn’t want to be disappointed in love again.
*****
“Continue this ruse too much longer and you may do more harm than good.” Henry knocked the cue ball with his stick and the ball hurled across the table, missing both red balls but setting Edward up to score.
Edward circled the table, examining his shot. “We’re only just engaged and I’m beginning to gain her confidence, I don’t want to lose it by admitting I’ve been lying to her about my fortune. She’ll wonder what else I’ve been lying about. Besides, I told her uncle and when I’m confident in her affection, I’ll tell her, but not before.”
As Edward lined up his shot, Henry took a long sip of wine. “A sovereign says you don’t make the point.”
“I accept.” He slid the cue stick forward with just enough precision and force to send the cue ball rolling smoothly across the table. It hit the first red ball, bounced off the far side of the table and rolled back to hit the second red ball.
Henry removed a sovereign from his waistcoat pocket and gave it to Edward. “I think you’re making a mistake but if you insist on continuing this charade then I’ll keep your secret.”
“As well as a few more. I told her the phaeton was yours.”
Henry threw up his hands in frustration. “You can’t continue like this.”
“It’s only for a little longer. The charity auction is in two weeks, I’ll tell her then.”
“You’ll have to if the painting is bid up and I hear it might be if the Prince attends.”
“Exactly, but by then she should trust me enough to understand why I told her a very small and harmless lie.”
At least he hoped she did. For all her confidence, he’d caught the vulnerability lying just beneath it. Despite their deepening intimacy, she was wary of opening her heart completely to him. If she found out the wrong way he’d been lying about his wealth, he sensed her reaction wouldn’t be good. He should tell her, but he wanted her to come to love and trust him because of who he was and not his fortune. Until then, he’d keep the truth from her and continue to win her love as she’d won his.
*****
Charlotte and Edward spent every day of the next two weeks together. They read to each other from her medical texts or from his art and botany books. They walked along Bond Street with Aunt Mary and Lady Redding, perusing the shelves of Hookham’s and discussing their future at Grossmont Hall. Edward even accompanied her and Aunt Mary to Dr. Walter’s and on their first visit, much to Charlotte’s surprise and pleasure, he apologized to Dr. Walter for his behavior at the soirée. The two gentlemen then settled into a discussion regarding their mutual concern over the lack of regulations for physicians. Through subsequent visits, Edward helped retain the services of an architect for the improvements to St. Dunstan’s, while Dr. Walter provided Edward with a list of qualified physicians available for employment around Grossmont Hall.
For the first time in her life, she had a companion who shared almost all of her interests, even if those such as medicine were newly acquired. With each passing hour in his presence her feelings for him strengthened until she disliked being without him. He understood her as no one had before, not Lady Redding, Elizabeth or even Aunt Mary. She spoke to him of the loss of her parents and feeling like an outsider in every city she’d lived in. Her openness encouraged his and he told her of his mother’s death and how it still affected him. The one thing she didn’t share with him was her disappointment over the Comte. She didn’t want to mar their time together with such unpleasantness. Instead, she focused on her happiness as each day he became more and more the true companion she’d always sought but never thought she’d find.
It was a great disappointment one morning when Edward’s footman and not Edward arrived at the Stuarts’.
“Miss Stuart, Lord Woodcliff has been detained this morning by urgent business. He’ll call for you this evening for Mrs. Greenville’s auction,” the sober-looking footman announced as Charlotte sat with her aunt and uncle, enjoying breakfast. “He asked me to give you this.”
He handed her a note and a small parcel wrapped in brown paper before following the butler out.
“What is it my dear? It’s too large for jewelry but too small for clothing,” Aunt Mary mused as Charlotte opened the card.
“Sweets, I imagine,” Uncle Charles added from behind The Gazette. “Young men always give sweets when they’re forced to break a morning engagement.”
“I doubt it’s sweets, he knows I don’t care for them.” Charlotte opened the card and read the short note aloud. “I’ve found the item you sought, just as you’ve been for me the item I wished to find. Love, Edward.”
Charlotte clasped the letter to her chest and smiled giddily.
“And you were never going to marry,” Aunt Mary teased.
“I wonder what he found.” She untied the packing string and removed the brown paper wrapper to reveal, much to Aunt Mary’s disappointment, a book. Charlotte turned it over and read the title. “It’s the surgical book from America, the one my bookseller couldn’t find.”
Aunt Mary rolled her eyes. “Only you could be excited by a surgical book.”
With a frown, Charlotte thumbed through the thick pages, admiring the gilded edges and the fine leatherwork of the cover.
“I thought you wanted the book?” Uncle Charles asked.
“I do, but it must have been very dear. How could he afford it?”
“You mustn’t question a gentleman’s gift, my dear,” Aunt Mary chided.
“I’m not questioning it, only the manner in which he obtained it. Do you think he’s running up debts? I can’t marry him if he’s running up debts.” She wouldn’t see her money frittered away on his indulgences and risk ending up like the poor women Dr. Walter wanted to help with the new lying-in wing. Yet the idea of being parted from Edward scared her as much as poverty. She didn’t know how she’d survive the broken heart if his affection turned out to be a lie.
Uncle Charles set aside his paper and gave Charlotte a stern look. “I’ve thoroughly inspected his finances and background and I’m satisfied he’s not running up debts.”
“But—.”
“He loves you, and I’m sure you love him, but in doing so, you must accept him no matter what his situation, good or bad. Things might be well now, but in the future if there’s illness or trouble, the stronger your regard for him no matter what his situation, the more your relationship will endure.”
“Or course. If you’ll excuse me.” She gathered up the book and note and made for her room, torn between believing Edward and trusting her uncle. The Comte had hidden from everyone his secret relationship with the rich widow. What might Edward be hiding from her which not even Uncle Charles could uncover? Despite her uncle’s entreaty to love Edward no matter what, she resolved to confront Edward tonight and force him to tell her the truth of his finances. If there was trouble brewing, she’d discover it before it was too late.
Chapter Ten
Edward escorted Charlotte into Mrs. Greenville’s sumptuous home, followed by Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles. They were not two feet into the spacious foyer when Mrs. Greenville hurried up to them, her red face flushed with the excitement of the evening.
“Charlotte, the Prince has yet to arrive. Do you think he’ll come?”
“I hope so,” she lied. If the Prince failed to come then Edward wouldn’t have to spend a great deal to win the painting.
“Even if he doesn’t come, Lady Chesterton and Lady Banke are here. If nothing else we have succeeded in attracting two members of the ton. Perhaps next time there’ll be more. There’s Mr. Taylor, I must speak to him. You two go to the ballroom and decide which paintings you wish to bid for, though I already know your selection, Lord Woodcliff.”
Mrs. Greenville hurried off through the crowd, much to Charlotte’s relief, for she had no desire to be reminded once again of her current dilemma.
Edward led her through the foyer toward the rear of the house and the massive
ballroom situated between two smaller rooms. The room on the left held a hefty selection of refreshments laid out on massive, rectangular tables. The room on the right was dominated by card tables and a variety of anxious players, alternately cheering and sighing with each winning hand.
“Shall we gamble or shall we eat?” Edward asked.
“Neither, for I’ve had enough of gambling for the time being.”And there was little possibility of calming her nervous stomach enough to eat. All day long she’d worked through different ways of asking Edward about his finances, all the while needled by guilt over her lack of faith in him. She should trust him, love him no matter what his fortune, but she must know.
“Shall we inspect the paintings then?”
“Please.”Anything to take her mind off what she intended to do.
He led her into the ballroom while Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles wandered into the refreshment room to speak with friends. The plasterwork swags and blue walls of the ballroom were covered with false walls painted a deep shade of red to replicate the Musée Napoleon. Paintings hung two or three rows high along these temporary structures, the line of them broken by the occasional bronze statue situated on a half pillar. Chairs assembled from all over the Greenville house sat in neat rows before a small platform at the far end of the room. On it an easel waited to display the auction items and a small podium had been erected for the auctioneer.
Edward and Charlotte made their way around the room admiring the works and searching for his mother’s painting. It hung near the back, halfway up the wall and Charlotte and Edward stopped to admire it.
“I’m sorry I was so difficult about the matter at Mr. Taylor’s,” she offered, wishing she hadn’t been, then she might have enjoyed tonight instead of fretting over Edward’s situation.
“An apology from Miss Stuart?” Edward pressed his hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Why, it’s almost unheard of.”
“You must admit you were also very disagreeable.”
“I’ll take my share of the blame. But I’m happy we’ve put such days behind us.”
