An Heir of Deception (The Elusive Lords)

by Beverley Kendall

  “Don’t listen to him,” Thomas said sotto voce. “He’s just jealous that of all your brother’s friends, I am your favorite.”

  “I daresay, Cartwright would claim otherwise,” Derek shot back smartly. Quirking his brow, he asked, “Do I not deserve a greeting even if you won’t throw yourself at me and tell me I’m the most handsome man on earth?”

  Giggling, Charlotte moved from Thomas’s arms into Derek’s. The same height as her husband, Derek encased her in his arms like a warm vise. After a prolonged embrace, he slowly released her.

  “You look good,” he said, suddenly serious. “We missed you. My wife missed you intolerably. We’re glad you’re back.”

  Charlotte’s throat closed up. Her five-year absence came back in a wave of regret.

  “Darling, I forbid you from reducing poor Charlotte to tears,” Elizabeth lightly admonished her husband.

  Charlotte quickly regained her composure. While the men took up seats in the unoccupied chairs, Charlotte went back to hers.

  The conversation flowed easily, touching mostly on the growing broods they now all had. Elizabeth delicately asked about her time in America. What is it like? Do all Americans really detest the English? Is it true they hide bars of gold under their mattresses?

  No one asked her the one question everyone wanted the answer to, all tiptoeing about the events that had sent her to the shores of America. No one that is until Elizabeth could tiptoe no further, making a cacophony of noise with her question.

  “Won’t you tell us why you left?” she asked quietly, refusing to release Charlotte from her gaze.

  There had already been a lull in the conversation, yet silence still managed to descend upon the room with the force of an avalanche.

  Necks swiveled, some not in her direct vision, craned. The cessation of breaths was a foregone conclusion.

  Charlotte looked around the room and felt enveloped in their love, their utter acceptance. These were her friends, her family. They had never once judged her or Katie. They’d just opened their arms and hearts to two orphaned girls whose lineage mattered naught to them. And it was in that moment of complete clarity, like the sun casting its rays upon a place that had hitherto only known the dark, that she knew she could trust them with her most intimate of secrets. Whatever she said to them would never go beyond these walls.

  She regarded her sister, silently seeking permission, for part of her revelation wasn’t her secret alone and would affect her sister equally. Mute, Katie stared back at her, her expression anxious in her paled countenance. She gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “I have told Alex why I left and now I believe you all deserve to know the truth,” Charlotte announced.

  More silence. She had their ever more focused attention.

  Then the story poured from her and she felt none of the anxiety or fear of judgment and shame she would have a month ago. Once she finished speaking, she scanned their faces to take in their reactions.

  Katie, Missy and Amelia had tears in their eyes. Elizabeth was openly weeping. Derek moved swiftly from his chair to comfort his wife.

  Derek and Thomas were as somber as she’d ever seen them. But it was James, dear, dear James, who looked poleaxed. He swallowed, his pale blue eyes teeming with countless emotions.

  “Charlotte.” He uttered her name in a hoarse voice as if speaking no longer came easy. Slowly, he approached her. Once he stood in front of her, he dropped to one knee.

  Tears stung the back of Charlotte’s eyes as she stared into her brother’s. She’d never seen him like this, so torn, so overcome. He swallowed and blinked rapidly. Slowly, he shook his head to and fro. Not speaking a word, he pulled her into his arms. Charlotte lost her composure then, sobbing against his shoulder.

  He could have held her for seconds or minutes, time held no relevancy. Finally, when her tears ceased to fall and Charlotte lifted her eyes and looked around, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

  Thomas and Derek cleared their throats and set about straightening coats that required no attention and the women availed themselves to their handkerchiefs, dabbing tears from their eyes.

  James came to his feet, his brows furrowed in concern. “But who would write such a letter. Who could have possibly known?”

  “I believe it was the dowager—your mother,” Charlotte whispered, as if that could reduce the impact.

  “My mother?”

  “His mother?”

  Missy and James spoke in unison.

  “She is the one person who despised me and Katie more than anyone I know. Who else could it have been?” Charlotte glanced at her sister, who stared back at her neither affirming nor contesting her assertion.

  James gave a short laugh, but not one of amusement. “No, you don’t understand. If my mother had had this kind of information in her grasp, there would have been no threatening letters, no warning at all. She would have used it to destroy you. And the way she was after my father died, she wouldn’t have given a whit if she’d hurt me and Christopher in the process.”

  No. No. No.

  Oh God, this was the last thing she wanted to hear. A niggling voice inside her head had told her very much the same thing, starting on her journey to America. The same whispers had started when she knew she had to come back. It was in learning of the dowager’s death that she’d let other voices reassure her otherwise. Assure her that she was safe, that the threat was in the past.

  “Are you certain?” Still hope prevailed in her whispered voice.

  James looked grim but certain. “I know my mother and I know what she was capable of. And even if she had written such a letter, she would have tried to force you and Catherine from my life, not merely prevent you from wedding Cartwright.”

  Missy’s grave expression said she agreed.

  If what James said was true, that meant her nightmare wasn’t over.

  Who had written the letter and what had been the real intent behind it? If Alex had had other women, she might have thought it was one of them. But she hadn’t heard a hint of anyone back then and now.

  “That means whoever wrote the letter may still be out there,” Charlotte said, regarding her sister. Now, Catherine looked as panicked as she herself felt. The feeling of security she’d had upon hearing of the dowager’s death vanished like a wispy breath of air.

  “But who would do such a thing?” Elizabeth asked, distressed.

  “I think the real question is what is their motive?” Thomas interjected. “If their goal was to ruin you, why haven’t they done so up to now? I mean, it has been five years.”

  “Perhaps they succeeded in their intended goal, which was to stop her from wedding Alex,” Amelia replied.

  The room fell silent as everyone seemed to consider this. Immediately Charlotte’s thoughts went to the duke and duchess. Was that something either would do? They certainly hadn’t hidden their feelings about the match. And they did have the money and influence to dig up that kind of information.

  But Mrs. Henley had said she’d been the only person who knew of their relationship to the fifth Earl of Windmere. Their mother had been dismissed from the house when she was in her fifth month, just as she began to show.

  Desperate and destitute, their mother had prevailed upon their father, who had put her up in a home in the country. Upon her death, he’d hired a nursemaid and a nanny, who had cared for them until he sent them off to boarding school.

  Even the nursemaid and the nanny didn’t know their mother’s identity. Which left no one.

  “Katie, do you think Mrs. Henley ever breathed a word of it to anyone?” Once assured of the woman’s loyalty, Charlotte now wondered.

  Her sister stared at her blankly, dazed for a moment before shaking her head emphatically. “No, she would not. Mrs. Henley was an honorable woman and fiercely loyal to our mother. If she said she shared this information with no one, then I believe it with all my heart.”

  “I shall get to the bottom of this.” James looked quite d
etermined.

  “What are you going to do?” Charlotte hoped he wasn’t about to stir the hornet’s nest. Maybe the author was long gone and the threat of exposure gone as well.

  “I’m going to find out who sent the letter,” James replied.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex was weary of London and desperately wanted to return home. He’d expected the matter with his will to require his presence there for a day, two when he’d realized he hadn’t made any provisions in his will for Charlotte.

  But the solicitor’s office hadn’t received verification of his marriage papers from the general register’s office, therefore his new will could not be drawn up. He didn’t know what was taking the whole bloody thing so long. His cousin was to have sent the papers to London after Alex had them sent to him express. That had been four weeks ago.

  It was on the third day that he’d been able to secure a meeting with Mr. Shelton at the register’s office, and in whose small, cluttered office he currently sat.

  “I’m trying to ascertain why the verification of my marriage isn’t forthcoming to my solicitor’s office. They requested it weeks ago.”

  Mr. Shelton pushed back into a chair that seemed too small for his rotund form. He inhaled a deep breath, straining the buttons of his black-and-blue striped waistcoat. “Lord Avondale, I too am trying to determine the problem.”

  “Do you or do you not have the papers?” Alex spoke in a level voice, trying his damnedest to not let his worry show. Rightfully, his response would be irritation if everything was above board.

  “That is the thing, my lord, we do have them here. The problem is as far as I can ascertain, they’ve only been recently filed. When they were requested, my clerk searched the records filed in 1859. It was only today we discovered them filed only one month ago. We are in the process of contacting the parsonage where you married to discover if there was a delay in forwarding your papers. And if so why.”

  Alex breathed a little easier. Things weren’t shaping up as badly as they could. When they contacted his cousin, Alan would merely state that given the confusion with the London ceremony, the marriage papers hadn’t been forwarded. Hopefully, that would satisfy Mr. Shelton and his boss, Mr. Graham, who was currently the general register’s head.

  “Precisely how long will I have to wait for that to be accomplished?” Alex asked in a voice that suggested he was exercising enormous patience. “I should like to have the matter with my solicitors settled before I depart for home tomorrow.”

  Mr. Shelton angled his head and his meaty fingers stroked his fleshy cheek. “As your circumstances are pressing, my lord, I shall have my clerk draw up a letter that should satisfy your solicitor. In the meanwhile, I’ll discuss the matter with Mr. Graham. I don’t expect there will be a problem but one never knows.”

  Alex stood, placing his hat on his head as he grasped the wooden handle of his umbrella. For the last two days, so much rain had poured from the skies that he was sure the paired boarding of Noah’s Ark was imminent. That afternoon, the rain seemed particularly relentless.

  Hurriedly, Mr. Shelton clambered to his feet and with that the smallness of the office became more evident.

  “What is of utmost importance to me is that my wife and child are properly provided for. I appreciate your help in this matter.”

  Alex stuck out his hand, which Mr. Shelton swiftly grasped, shaking it with deferential enthusiasm.

  “The pleasure is mine, my lord.”

  Alex sincerely hoped that it would be. Things may have been settled for now, but he wasn’t entirely in the clear.

  For the next four days, Charlotte received daily notes by messenger from Alex. He remained in London, disgruntled by the tone of his messages, trying to settle business which involved a matter concerning his solicitor. He didn’t say what, but he did say more problems had arisen.

  Nicholas missed him dearly but he couldn’t miss him half as much as she herself did. She’d been on pins and needles waiting for him to come home so they could talk. He did promise to be back in time for the ball, which was the following evening.

  Charlotte had heard his parents were in town. Apparently they had a cottage—as River Court with its seven bedchambers was fondly called—in the vicinity. They hadn’t called on them, which was just as well with Alex gone. In any case, she would see them at the ball.

  Charlotte spent most of her days at her brother’s house catching up with Elizabeth and Amelia along with Missy and Katie. She’d met their respective children that first night. She was now Aunt Lottie to the lot of them. The place sounded like a school yard most of the time, even when the children played outside. Their voices carried on a good wind and it had been windy the last few days.

  James had hired an investigator to look into the matter of the letter. He’d assured her the man was discreet and he’d only asked him to look for a person who might have enough of a grudge against her and Katie to harm them.

  Her sister didn’t believe they’d ever discover who sent the letter. She thought James was wasting his money and told him exactly that. He ignored her, telling her it was his money to waste if he wished.

  The day of the ball, Charlotte received another message from Alex assuring her he’d be arriving late afternoon—just in time to get ready. Which meant they wouldn’t have time for their talk. But at least he was finally coming home.

  As it was, it wasn’t until just before seven that evening that her husband made an appearance. The housemaid informed her of his arrival while her sister’s French maid, Esther—whose services Katie had so magnanimously offered as it appeared the girl must have dressed hair in another life (perhaps that of Marie Antoinette)—created miracles with her curly locks.

  Her heart had gone from skipping a beat in anticipation every few minutes or so to thrashing about in her chest as if trapped and its only hope of survival was to escape. She willed herself to breathe in a normal manner but her body demanded autonomy from the more judicious aspects of her and so her breathing trotted gleefully along with her misbehaving heart. Charlotte could barely sit still such was the calamity going on inside her after the housemaid’s announcement and subsequent exit.

  Once her sister’s maid skillfully coaxed the final hair into place, Charlotte admired the labor of almost an hour of work in the vanity mirror. With half the length of her hair pinned up at her nape in something that resembled an elegant chignon, the maid had managed to keep her natural curls in place. The resulting effect was breath stealing and Charlotte could not have been more pleased.

  Profuse praise for her work was followed by equally profuse merci madam and de riens. The girl departed shortly thereafter and with a happy sigh, Charlotte examined herself in the mirror one final time. She had gained back the weight she’d lost so her face no longer had that strained look. Her complexion was clear and her hair, glorious.

  As for her gown; well Miss Foster had truly outdone herself. Her creation was sheer magic. It was certainly one of a kind, made of a pale green silk, the torso fitted and embellished with small, perfectly concentric pearls. The skirt was three tiered with a white chiffon overskirt. With the still-cool temperatures, they’d decided on pagoda sleeves capped at the shoulders and wrist-length silk gloves the exact color of her dress.

  It had been years since she’d worn something like this—since she’d had cause to. She felt like a princess. Now it was time to go and meet her prince.

  Charlotte was halfway down the stairs when Alex appeared in the foyer. Her next step faltered, forcing her to grip the railing more tightly. She hadn’t prepared herself for the sight of Alex in black tails and tie formal wear.

  Heat collected in her core where she felt the deprivation of the last two weeks and then some. The white of his shirt made his skin look all the darker by comparison.

  He watched her intently as she descended the stairs toward him but his expression was closed. She couldn’t tell if he approved of her appearance or not. Couldn’t tell whether he was
glad to see her.

  Charlotte reached the bottom. “You look quite dashing.” The lightness of her tone belied the mad pounding of her heart.

  For a moment, she didn’t think he’d return the compliment, although something flickered in his eyes. His gaze swept her, pausing here and lingering there before returning to her face. That is when she saw the heat smoldering in his eyes. Lust in human form.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice slightly graveled.

  “Thank you.” Now she spoke as if short of breath.

  “Come, the carriage is waiting,” he said when it appeared they’d be content to stand forever practically eating each other up with their eyes.

  In the clarence, they sat across from one another, he now sporting a black great coat and she having donned her new cashmere mantle.

  “Were you able to get the matter resolved to your satisfaction?” Because of course they should speak and not just continue to openly covet the other. They were civilized.

  His nod came in the shadow of a movement. “Indeed. It wasn’t until after I arrived at the solicitor’s office that I realized we have no marriage contract and I hadn’t made provisions for you in my will. The initial changes only dealt with Nicholas. I’ve now taken care of that. You’ll be happy to know, you shall be amply provided for upon my death.”

  For a moment, Charlotte hung suspended in a state between joy and horror. Horror won quite handily.

  “Please, do not say such things. Not even as a joke.” Her thoughts immediately went to his unintentional dunking in the Thames and the fever that had come close to finishing what the river had not.

  They could barely see one another for the sun had long sunk below the horizon and the moon had turned its dark side to Reading. But her sight adjusted enough to the dark to make out the varied gray outline of his form.

  After a pause, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Do not worry, I don’t intend to expire for a great while. My son is not fully grown and I expect to see him married with children of his own.”