“Then I shall respond in retaliation by throwing you over my knee and giving you a good spanking of correction,” he threatened, casting a dark glare.
“I’d like to see you try,” Charlotte mocked him. “So, where are the horses?”
“Saddled and waiting in the stables,” he said. “Shall we?”
Charlotte pushed past him, acting her usual rude self, rather than waiting for him to lead the way. He wanted to correct her behavior but stifled the urge as he watched her saunter onward, swinging her hips like a pendulum. In a matter of seconds, she mounted a side-saddled horse like a professional.
“Not an ounce of hesitation, I see,” Albert remarked.
“I grew up with horses, Lord Beckett. Riding is one of my favorite pastimes besides rubbing shoulders with lower society.”
Albert situated himself firmly in the saddle. Charlotte galloped off at full speed, leaving him behind. Exasperated, he swiftly engaged in the chase. By her actions, he thought she intended to lose him. Eventually she slowed to a trot and glanced over her shoulder, noting his whereabouts. A few moments later he arrived at her side.
“Once again, your lack of good manners is outstandingly annoying,” he grumbled, eyeing her with distaste.
“Well, I assume you have drinks and food in that wicker basket of yours, so I didn’t wish to leave you entirely behind since riding makes me hungry.”
“I should let you starve,” he grumbled. For a moment he thought about withholding the refreshments just to punish Charlotte for her actions. Not reacting to his words, Charlotte suddenly appeared to drift away into her thoughts. Her facial expression turned somber, and he noticed her gloved hand clench the reins. Thinking her actions odd, he came to her side and inquired as to her state of mind.
“Is something the matter?” His voice remained calm and empathetic. “Your demeanor appears downcast.”
“Nothing is the matter,” she tersely replied. “Besides, don’t you think it is impolite to query my state of mind? I would think it falls into the category of an invasion of my privacy.”
She was right in her assessment of his inappropriate prying. Feeling uncomfortable at having broached on her concealment of thoughts, he changed the subject.
“There is a fine oak tree just yonder with shade.” He pointed his index finger in the direction. “Would that suit you as a location to have our picnic?”
“Looks fine enough,” Charlotte responded. She kicked her horse and galloped in the direction. How quickly she could correct him for a straightforward mistake yet reserve the right to disregard his corrections a second later.
Charlotte dismounted and allowed her horse the opportunity to graze. Her head tilted backward, shielding her eyes with her hand above her brow. After looking into the branches above, she spoke.
“This will do fine. Plenty of shade.”
Albert halted and jumped down on the green grass. The air smelled invigorating, and the breeze rustled the leaves of the tree, creating a soothing environment. He removed the wicker basket tied to the side and a small rolled blanket and approached the tree trunk.
“Not too close.” Charlotte raised her hand to halt his movements. “There’s always something that wishes to crawl up the bark, and I don’t care to have anything crawl on me.”
He cackled a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of ants and spiders, Lady Rutherford? Surely a formidable woman like yourself who is not afraid to consort with individuals in Whitechapel is frightened by tiny insects.”
She wandered a few feet away and found a more pleasurable place, ignoring his comment. “This will do. Put the blanket here.”
Not wishing to argue the point, Albert flipped open the plaid-patterned fabric. After laying it on the lush grassy area, he invited Charlotte to make herself comfortable.
“You may recline as you see fit. I apologize for not bringing your ladyship a chair.”
Charlotte sat down leisurely, ignoring the sarcasm. “So what is the purpose of today’s lesson? How I behave in the countryside rather than the city?”
Albert pondered how he should answer the question. He had ulterior motives, so he might as well be honest with his intent.
“I thought it prudent to spend time with one another, putting aside our individual goals,” he cautiously replied. “I’m interested in getting to know you on a more personal basis so I might understand the challenges I face in reforming your character.”
“Oh dear God.” Charlotte groaned. “What makes you assume I would be willing to open myself up to you for further examination? A bit presumptuous on your part, don’t you think?”
“Why must you question everything I say or suggest?” Albert’s chest heaved in frustration. “I’m perfectly willing to share aspects of my life so you might know me better.”
“So share.” Charlotte wiggled her annoying index finger at him. “I’m fully engaged.”
“All right. I will proceed first.”
Albert found a comfortable spot on the blanket, facing Charlotte. Her eyes reflected her usual defiant glower he chose to ignore. Before beginning, Albert noticed a few large black ants making their way toward her skirt. Enjoying the sight, he decided to disregard the encroachment, knowing full well it would eventually produce irritation.
“I am the nephew of Viscount Reginald Beckett. He has two sons, who are my cousins, and I reside with them in Bristol.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Charlotte said, leaning forward with interest.
“Nothing is as it appears,” Albert replied. “It’s a good lesson for you to remember that judging someone on the surface may lead to inadequate assumptions.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Charlotte rattled hurriedly. “Now tell me how you came to live with your uncle.”
“My father and mother unexpectedly died when I was four years of age, and the viscount brought me into his home and raised me like a son.”
“Might I—?”
“No, you may not ask how my parents came to be deceased,” he brusquely replied. “Some occurrences in an individual’s personal life are too painful to discuss.”
“Then you are fortunate to have such a caring family member.” Charlotte eyed the wicker basket. “Have you brought a bottle of wine or anything to drink? I’m parched.”
She lifted her veil and removed her hat. Afterward, Charlotte pulled the pins from her red locks and let them fall freely, cascading around her shoulders and down her back. The blustery breeze swirled her tresses, making her look like a mysterious temptress of the forest. When a ray of sun filtered through the leaves and rested on her head, Albert fought the hypnotic pull of her beauty. After realizing he was staring like an ogre, he pulled his eyes away.
“Why, yes, I did bring a bottle and two glasses.” He opened the wicker basket and raised the lid. The wine had remained chilled, and he withdrew two glasses from a small case.
“I’m impressed at your preparedness,” Charlotte remarked. “I see you already popped the cork.”
“I did before we left so I wouldn’t need to fiddle with it.” As he poured the alcohol, Charlotte cautioned him by holding her hand near the glass.
“Only half or I shall become a giggling lady this early in the day. I don’t mind if I drink more in the evening because a bed is usually not too far from where I am.” Her eyes sparkled at him as she flashed a suggestive grin.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Albert replied. Taking the same amount, Albert set the bottle down and continued his recitation. “Viscount Beckett is an admirable man whom I respect. He had given me all the same privileges as his sons by sending me to a fine boarding school for my early education as well as to Oxford. I owe him much gratitude.”
“And what of your cousins,” Charlotte inquired. “Are you close with them, or do they resent your coming into their household?”
“Resent? Why no, they have never begrudged my presence. Roger was eight was I arrived, and Benjamin six years of age.” Albert smiled as he fondly remembered hi
s boyhood antics. “We were quite the Three Musketeers, getting into trouble.”
“Getting into trouble.” Charlotte chuckled. “I find that hard to believe. You are such a rigid individual.”
Each time Charlotte found cause to judge him harshly, an indignant attitude rose in his soul. He should not have to defend himself at every turn where Charlotte was concerned and could not explain why her judgment caused such deep offense. Perhaps he cared too much what people thought of him. Whatever she thought of him was of no consequence.
“You may think me rigid, but I do have my moments of levity.” He smirked in defiance.
“Hmm,” Charlotte mused. “Is that all? Is that the end of your story?”
“My aunt passed away two years ago, and I’m afraid my uncle still mourns her loss.” He paused for a moment. “What else is there to know?” he nonchalantly replied and took a sip of wine.
Charlotte studied him warily. He could tell by the twinkle in her eye she had much more to ask regarding his private affairs.
“Tell me, Albert. Have you ever been in love?”
Without hesitation, he replied. “No, not yet, though I held high regard for one young lady.”
“My, my. High regard.” Charlotte’s brow arched over one eye. “Did you ask for her hand in marriage?”
Albert watched with dark amusement an ant crawling up Charlotte’s skirt. “No, I did not. The young lady informed me she had accepted a proposal from another man.”
“I see, and did that break your heart?” She cocked her head at him with interest.
Her prying questions had brought his patience to an end. It was time to divert her nosy inquiries elsewhere. “An ant is crawling up your skirt.” Not expecting such a violent reaction, he jolted when Charlotte expelled a high-pitched scream.
“Bloody hell!” She jumped to her feet, spilled her glass of wine, and frantically swept her skirt as if she were on fire. “Get it off me,” she screeched.
Albert couldn’t help but burst into laughter. At last, the woman had a weakness—insects.
“Dear God, it’s just an ant,” he assured her. “Here, turn around and let me see if it’s gone.” Without thinking, he got to his feet, reached out, and grabbed her hand while examining her outfit. He couldn’t help but admire her beautiful figure that curved in each direction with perfection.
“I hate picnics,” she grumbled. “If there isn’t an ant, some other insect is buzzing about my head.”
Albert controlled his gaiety at her display of fright. Discovering such a tiny and frivolous point of anxiety made no sense whatsoever. She could enter the den of iniquity filled with pickpockets, prostitutes, and ruffians in the East End but came tumbling down to irrational antics over an ant.
“I see no others on your person,” Albert assured, attempting to allay her fears. He picked up the blanket and gave it a good shake, warding off any further invasion of crawling creatures. After laying it back down on the green grass, he offered his hand. “Come now and sit.”
Charlotte looked at him suspiciously and took his hand to steady herself into a semi-reclining position. “If I find one more creature invading my privacy, I’ll insist we dispense with this ludicrous lunch.” She huffed in annoyance. “The next time you wish to talk over a meal, I insist upon fine dining at a restaurant.”
“As you require, your ladyship.” Albert scoffed, shaking his head. “Now tell me about Charlotte.”
“You act as if you wish me to speak about myself as if I were not present. Tell me about Charlotte,” she mocked. “I seem to remember one of your earlier points made during your lectures that women should not be talkers. Instead, we should have a talent for silence when in the presence of a man.”
Surprised she remembered anything he had spoken since they met, she did have a point. He despised chatty women, but she was twisting his position for her gain.
“I’ll make an exception since that is the reason for our meeting today,” he responded.
“As I said, there is little about me you do not already know. You mentioned Cedric had spoken to you of my childhood, and we have discussed the situation at length before.”
Her voice turned sharp and irritated, indicating she didn’t wish to continue the discussion. Nevertheless, Albert felt compelled to ask a question she had tossed at him earlier.
“Tell me, Charlotte. Have you ever been in love?” The question obviously caught her off guard as she glared at him without answering forthwith. “Did you love your husband?”
Charlotte leaned forward in his direction and narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I’ve been in love, and it was not with my husband.”
Albert leaned in closer to her face, tilted his head, and gazed into her eyes. “Pray tell with whom?”
“It’s none of your business,” she seethed with clenched teeth. “Besides, if I told you, you would undoubtedly think less of me.”
Albert laughed and sat upright. “I doubt, Lady Rutherford, I could think any less of you than I do now.” He gulped wine from his glass, acting indifferent at his crude remark. When he saw the hurt in her eyes, Albert regretted his disrespect. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to say such harsh words.”
“Well, I don’t regard you highly either, you arrogant snob.” Charlotte stood on her feet and glowered at him as he sat on the blanket.
“Now see here,” Albert roared in return. He jumped up to face her as she stood with her hands planted on her hips.
“So you want to know whom I loved, do you? While I was married, I had an affair with another man who is more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be.”
“An affair?” Albert squawked so loudly a few birds in the trees flapped their wings and flew away.
“Yes, and I enjoyed every adulterous moment lying in bed with a virile man able to make passionate love to me.” She took a step closer and glared at him in ire. “I doubt you would even know what to do in bed or how to please a woman.” Charlotte eyed him up and down with disgust.
“Well, you’re so intent on seducing me to win this bet I dare say you have a long way to go. I would never bed such a vulgar and sinful creature as you.” Albert held his stance as he watched Charlotte ball her fists together. Thank goodness the riding crop was lying on the blanket.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough of you for one day.” Charlotte bent down, snatched her hat and crop, and headed for the horse a few yards away. Without a further word, she grabbed the reins, mounted, and gave the horse a quick jab with her heel. A second later she sped off back toward the stables.
“Damn it!” Albert shouted, watching her storm off. He turned in anger and thrust his fingers through his hair. “Why do I put up with this impossible creature and this fruitless pursuit to redeem the woman?”
Angry at the outcome of what he had hoped would be a decent day, he corked the bottle of wine and returned the glasses to the case. Suddenly his stomach growled, reminding him of his need for the food in the basket.
“Oh hell,” he croaked, flopping back down on the blanket. “I might as well eat lunch.” He observed another ant make its way across the blanket. “Hopefully, one of you fine fellows crawled up her leg to taunt her later.” Laughing at the thought, Albert stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and mused about what to do next.
Chapter Ten
Soup, Soap, and Salvation
Charlotte made her dramatic departure, nursing her wounded ego over his insensitive remark. It had become quite apparent the man thought little of her as a woman. If she wanted to win the bet, she would need to control her temper that often boiled like a steaming teakettle.
They planned to attend the races for their next outing, but Charlotte was in no mood to cheer galloping horses across the track. She wanted a day away from Albert to reconsider her strategy in the challenge. Instead, she escaped to the East End among others who welcomed her presence. Working at the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen for the day sounded far more pleasant than listening to Albert voice his rhetoric about good society.
Their discussion yesterday had revealed a few things about Albert she didn’t know. The childhood mishap of losing his parents did elicit a pang of empathy, though he became strangely quiet about the means of their demise. She concluded his snobbish attitude must have been ingrained in him from childhood, growing up under his uncle’s tutelage. The two cousins were probably equally obnoxious.
As far as her life, everything of relevance was out in the open. Her father married his mistress, which had been well known in social circles. Rachel, her mother, had come from a poor background but shrewdly used her beauty for gain. Growing up, she instilled in Charlotte qualities of compassion. She loved reaching out to those less fortunate and thought it her Christian duty even though she hadn’t attended church in years. Naturally, her values were a direct opposite of Albert’s lofty principles.
Beyond that, Charlotte confessed she married Rutherford for the money. In all honesty, he wasn’t a monster in his treatment but possessed a kind and attentive personality. Perhaps she had placed herself on the altar of matrimonial sacrifice to pay her father’s gambling debts but knew her husband would probably meet his maker sooner than later. His health had already become an issue. Between the cigars, copious amounts of brandy, and poor eating habits, widowhood arrived earlier than expected.
Nevertheless, Rutherford adored her but had been a sad excuse for a lover, rutting like a deer and rolling off her out of breath and sweaty. During their time together, they were socially active, and she met interesting people. With her gregarious personality and occasional flirting with the men, she had begun to form a reputation. Charlotte’s admission, however, of having an adulterous affair while married had been a bold-faced lie. The truth of the matter sadly remained she, too, had never fallen in love, but admitting it to Albert was not an option. He had irritated her to such a degree she wanted to shock him into further repulsion.
When her husband suddenly died, Charlotte found herself a wealthy woman and threw herself into social circles where she felt comfortable. Gaming and the theater were exciting as well as the people who became her friends and acquaintances. Charlotte admitted her outrageous behavior was a bid for attention. Nevertheless, what woman doesn’t crave a man’s admiration? Naturally, her wealth added to the magnetism of her personality.
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