Highwayman Lover

by Sara Reinke

  Chapter Twelve

  Like a vulture waiting for the inevitable moment of a dying animal’s last, feeble exhalation, James arrived at Darton Hall within hours of Charlotte’s return. She stood at her window, watching his carriage approach the front of the house and wondered who had been quicker— her mother, writing to tell him the news or James, scrambling into his coach and rushing to claim her.

  Charlotte had known he would come. She steeled herself for that moment when Lady Epping would rap against her door to snatch Charlotte in hand, dragging her off to the nearest parish chapel and forcing vows upon her. She watched her mother hurry eagerly down the front steps of the house, her full skirts swelling about her as she approached James’s carriage.

  Charlotte had barricaded herself in her room upon her return from Theydon Hall. Reilly had not come home yet; his presence would have been the only to coax her beyond her threshold, and only then so she could pummel the wits from him. She was seized with fury, dismay, and despair; torn between distraught tears and plowing her fists into the walls, windows, and furniture in her rage.

  “Reilly did this,” she whispered, watching her breath frost the glass pane before her. Her brows furrowed, her eyelashes and cheeks damp with tears. She watched Cheadle disembark from the driver’s perch of the coach, his heavy boots landing in the grass. He walked around the side of the coach, pausing to tip the front corner of his tricorne politely at Lady Epping before opening the door for James.

  “No, lamb,” Una said from behind her. “Kenley did.”

  True to his word, Kenley had dispatched Una to Darton Hall, and though she had not said much about any explanations he might have offered as to her dismissal, she obviously understood fully well what had happened.

  “Kenley did not want to do this,” Charlotte said, turning to Una. “Reilly made him somehow. He said something to him, shamed him, forced him. I do not know what, but I know he did. Kenley did not want to do this.”

  “No, I do not believe he did,” Una said. She sat in a chair before Charlotte’s fireplace, cradling a cup of tea against her palm. She turned, looking toward Charlotte. “He was very upset when I returned from Loughton. When he told me what had happened, I could see plainly that it pained him. I could also see that he had resigned himself to it. No matter the reason, it is set fast in his heart.”

  Una stood, walking toward Charlotte, setting her tea aside on the writing table. “Perhaps he did not want this, lamb, but he has done it still the same. His reasons are his own, as was the choice in the end. There is no one to blame for it.”

  Charlotte looked out the window again in time to see Lady Epping drape her hand against James’s proffered elbow as they walked together toward the threshold. “I will not marry James Houghton,” she whispered.

  Edmond Cheadle remained standing by the coach. He turned his face toward the house, and this time, there was no early morning’s poor light to hide his face in the shadow of his hat brim. He looked up at Charlotte’s window plainly; she saw the corners of his mouth hitch in a fleeting, crooked smile. Charlotte’s brows furrowed, and she whirled away, darting across the room. She fell across her bed in a billowing tangle of skirts and crinolines. She curled into a fetal coil on her side, drawing her hands toward her face, her knees toward her belly.

  “I will not marry him,” she said again, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Mother cannot make me. She does not love me and she cannot make me.”

  “Of course your mother loves you,” Una said, following her to sit on the side of the bed. “Do not behave like an overwrought child, Charlotte. Lady Epping loves you very much. If nothing else proves it, that she has let you go so long in the pursuit of your own chosen husband should without question.”

  Charlotte blinked up at her, stricken and wounded. “How can you say that?”

  Una smiled. “Because it is true,” she said gently. “And you know it, Charlotte.”

  A light tapping at Charlotte’s door drew their gazes. “Do not answer it, Una,” Charlotte whispered, hooking her hand against Una’s. “I do not want to see James. Please, Una. Not now, I just… I cannot.”

  “Charlotte?” her father said through the door, brushing his knuckles against the wood again. “Charlotte, kindly open the door.”

  Una rose, drawing loose of Charlotte’s grasp. Charlotte sat up, dismayed, as Una walked across the room. “Una!” she gasped in protest.

  “Lamb, you cannot lock yourself in here forever in the hopes all of this will simply go away,” Una told her. “And it is your father calling, not James.”

  Una unbolted the door and drew it open. Lord Epping stood alone at the threshold, his head cocked as he peered in toward his daughter. “Many thanks, Una,” he said. “Frankly, I have had enough conversations passed through locked doors for the week, thanks to my wife. May I speak with my daughter in private for a moment?”

  “Of course, my lord,” Una said, nodding. She glanced at Charlotte and dropped a kindly wink before taking her leave and closing the door behind her.

  “I am not marrying James Houghton, Father,” Charlotte said, rising to her feet. She sniffled loudly and dragged the broad cuff of her jacket against her cheek, drying her tears. She affected the proper poise and chin- hoisting of a woman righteously indignant, and marched toward her hearth.

  “Now, Charlotte…” Lord Epping began.

  “I am not marrying him,” she said again, more sharply. “He is a despicable boor, and I would as soon pour scalding water down the length of my form as have any measure of that man touch me. I love Kenley. I know you and Mother do not give a rot whit for such things, but you cannot prevent them. I love Kenley, and I want to marry him.”

  “He does not want to marry you, lamb,” Lord Epping said. He reached into his pocket and slipped out a folded sheet of paper. “He sent this to me and told me so himself, admitting that he had acted in haste, and demonstrated a decided lack in proper judgment.”

  “I do not know why he wrote that,” Charlotte said. “I do not know why he has done any of this, but I know it is not what he wants. He told me he loved me. He told me last night, Father. How does one change their mind with such resignation in so short an order? It is not possible. It is not true. He does not want this.”

  Lord Epping looked at her for a long moment. “Charlotte, you are every measure as fiery-tempered and obstinate as your mother when you feel so inclined,” he said at length. “But you have never suffered any lack of rationale in spite of it. I like to think that you take this from me, as I pride myself on being a man of some logical semblance. I had no qualms about standing against your mother’s wishes when it made sense to do so. Your arrangement with Lord Theydon seemed consensual and not made in haste. He seemed a fine enough young man to me—most pleasant and endearing. There seemed to be genuine affection between you, and I was unopposed to your marriage. But now?”

  He walked toward her, tucking Kenley’s note back into his pocket. “Now, I have come to appeal to your reason, lamb. No matter what you think or insist, the lad has broken his engagement. I cannot force him to it. That is not the way it works.”

  Charlotte blinked at him, her lip trembling despite her best efforts to set her jaw at a stern angle. “I love him,” she said.

  “I believe that you think you do,” Lord Epping said. “I believe your heart has convinced you that it is true. Now, in the light of these new circumstances, a great many of your mother’s arguments that seemed baseless to me now make a certain sense, and I would have you hear me on them. This past week has been very traumatic for you. Your mother thinks that your robbery frightened you more than you have admitted to anyone—likely even yourself—and I am inclined to agree with her. No one suffers such circumstances without being shaken. In the days that have followed, your heart and mind have been quite vulnerable. Your mother did not help matters any by arranging for Lord Roding’s unexpected marriage announcement, I know, and whether you believe me or not, she realizes this, too, in the retrospect.


  “I think in the fragile and uncertain state brought upon by your robbery, you have seized upon something that seemed true and sure, but that was, in reality, only impulsive.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes, lowering her face toward the floor. She tried to tell herself it was not true; it could not be true, but Lord Epping was right. There was a certain amount of reason within her mind, and his words made a sense to her that until that moment, she had never considered.

  “You are a sensible girl,” Lord Epping said, reaching out and cradling her cheek against her palm. “And I think you know that I am right. You may be too stubborn to admit it…” He offered this with a fond smile Charlotte did not see, and a tender caress against which Charlotte flinched. “… but you are wise enough to realize it.”

  Charlotte kept her lips pressed together in a thin, defiant line. “Lord Roding may indeed be precisely as you have described him,” Lord Epping said. “For his sake, I hope that he is not. I have not walked into the woods with another man in many long years, but my dueling pistols are about here somewhere and I still carry a snuffbox in my breast pocket for good measure…”

  Charlotte snickered at this, even as she struggled not to. She opened her eyes and blinked at her father as he smiled.

  “I know this may not be as you would like,” he said softly. “And you may not agree with the way noble society dictates our lives should be. You understand nonetheless, and I hope you understand that given the circumstances, I cannot change or prevent this.”

  Charlotte’s eyes swam with tears again, but she nodded. Lord Epping had conceded, then, and it was over. She had no more hope. She would be made to marry James.

  “Lord Roding has asked to see you,” Lord Epping said, and before Charlotte could do more than draw a quick breath to object, he added, “I have told him no. It was good of him in his concern to come as he has, but this is not the proper time, and you are not in the proper mood. He has asked to make the formal announcement this evening at Hudswell Hall. His mother’s family hosts a ball for Lady Margaret, and they have extended an invitation as of this morning for us to join their kin and close friends in their celebration. I told him that he could see you then, when he offered his proclamation.”

  Charlotte nodded mutely. Lord Epping leaned toward her, pressing his lips against the corner of her mouth. “You will wed him Sunday,” he said, and Charlotte’s eyes flooded again. She struggled not to weep as she nodded once more.

  Her father turned, walking toward the door. “We must leave for Hudswell by midafternoon,” he said. “I will send Una to help you prepare.”