A Wicked Scandal For The Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  It wasn’t Lord Ambrose, but somehow, that ended up being even worse. Instead, it was a messenger who came to tell them that the hold on the trial had been overruled. Whatever Eric had done to stall, it hadn’t been enough.

  She swallowed hard at the thought that her father could be found guilty in the week.

  She had to know what Eric was planning. If he’d had enough time to find the real perpetrator. If he hadn’t, perhaps there was something that she could do to help him.

  Either way, and as improper as it might be, she wanted him to comfort her. To promise her that everything was going to be all right. Was that too much to ask?

  “Charlene, where are you going?” Helene snapped as Charlene rushed from the room. The rain had thankfully abated as she raced across the city. That said, she certainly splashed enough water onto her dress that she was pretty well drenched regardless.

  She pounded on the door of the duke’s manor. A startled-looking servant answered. “Lord Eric is not here this evening,” he told her.

  “Please, you have to tell me – where is he?” Charlene gasped. She had a stitch in her side from running across town, but she would run ten times the distance at twice the speed if it meant that she could save her father’s life.

  “I’m not sure that he would wish for me to divulge his whereabouts,” the man said, looking as though he wished to close the door on her.

  “Please,” Charlene begged. “It’s a matter of life and death. You must help me.”

  The man looked pityingly at her. Charlene knew that she must be quite a sight: hair falling out of its coif, dress rain-speckled, and tears glistening on her cheeks.

  Finally, the man relented. “He is at the theatre tonight,” he said in a low voice, leaning in conspiratorially. “You did not hear that from me.”

  “Thank you!” Charlene blurted out, of half a mind to give the man a hug. Wouldn’t that given them all something to talk about. Instead, she turned on her heel and raced off again, this time turning her steps towards the theatre.

  She only hoped that she would successfully be able to find him there. And that the Lady Annabelle wouldn’t be there beside him.

  She ducked her head self-consciously under the stairs as she hurried up the steps to the theatre. She knew she looked a mess, but there were much greater concerns at the moment. Except that when she reached the entryway, they would not allow her to pass.

  “Miss Ellington,” one of the men at the door sighed. He took her arm and led her off to the side, clearly trying to shield her from making a spectacle of herself.

  Charlene tried to pull away from him. “Wait, stop!” she cried. “I need to go inside.”

  “Miss Ellington,” the man repeated, sounding pained, “you are in no fit state to grace our theatre tonight.” He looked pointedly at her soiled dress. He paused, lowering his voice. “Even if you didn’t look worse for wear, you must admit you’d likely be uncomfortable during the show?”

  He was attempting to give her a way out with her dignity somewhat intact. But Charlene wasn’t having any of it.

  “I don’t wish to see the play,” she snapped. “I simply need to speak to the Duke of Havenport.”

  There was a hushed silence. Charlene was aware of the fact that people had halted on their way into the theatre and were staring at her. She ignored them.

  “Please,” she said to the man from the theatre. “Could you find the Duke and ask him to meet me here? That is all that I’m asking.”

  The man looked reluctant. “Lord Eric entered the theatre some time ago, with the Lady Annabelle on his arm,” he said slowly. “I very much doubt that they would wish to be disturbed. The play should be starting soon.”

  Charlene gave a bitter laugh. “So now you will not even allow me to send a message?” she asked incredulously. She looked around at the gathered people. “I might remind you that my dear father is currently being held for a crime that he hasn’t committed. Yet you all seem to be conspiring to make certain that the Duke and I cannot prove his innocence.”

  She paused, fury boiling hot inside of her. “If this, the corruption that runs through this town, corruption that you all have a part of, is what ruins my name, then so be it. I want nothing more to do with any of you anyway. I only hope your daughters don’t one day have to face the same circumstances as I.”

  She held her head high as she turned to go down the steps. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind her.

  “Charlene!” It was Eric’s unmistakable voice that rang out.

  Charlene froze, wondering who it was who had told him that she was there asking to see him. Whoever it was, she only hoped she could thank them when this whole dirty mess was through.

  She turned back to Eric, who was staring down at her in horror from a couple steps above her. “Charlene, what has happened to you?” he asked in a hushed voice. “You look…” He trailed off, seeming lost for words.

  “I’ve seen sewer rats who look better than her,” Lady Annabelle said snidely from his side. She looked furious at the interruption of her night, and she put a hand on Eric’s arm, keeping him from moving closer to Charlene. “Darling, we ought to return to our seats,” she insisted.

  Eric waved her off, though, stepping further down the stairs. “Charlene, did something happen?”

  “The trial,” Charlene finally managed, feeling as though she might begin to sob at any moment. Of course she had been foolish to trust Eric. Here she was, hoping that he would save her father’s life, and he was out at the theatre with another woman. She ought to have known better.

  Which meant that her only option was to go crawling back to Lord Ambrose and beg his forgiveness. Beg for a man she despised to take her hand in marriage. What more could she do?

  “I know,” Eric said, but before he could say anything else, Lady Annabelle came down the steps towards her, fire in her gaze.

  “Yes, the trial,” she said, pitching her voice so that all the onlookers could hear. “The trial, because your father is a murderer. Isn’t that what we’ve all heard? That there is so much evidence against your father that it would be impossible to prove otherwise?”

  Annabelle narrowed her eyes at Charlene. “I’m simply grateful to know that once your father swings, you’ll never darken a doorstep in this town again. You will be a pauper, and you will never have a chance to come near Eric again.”

  Charlene stumbled a half-step back as though she had been slapped. “He’s not going to hang,” she whispered, looking at Eric for confirmation. “He’s innocent.”

  “If you’re crazy enough to believe that, then you’re probably crazy enough to murder as well,” Annabelle said haughtily. “I wonder if perhaps you ought to be locked up as well.”

  To Charlene’s horror, there were some murmurs of assent from the crowd. She ducked her head, hoping that they couldn’t see the tears. Suddenly, she realized how hopeless things truly were. She wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to realize that she couldn’t rely on Eric’s help to save her from this situation.

  Except that suddenly, Eric stepped in. “Lady Annabelle, that is quite enough,” he said tartly. “Charlene, I know that your father is innocent. You have to trust me when I say that I’m working on a plan to save him, although I cannot get into the details here.”

  But Charlene was shaking her head as despair welled up inside of her. “The trouble is that no one will ever believe us – my father or I,” she whispered. “Even if you provide undisputable proof that he had nothing to do with Lord Henrich’s death, he will still be branded a murderer.”

  She knew, then, that the only chance she had at redemption was what Lord Ambrose had told her. She had to agree to marry the Marquess. If Eric could prove her father innocent, that would only save the man’s life. Marrying Lord Ambrose was the only way to truly save her family.

  As that realization settled in her mind, all her panic fled, and her tears stopped. She lifted her chin proudly. “You do not need to help my father,” she s
aid, her voice ringing out amongst those gathered there. “I release you from any and all obligation.”

  Eric gaped at her. “Charlene,” he said insistently, reaching out to catch her arm as she made to turn away from him. Her skin was like ice beneath his fingers. “I know who the true murderer was.”

  The young woman shook her head, though, carefully pulling her arm free. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, giving a bitter laugh. She looked around at the crowd. “You’ve already made up your minds that he’s innocent and that I’m crazy. Don’t lie and tell me that you haven’t.” She took in a deep breath and looked back at Eric, trying her best to memorize every feature of his face.

  This might be the last time she saw him. A few stolen kisses: that was all the love that she would ever have in her life. The Marquess, she was sure, would not allow her anywhere near the Duke of Havenport.

  “Goodbye, Lord Eric,” she said quietly. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I know that you tried your best.”

  “Don’t,” the duke blurted out as she turned away. He knew exactly why she was saying goodbye to him, knew exactly what she’d made her mind up to do. He couldn’t let her marry the Marquess. He couldn’t let Lord Ambrose win.

  But Charlene didn’t pause, and as she rushed away from them, the crowd moved closer, hemming him in. He couldn’t get to her in time, and he knew then that he had lost her for good.

  Lady Annabelle immediately grabbed Eric’s arm, leading him firmly up the steps towards the theatre. “We’re going to miss the show,” she purred, clearly thinking that she had won.

  Eric shook his arm free, however. “The last thing I want to do tonight is go to the theatre,” he said in disgust. “Pardon me, but I have to go.”

  He was certain there was nothing more that he could do tonight to help prove Dr. Ellington’s innocence or to track down Harvey Parsons, but the last thing he wanted was to sit around in the theatre pretending as though everything was all right and that he didn’t hate society as a whole with a passion right then.

  If this destroyed his reputation, then so be it. He stalked off alone towards home, the crowd parting silently to let him past

  Chapter 24

  Lord Eric Cumberland, Duke of Havenport

  Eric knew that there was nothing he could do that night regarding Harvey Parsons, so halfway back to his manor, he changed directions. He remembered the look in Charlene’s eyes as she had darted away from the theatre. She had looked as though she had finally lost all hope. It had cut Eric to the core.

  He had to make sure that she was all right. He had to at least make sure that she made it home all right. He had never seen her look so bedraggled before, as though she was totally out of her mind with sorrow. He hated that things had come to this.

  He only hoped she wouldn’t rush straight to the Marquess’ place to announce that she had accepted his proposal. But as Eric rushed past Lord Ambrose’s home, the place was thankfully unlit. The Marquess wasn’t home. Perhaps he had been at the theatre as well.

  Eric certainly hoped not, as the last thing he wished was for word of that scene to reach the chief investigator before Eric made certain that Charlene was okay.

  He knocked on the door to Charlene’s home and was surprised when Helene herself answered it. The woman looked worried. “Lord Eric,” she said, wringing her hands. “Perchance might you have tidings of Charlene?”

  Upon closer inspection, the woman appeared exhausted.

  “Is she not here?” Eric asked worriedly.

  Helene shook her head. “We received word that the trial had been set to this week, and she rushed out of here. I thought she might have gone to see you. I sent out all the servants to search for her, but they all have yet to return.”

  Eric winced. “She came to the theatre to find me,” he told the woman.

  “Ohh,” the woman sighed, looking to the side. Her mouth drew into an unhappy line. “And I suppose that there was a scene? But now why are you here?”

  “She was quite distraught when she left,” Eric said slowly. “She was quite distraught when she arrived, I suppose, is a better way to phrase it.” He paused. “She ran away, and I was hoping that she had come back here. I wanted to make certain that she was safe.”

  If anything, Helene looked even more worried. “She hasn’t returned here,” the woman said, shaking her head.

  “Is there anywhere that you believe she might have gone?” Eric asked. “Perhaps to the comfort of a friend?”

  Helene shook her head again. “None of her supposed friends will have anything to do with her now, with the scandal that is hanging over her head.”

  Eric winced. “I do apologize for all of that,” he said. “I was simply trying to help with the doctor’s case. I know we didn’t do things the way that protocol demands, but I promise you, I did not take advantage of her innocence.”

  Helene waved away his apologies. “I never believed that you would. And believe me when I say how grateful I am to have a man of your esteem looking into my brother’s case.” She paused. “He will swing either way, though. Lord Ambrose will make sure of it. They need someone to blame.”

  “He will not hang,” Eric said sharply. “I know who truly committed the crime, and I am putting together a case strong enough to refute any evidence that Lord Ambrose brings to the trial. You have to convince Miss Charlene that marrying the Marquess is not the only way.”

  Helene shook her head, a small, sad smile on her lips. “I can see why my niece likes you,” she said quietly. “Even if you manage to save her father, however, a marriage to Lord Ambrose is the only way for Charlene to save her reputation and have a future in this city.”

  She looked away from the duke. “I wish that there were some other way. I truly do. However, you must let her go.” She paused. “I believe that Charlene has enough fire to last her through her days as the Marquess’ wife.”

  “Shouldn’t have to simply survive her days,” Eric said, outraged. “She deserves happiness.”

  Helene gave him a sharp look. “Happiness?” she scoffed. “There is no happiness in a life such as this. There is simply duty, to one’s family. Perhaps she may find heaven at the end of her suffering. That is the best we may all hope for.”

  Eric stared at the woman for another long moment, feeling even more agitated and frustrated. But he could tell from Helene’s impassive look that there was no arguing with her. Let her believe as she believed. He needed to stop wasting time and find Charlene, before it was too late.

  Where else might she have gone? She wasn’t with the Marquess, and she wasn’t at home.

  Suddenly, he remembered something that Charlene had told him in that one letter that she had sent him, so long ago now. She had mentioned a small office that her father kept here in London, for when he had patients to treat on his infrequent visits to the city. The rest of the time, there was an apothecary in the place, if he remembered correctly.

  He wondered if that office still existed. And if so, he wondered if he could find his way there. He had a feeling that that was where Charlene would have run off to.

  Surprisingly enough, it did not take long for him to locate the place, with the help of a friend on the city guard. The doctor’s office wasn’t in the best part of town, but at least the street seemed reasonably clean. Eric wondered if he should be there on his own, especially dressed as he was for the theatre.

  There was no time to go home and change, however. He was certain that he needed to be here tonight, some dark feeling drawing him onwards.

  He made quick work of the lock on the office door. There was no one in the street to see him, thankfully. He slipped inside and lit a candle, searching around the shop. He was surprised to find more of the doctor’s journals in here. They were closed away in one of the drawers. Eric recognized the doctor’s spidery handwriting immediately.

  Clearly Charlene hadn’t been here, or else she would have sent the journals to Eric already. However, even if he hadn’t found Charle
ne yet, he couldn’t help but feel he had scored some victory tonight. Perhaps the clue about Harvey Parsons was somewhere in these journals.

  He turned towards the door just in time for it to slam shut again, after he had left the place cracked open just the tiniest bit. He frowned, wondering if it was an errant burst of wind spilling down the street. Perhaps it would begin to rain again, and he would look just as bedraggled as Charlene.

  He heard a thud outside the door, however, and when he made to push it open, he met with resistance. He frowned, wondering just who might have blocked him inside and to what end. Perhaps the apothecarist had somehow noticed his entry and had blocked him inside until the guard could come?

  He supposed it had been foolish for him to break into the place, especially when, from the lock, it was clear that Charlene wasn’t there.