Ladies of Disgrace Box Set

by Vicki Hopkins

  “You are such a bad-mannered female I am at a loss how to even begin this task.” Albert jumped to his feet and paced in front of the settee. After running his fingers through his hair in a fit of frustration, he halted and stared at her in confusion.

  “Oh, sit down,” Charlotte ordered. “I promised Cedric I would behave and listen.” She pointed toward the chair, wiggling her index finger. “Have a seat and put forth your best effort.”

  Her surrender had brought relief, but Albert despised her appendage pointed at him each time she spoke. She gazed at him with her long, dark eyelashes that batted like butterfly wings. It was impossible to determine whether it was a flirtatious move on her part or a nervous reaction.

  Albert reached over to the side table and picked up a notepad and a sharpened pencil.

  “You may need these to take notes.” He shoved the objects in her direction.

  “Notes? Why on earth do I need to take notes? Do you think I am not an intelligent woman with a good memory?”

  Realizing his offer had offended her, he placed the items back on the table. “All right, then I shall trust your ability to retain any information I share at our sessions.” Charlotte pulled her mouth to one side, showing her peeved state of mind. Albert knew he needed to keep some semblance of peace between the two of them to make any headway.

  “Do you still wish for a cup of tea?” he asked in a congenial tone.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Albert got to his feet and called for Smith, who arrived forthwith. He sheepishly lowered his eyes as if he had been eavesdropping at the door. “Have the housekeeper bring us a pot of tea, two cups, and small cakes.”

  “Right away, Lord Beckett,” he hurriedly responded. A twinkle of amusement sparkled in his eyes. Albert did not have the heart to reprimand Smith for finding an ounce of humor in his current situation. On the other hand, he cringed that Smith had revealed his titled status.

  After returning to his seat and sitting down, Albert slowly commenced his dissertation. “As I inferred during dinner—”

  Charlotte quickly interrupted. “Ah, so the secret is out. It’s Lord Beckett, is it? That makes you a son of an aristocrat.”

  “If you must know, I am related to Viscount Beckett of Bristol.”

  “Interesting,” Charlotte drawled in return.

  “Now, as I was saying the other evening, the requisites of good society include many aspects. I intend to touch upon them briefly.”

  “Make that a slight touch and not a lingering one I find dreary.” Charlotte shifted in her seat.

  “Good breeding,” Albert declared. “Cedric has informed me of your rather colorful family dynamic.”

  “I guess you could call it colorful. My father married his mistress when my mother became pregnant with me.”

  “Highly unusual for a man of his stature to do so,” Albert somberly remarked, not raising his eyes to Charlotte. “He an earl, is he not?”

  “You know, I admire my father greatly. Though titled, he had the gumption to do as he pleased, not giving a damn what society thought of it.” A twinkle of fondness flashed in Charlotte’s eyes. “My parents brought me up to be an independent woman.”

  Albert accepted their influence upon her life but still found it strange Charlotte had married an elder man shortly after coming out.

  “How did your marriage come about, might I ask? Did you choose Lord Rutherford on your own, or did your parents suggest the match?”

  Before Charlotte could answer, Albert’s butler entered the room with a silver tray and set it on the table. “Thank you, Smith,” Albert remarked. When he left, Albert poured a cup for Charlotte. “Black or white? Sugar?”

  “Nothing,” she remarked, reaching for the full cup and taking it from his hand. “I like my brews strong and untouched.”

  “Very well then,” he remarked. “I’ll note that for our future instances of taking tea.” He poured a cup and added a small amount of milk and one lump of sugar, which was his preference. “You have yet to answer my question regarding your marriage,” he reminded her, leaning back into the chair.

  “To be quite frank with you, I don’t think it is any of your business.” She flashed a defiant smile and took a sip of her black brew.

  “No matter,” he replied indifferently. “Cedric already told me the circumstances that you married for money at the prodding of your father who lost a tidy sum at the casino.”

  “Well, if you knew, why did you ask?”

  “I suppose to test your honesty, which would reveal a portion of your moral character.” He set his cup down. “But alas, you didn’t answer me, so I will have to learn as I go.”

  “Get on with it,” Charlotte spat.

  “All right, then besides good breeding, education, cultivation of taste, the ability to reason, the art of speaking knowledgeably, temper, good manners, and moral character are all requisites for an individual’s being part of good society.”

  “I still think you’re a pompous ass,” Charlotte quipped. “I know plenty of people in other classes of life who possess many of those qualities. Perhaps not educated and well spoken, but they have good tempers and character.”

  “But you are part of upper society,” Albert reminded her. “Do you despise your birthright?”

  “My birthright does not define me, which is where you and I differ on the topic.”

  “Obviously.” Albert remained silent for a moment, contemplating where he should start. Besides good manners, he wished to touch upon how a lady should handle herself. It was quite evident Charlotte only used her womanly wiles to her advantage. As far as acting with modesty, agreeableness, and any sense of dignity, her behavior bordered on pathetic.

  “Well, let’s touch on a few items I deem important in a woman that will garnish you respect from your peers.”

  “If you insist,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

  Albert took a deep breath and embarked on tutoring Charlotte in the more elegant aspects of feminine behavior. He had to admit she was an attractive woman if her mouth remained closed and her facial expression relaxed from its defiant clenched jaw. For Charlotte to think she could seduce him had been a ridiculous idea. Never would he succumb to such a vulgar creature regardless of the wiles she wielded in his direction.

  Swiftly he changed his thoughts to more amenable topics and engaged his rehearsed first lesson.

  Chapter Four

  An Ounce of Empathy

  Charlotte paid no attention to Albert as he rattled off a list of female attributes he thought she should possess. Words such as modesty, agreeableness, politeness, dignity, delicacy, temper, flowed from his mouth in an unending stream. She feared drowning in his droll recitation. The man must have memorized aspects of a book that detailed all those facets of perfect womanhood. Rather than concentrating, her mind wandered to more exciting pursuits.

  Occasionally she brought her cup of tea to her lips and took a sip, nodding at a few of his words and acting as if she cared when in fact she didn’t give a damn. After agreeing to the challenge, she had only one goal in mind—to eradicate his smug attitude by immersing him in a world of pleasurable and challenging experiences. Eventually seduction would occur, and the challenge won. When she considered the consequences of the latter, Charlotte concluded bedding him might turn out to be physically erotic if she could push away the poor character he radiated. He was after all quite attractive despite his countenance appearing slightly boyish.

  As he touched on the importance of modesty in dress, Charlotte thought of the gown she would choose the next time they were together. As much as she loved red, black had also been one of her favorites. Another off-the-shoulder risqué satin hung in her closet that would be perfect to adorn her curves while stepping out for an evening of entertainment. Her late husband had showered her with enough diamond necklaces and earrings to accentuate the black satin and make her sparkle like a star. With her fair skin, plump bosom, and low bodice, Albert wouldn’t
be able to keep his gaze elsewhere. As she pondered her clothing choices, she decided to dress modestly in the beginning and then eventually lower the necklines as their escapades increased.

  Her focus changed as she gazed at his mouth, spewing about the qualities of politeness and agreeableness. Albert’s lips were perfect form—not too thick or thin. To add to his suitable appearance, he had dense brown hair that curled in perfect waves. When he ran his fingers through it in a fit of frustration, Charlotte thought of jumping up and doing the same just to feel his locks.

  Albert’s clean-shaven face allowed his chiseled features and square jawline to accentuate his good looks. Most men, including Cedric, had facial hair of some sort—either mustache or beard. Inwardly, she despised it on a man and preferred a clean-shaven male. Unfortunately, her dead husband sported bushy gray sideburns that made him look like Saint Nicholas. Charlotte learned to tolerate his appearance because the man adored her immensely and showered her with trinkets—not to mention the incredibly wealthy widow’s inheritance. Even after paying off her father’s gambling debts, plenty remained to care for her the remainder of her life.

  “Are you listening?” Albert asked, cocking his head in her direction. “You appear distracted.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she sheepishly replied. “I was gazing at your lips and considering our first kiss.”

  “You mean daydreaming,” he snidely replied. “Believe me, Lady Rutherford, you are the last woman on this earth I desire to kiss.”

  “So you say.” She sighed. “But the game is early, Lord Beckett, and I don’t tire easily.”

  “I’m sure while performing certain unsavory pursuits you experience exuberant energy,” he coldly remarked. “Now, as I was saying, as we spend our time together in the future, you should study those qualities in other women and attempt to incorporate them into your behavior.”

  “Anyone particular I should imitate in this pursuit? Your mother perhaps?”

  “My mother—”

  “That reminds me, where do you live when you’re not in London?” Charlotte interrupted him before he could answer. He appeared miffed she had rudely done so.

  “My estate is in the country in Bristol,” he replied. Albert got to his feet, agitated again by her impolite questions.

  “I beg your pardon,” she replied in a repentant tone. “My interruption of your reply to my first question was most rude. Do tell me who you would want me to imitate in this pursuit.”

  “There is no one in particular.” Albert turned his head and glanced out the window.

  Surprised at his reaction, it suddenly dawned on Charlotte that perhaps he didn’t know any woman with all those ridiculous qualities of perfect social behavior. The man lived in a fantasy-filled state of mind.

  “Is that why you are a bachelor?” she prodded, rising to her feet. Charlotte took a step closer to allow his nostrils an inhalation of her perfume. After batting her eyelashes a few times while she studied him, she noted his edgy demeanor. He felt cornered by her proximity.

  “My marital status is none of your concern,” he remarked. “This is a perfect example of what a lady does not do when in the presence of a male companion.”

  “Oh dear,” Charlotte said, touching his face and enjoying the closeness of his morning shave on her fingertips. His smooth and unblemished complexion no doubt added to his overzealous opinion of himself. “You haven’t found a woman who possesses all those silly qualities.” She shook her head. “Such a shame, Albert, for you will die a lonely old man.”

  It took Albert a few seconds to react to her physical gesture. “You are far too forward, and I don’t appreciate your prying questions nor your uninvited touch upon my person.” He stepped away from her and walked back to his chair and sat down.

  His reaction confirmed to Charlotte that she had broached a tender subject. When her lips curled into an uncontrolled sneer of success, she sat down and leaned back in her chair. “Well, what else is on the agenda this morning?”

  “As we spend time together in the weeks ahead, it will be your responsibility to observe these qualities I have noted. You will encounter social situations that will demand your utmost attention to detail in your temperament and the way in which you carry yourself with dignity.”

  “If that is the case, please permit me to suggest we immerse ourselves in a social situation today.” Charlotte stood. “Follow me, Albert, and allow your attentive student the opportunity to prove my point.”

  Albert suspiciously looked at Charlotte but obeyed. “Fine. Why don’t we have lunch together?”

  “Delightful idea but I choose,” Charlotte swiftly interjected.

  “All right, since you appear to have the skills and culinary tastes to satisfy your palette.”

  The situation had fallen into Charlotte’s hands, and she knew what needed to be done to make a point. “My carriage is waiting for me at the curb.”

  Albert grabbed his top hat and followed Charlotte out the door like an unsuspecting heifer to the slaughter. After giving her driver instructions, she sat across from Albert, who remained quiet for the first time in an hour. No words of social civility left his mouth, except as they neared their destination she saw his eyes widen in distress.

  “Where are we going?” he demanded in a stern tone as they crossed the Thames.

  “To a pub on the east side of London,” Charlotte nonchalantly replied.

  “Whatever for?” he squealed.

  “To immerse ourselves in the social classes, for heaven’s sake,” she replied. “Isn’t that the point of today’s lesson on the habits of good society and the various levels of the social hierarchy?”

  “You appear, Lady Rutherford, to misinterpret the definition of good.” Albert shifted in his seat as they crossed the river and entered another world he chose to ignore. Charlotte knew by the scrunched brow on his forehead that he found the area to be distressing. Her idea to test him had turned into an interesting trial of character.

  The driver traversed the crowded streets, and the smells filtered into the carriage, causing Albert to react. He pulled out his handkerchief and put it against his nose to stifle the stench.

  “Stop being such a weakling,” Charlotte scolded him. “Your actions are offensive, and if you don’t want your throat slit or a pickpocket walking off with your wallet, I would remove that smug look on your face and breathe normally.”

  “How can you, as a supposed lady, subject yourself to this—to this underclass world of vagabonds, thieves, uncivilized and uneducated mass of humanity?” His voice trembled.

  “You are quite the heartless man, Beckett,” Charlotte snarled. She banged on the roof of the carriage and yelled to her driver, “Stop here.” The horses slowed until they halted on Commercial Street. When the carriage door opened, Charlotte exited without hesitation, but Albert remained inside.

  “I’m not coming out,” he snarled. “This is Whitechapel for God’s sake. Do you know where you are?”

  “Get out,” she sternly ordered, grabbing his hand and giving it a tug of insistence. “If you don’t, I’m going to have my driver physically drag your ass into the street and dump you in a pile of horse dung.”

  Albert swiftly changed his mind and exited, standing near Charlotte. His eyes darted down the street in horror. “Come back in an hour,” Charlotte instructed. “We will meet you here.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The coachman tipped his hat.

  “Now, the pub is a block away on the corner and a rather quaint location that the colorful locals visit.”

  “Colorful.” Albert sneered. “Not quite the term I would use to describe them.”

  He sidestepped a few ladies walking by with tattered clothing, holding the hands of dirty-faced children grinning up at him in his finery. An apparent prostitute stood at the curb, looking for work, and winked at Albert enticingly. Charlotte knew they would cause a few heads to turn, dressed in fine clothes, but she had a point to make. Without fear, she led the way down the street
until they arrived at an establishment named The Ten Bells. When Albert saw the name, he refused to take a step farther.

  “You are sadly mistaken if you think I’m going to stay here any longer and subject myself to this area of London.” His voice nervously cracked. “Do you know two of Jack the Ripper’s victims supposedly frequented this establishment?”

  “I do,” Charlotte said enthusiastically. “Isn’t this a delightfully exhilarating experience?”

  She reached out and grabbed Albert’s hand, dragging him through the doorway into the interior. He stumbled inside and abruptly halted. The door closed behind him, hitting him in the backend. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. Albert stood immovable like a stone pillar. The air, filled with smoke, hung above their heads like fog, and dark-paneled walls added to the gloomy ambiance.

  “Don’t stand there like a fool,” she called after him. “Get me an ale and come sit with me. You’ll feel better.” Charlotte purposely chose a table by the window.

  “I doubt that,” he grumbled, walking toward the bar.

  Charlotte observed his awkwardness amidst the locals. The poor man appeared appalled when a patron got within a foot of his body. The bartender looked at him curiously as he set the glasses down in front of him. On the way to the table, Albert’s mortified countenance caused Charlotte to chuckle.

  “I’d prefer a decent glass of wine, but the selection is poor,” he complained. “Here’s your ale. Not exactly the drink for a gentleman or lady.” Albert turned his glass around in circles, examining it for cleanliness.

  Charlotte raised hers toward Albert. “Let us toast to new experiences in our quest to change one another,” she announced with a sly grin curling her lips.

  “I can assure you the experiences I propose shall be far more agreeable,” he replied.

  Charlotte licked the foam from her lips and then glanced out the window. “What do you see?”

  Instantly Albert responded. “Poverty,” he mumbled without turning his head.