The ballroom took his breath away. Even for an unsentimental reformed criminal, it was everything he had ever hoped Letty would have. Cavenray had spared no expense to make certain the ton knew she was his sister and fully accepted as such.
He stepped further into the room. Servants were placing finishing touches to the flower arrangements that perfumed the large space with the promise of spring and coloured the otherwise golden walls and wooden floor with bright sprays of pink, white and yellow. When the chandeliers were lit, it would be a spectacular display of spring and sunshine, which were everything Letty represented to him.
Cavenray had been so welcoming, would she have had a better life if he had taken her to him? Guilt assailed him but he had to push it aside. He had done the best he could and he knew better than to dwell on regrets. If he were to do so, he would have no further will to live. Continuing his life despite the pain was his penance, and he must do so while minimizing the pain to those he loved.
He heard the butler greeting someone and turned to see who had arrived: Yardley, from the sound of it. Was Charlotte there? He did not know if he could face her yet and remain strong. It would be far better for both of them if he could hide in the crowd.
Footsteps echoed in the hall behind him and he turned again to see Yardley surveying the room.
“Your Grace.” He bowed.
“Sir David.” The Duke held out his hand as he reached David’s side. “I do think we are past formalities, no?”
David inclined his head with acknowledgement. He did not think the civilities would extend to wedding Lady Charlotte, unfortunately.
“Congratulations on your pardon. I have no doubt it is a relief.”
“It is. I wish I could put it to rest in my mind.”
“Hopefully, you will in due course. We found no other ties, beyond Dunn and Prescott, to a deeper organization. Reverend Howard’s family had looked for a legitimate source to distribute the new cartridges, but no proper Briton would ever consent or admit to doing so publicly.”
“I still cannot fathom what led Prescott to betray the country he swore to defend.”
“Is not greed enough?” Yardley looked at him with eyebrows raised.
“It was certainly my downfall in my youth. Now that I have more than I need, it matters not.”
“Would that we could all go back and undo the follies of our youth. I know I would.”
It was David’s turn to show surprise. A duke admitting to mistakes? This Duke had assuredly dispelled many of his misconceptions. “I have not properly thanked you for your assistance.”
“And I have not properly thanked you for saving my sister’s life.”
“She would not have been in that position were it not for me.”
Yardley let out a small chuckle. “An honourable sentiment, Douglas, but you and I both know my sister put herself in that position.”
David gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. He was not going to argue. He still believed it was his fault she had been put at risk. He had never before felt true terror until that night, when he saw Prescott trying to force her under the water. She could have died because of me. His throat constricted at the thought.
“For what it is worth, I wanted to apologize. I was wrong about you, and if my sister wants you, I would be honoured to call you brother,” the Duke said, a catch in his throat.
“I do not know what to say. I am beyond astonished by your words. Yet the fact remains I am the most unsuitable man for her.”
“She does not seem to think so. I do not think so any longer. I will admit I misjudged you.”
David shook his head. “Regardless of the honour she does me, I have to refuse. How could I bring my shame upon anyone I care for? Heap my sins upon the heads of my children?”
“It seems to me you have been burdened by your sins long enough. We are all ready to forgive you. When will you forgive yourself?”
“I do not know if I can,” he whispered as he clinched his jaw to control his emotion.
They could hear the crowd gathering, and both turned to the door.
“One last favour, if you will. I am concerned about Charlotte. She has not been the same since the incident with Prescott, but she will not talk to me. Would you be willing to try?”
“I do not think that would be wise, under the circumstances. Perhaps she will confide in one of her friends?”
“Consider it. I have watched her riding herself silly in trying to forget. She no longer takes pleasure in food, conversation or novels. She stares out of the window for hours as though oblivious to the world around her. I want my sister back, and I think you are the man to do it.”
“You have false hope in my abilities.”
“I do not think I do.” Yardley shook his hand with a smile and walked away, leaving David staring, dumbstruck, at a ship’s itinerary left behind in his hand.
Chapter 17
Just once, I want the fairy tale to happen for me. I would give Romeo and Juliet a different ending, and make the world around them cease to matter. Instead, I am forced to try to salvage my dignity and do what is best for me.—9 April
Through the entire dinner, David tried to muster his courage. He had been spared from sitting next to Charlotte, but he could see her. She was dressed in a lavender gossamer silk gown. She did look pale, and she was too thin. Her curls had been tamed into a simple chignon. Was heartache truly the cause or was it the after effects of almost dying? Whatever the reason, he felt the overwhelming urge to make it right.
She was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her new look would attract a great deal of attention. Even he knew she was very à la mode. During dinner, the other men had looked at her with appreciation and he felt another surge of jealousy. Could Yardley possibly be correct that she did want him, despite everything? Was it time to forget his past and make a new life with her?
What did Yardley mean by giving him this ship’s passage? Did it mean Charlotte was to be on board and Yardley wanted him to go after her? Was she running away? So many questions…perhaps he could speak with her and convince her not to leave because of him. If anyone should leave, he should be the one to do so.
Too distracted to do justice to his dinner partner—a pretty young miss with dark ringlets and copious amounts of lace—who was flirting unabashedly and praising his heroism, he grew tempted to spill his wine in her lap. Placing another bite of glazed ham in his mouth, he nodded and smiled while mentally chewing over Yardley’s approval. Is that what had been holding him back? Before, the Duke had not approved, therefore David was unworthy? He thought it was more than that, but he felt the smallest glint of hope for the first time.
Dinner was too long, yet too short. He was relieved to be rid of the tedious company, but he was not ready to make a decision. He was not so confident Charlotte would have him now. He had rejected her in a most complete manner. She had been willing to take him as he was before... but now, was he too late?
Fortunately, he was spared the receiving line. There were enough dukes, duchesses, lords and ladies for his presence to be superfluous. He found an alcove from which to observe, and decided to stay in the shadows unless it was necessary to perform some service for Letty. He had no wish to distract from her momentous day.
It felt as though there were thousands of people in the ballroom. Everyone had poured forth to see the old Duke’s by-blow. It had been quite a story, last autumn, when her existence had been made known at the time of Lord Brennan’s demise. Society thrived on a good scandal, and this family had provided endless pollen for it to buzz about for the entire Season.
David’s gaze constantly drifted towards Charlotte. Like a fly to honey, he needed to know where she was at every moment. Was she happy? Was she being adored as she ought? He had not seen her dance yet. Had no one asked her? He could not imagine she would lack for partners with the attention she had stirred. He heard her name as often as he did Letty’s and it was the latter’s introduction to Society.
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“Go and ask her, Sir David. You have not taken your eyes from her the entire evening,” the Duchess of Yardley said, floating up beside him.
“What if she says no?” He did not pretend not to know of whom she was speaking.
“Make it so she cannot refuse,” she answered simply.
“That is a low trick, even for me,” he said appreciatively.
“Yardley is to dance with her next. It is not a dirty trick if done for the right reasons.”
“Next will be my dance with Letty.”
“So lead Letty to Yardley at the end of the set. Charlotte could hardly refuse you, and Yardley will dance with Letty. A perfect scenario, non?”
“Remind me never to cross swords with you, your Grace.” She laughed and glided away, no doubt towards her next victim.
David led Letty out for a country dance. She looked radiant in a bright jonquil India muslin with a fine burgundy design woven through the fabric.
“I have hardly seen you in the last few weeks, Uncle.”
“I hope that means you have been enjoying your time in London.”
“It is quite different from our little island, is it not?”
“Yes. Do you miss it?” he asked, at once concerned.
“I miss the weather,” she laughed. “But I would not trade my current situation for anything. I have you, but I also have my mother and brother.”
“I am very sorry if I did wrong by you, Letty.”
“Never apologize! I did not say that to make you suffer. I understand why you did what you did. I would not have lived to see this day otherwise.”
He followed her gaze to where Mr. Davenport was dancing with the Duchess of Cavenray.
“Does he make you happy, Letty?”
“He does, and he welcomes Mother. I hope you are satisfied with the match.”
“How could I not be? Your happiness is all I ever wanted for you.”
“I know, Uncle. But what of you? You finally have what you have wanted for so long. Can you find your own happiness now?”
“I do not know if I am capable or deserving of your kind of happiness, my dear.”
She cast him a look of reprimand.
“I do think some time away might be good for me. London is a difficult place to think.”
“For one unused to such environs and such attention, yes,” she agreed.
“I will return for the blessed event.”
“Thank you, Uncle. That would mean the world to me, as would you finding your own happiness.” She cast a meaningful look at Charlotte as he led her to where that lady was standing with Yardley.
He could see her straighten when he neared, as though bracing herself for battle. She looked so beautiful, he could scarce muster up the courage to ask her.
“Lady Charlotte, may I have this dance?” He held out his hand in invitation, and for a few brief moments, he thought she might actually refuse.
Charlotte quickly masked her surprise, though David could sense her trepidation. He had indeed placed her in a position where she could not refuse, not in front of so many watchful eyes. The strains of a waltz began and David had no doubt that had been arranged just as his partner had. There were greater forces at work here than his own desires.
Her hand was shaking when she placed it in his and he led her out to the floor. “Look at me, Charlotte.”
Her eyes made it as far as his neckcloth. “I do not understand. Why are you doing this? There is no need to dance with me, for appearances or out of pity, even if Maili or Jolie tried to force you.”
“I assure you this is nothing of the sort. I wish to dance with you.” It was the truth. He placed his hand on her waist as the strings began to thrum the sounds of the waltz. It brought back the moment in December, when he had first touched her... touched her while knowing what a mistake it was, besides being unworthy and unsuitable.
Due to some words of doubt placed into his head this evening, and watching her become a shadow of herself, he had gone against his better judgement and now held her in his arms. He was a weak man and did not know how many more times he could be strong enough to send her away.
Did she still want him? Would she tell him she was leaving?
“I suppose congratulations are in order, sir. You received your pardon and so maintain your title and the estate?”
She wished to make small talk. Very well. He could try.
“I did, thank you.”
“Will you return to Crossings? That is the name of your estate, is it not?”
He nodded. “I have not yet decided. And yourself? Do you intend to enjoy the Season?” He still felt strongly that Lady Charlotte deserved better than he, and her deserving prince would arrive to sweep her away.
“I am leaving Town,” she said, so quietly he had to strain to hear her words.
He looked down at her, but she still would not look him in the eye. He took his hand from her waist and lifted her chin.
“Not because of me, I hope? You should not be the one to leave.”
“I intend to visit my mother. I have never met her new husband, nor seen the Continent. It seems as good a time as any.” She left many words unsaid, he was sure.
“What of your suitors? I have seen many eligible gentlemen hovering near you tonight. May I say also, you look beautiful, although I fear you are fading away before my eyes. I thought you perfect the way you were. Are.”
She shook her head as if fighting off tears. He took the opportunity to twirl her out to the terrace where it had all begun for them.
“Please take me back inside.” Her chin quivered as tears streamed down her face. Is this what he did to her?
“What can I do? What can I say to make you happy again?” He felt desperate to make her smile, to laugh. If he could take that night in December back, he would do so and stay out of her life.
“Please do not do this.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Charlotte.”
“It is too late for that.”
Charlotte brushed past David and went straight for the front door. She would send a note of apology later, but she could not stay here one moment longer. She would send the carriage back for Benedict and Jolie.
Thank God she already had a passage to Malta. She did not think she could have made herself leave him otherwise. Why was he being nice to her tonight? And why must love hurt so much? If he had truly reciprocated her feelings, he would have fought for her instead of trying to encourage her towards other men. Could he not understand there were no other men; that there never would be?
Knowing that, day by day, the pain would become a little more bearable was small comfort at the moment. When she arrived back at the town house, Chapman had already packed her trunks. The maid helped Charlotte out of her gown and she slid into her bed without a word to the woman. Chapman had been with her long enough to know better than to shatter her thinly veiled composure by talking.
The next morning she dressed in a violet travelling costume and tried to greet the day with new optimism. She would have to say farewell to some friends and family, for there were a few to whom she could not simply send a note. No one would understand why she had to leave. Even her brother had objected but would not hold her back. She had seen the pity in his eyes and that was the hardest to bear. Thankfully, he had not renewed his offer of parading more suitors in front of her in the way he had attempted his own marriage selection.
Charlotte had to admit she had enjoyed the surprise on her friends’ faces when she announced she was leaving. She never did anything unexpected and certainly never on impulse. Until the moment she stepped out of the carriage onto the docks, she really had not considered what she was doing. Chapman had groaned and objected since informed where they were going, but the maid had refused to stay behind when Charlotte had offered.
When tears threatened, Charlotte forced herself to think about blue waters, sunshine and warm breezes. Her mother had written also of delicious foods and fine wines. Perhaps that would c
ause Charlotte’s appetite to return. She now possessed the body she had always dreamed about, yet it was no comfort for her aching soul.
Had The Jolie not gone down in flames, thanks to her, she would have been sailing on her brother’s yacht. Instead, he had arranged passage on The Wind, owned by Lord Harris, Jolie’s sister’s husband. He was to captain the ship himself.
Looking up at the large three-masted ship, she surveyed her home for the next few weeks before boarding. Seamen were swarming the deck and ropes, preparing to set sail, and her trunks were being carried across the gangway. With one last farewell to Benedict, she crossed the plank herself, hoping it was a bridge to a new beginning.
Her wood-panelled cabin was fine enough, with a small bunk and dressing table, and she did not care who the other passengers were as she had no intention of mingling. Three weeks of moping in her cabin should see her sufficiently sick of it in time to greet her mother properly with a smile.
As the boat began to sail, she was unprepared for the sensation of swaying and bobbing as they left the harbour. She found she could not walk without falling into something, so she sat on her bunk to catch her balance. At the moment, she could not bear to watch what she was leaving behind. She knew he would not be there waiting for her.
Lady Harris had gifted Charlotte a journal, in which to keep track of her travels. Anjou mentioned having been given one at a similar time in her life and it had helped her through similar trials. Perhaps it would help. Charlotte had always dabbled in her diary, but had never done any serious writing or pouring out of her heart. She always suspected someone would read her innermost thoughts some day, if she did—and that was an unnerving thought.
“Who cares if they do?” she asked aloud. If journaling was the way to mend her spirit and find herself again, she would happily dribble whatever came to mind onto the pages of this book.
Unfortunately, she stared at the page, unable to think of anything to write beyond the obvious, and the words felt too mundane to bother. She was escaping her life on a ship to Malta. She had no more dreams at the moment except to pray she could hope again some day.
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