Chapter 20

 

Charlotte wanted to go with Val, but Darius stopped her. The men had gone, taking Val in a closed carriage with the blinds down and she could not even let him kiss her. The thought of doing it sent her into a blind panic.

How could she be so unfeeling? Except that she wasn’t. She felt as if she were battering against the walls of an impregnable room, locked up there for all time, unable to escape. Her isolation was as real as if it had been physical and she could not break out of it.

When Darius offered to take her back to London that day, she accepted with alacrity. “I cannot stay here without gossip spreading, you know that,” Darius told her. “We have time, and to be truthful, I would rather start work tonight.”

“They’re taking him to Newgate,” she said numbly. “He could catch gaol fever.”

“He will not spend above one night there,” Darius vowed. “I will find a way. He may not have to stand trial by the time we’re done. It is fortunate that the family came to London for your wedding, because I intend to put every one of them to work.”

“Yes.” Charlotte gathered her skirts in one hand. “Give me an hour, and I will be ready. Or I can come now, and send for my things.”

“No, bring what you must. But no longer than an hour, mind.”

Charlotte’s maid seemed relieved to have something useful to do and proved her worth by having Charlotte’s clothes and her dressing case packed in half the allotted time.

Since Darius had ridden here, they took the carriage Charlotte and Val had arrived in, and left his horse for a groom to bring into town the next day.

At the door, the butler bowed low. “I trust we will see you soon, my lady? If I may venture to wish yourself and his lordship all the good fortune in the world.”

That meant a lot to Charlotte. Servants rarely gave opinions, and the ones in her father’s house generally crept about like mice, so to have the loyalty of a London servant was something indeed. She nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

Darius held out his gloved hand to help her into the carriage. When she paused, he dropped his hand and she made shift to climb into the vehicle on her own.

Her reaction to touches began immediately after Kellett’s body lay on the ground next to her. Blood and bits of bone had spattered her, but it wasn’t until the pool of blood had reached her face that she’d felt the full horror of what she had just done. It was warm, touching her like fingers of liquid.

Almost immediately Val had scooped her up. His touch, so soon after Kellett’s, had done something to her senses. Still in deep shock, she’d reacted instinctively from somewhere deep inside her. At the time, she’d assumed she would recover after the shock had worn off and she’d had some rest, but it was not to be.

When Val had tried to make love to her—even now, her mind shied off from her horrific response, fighting as if her life were at stake, screaming and pushing him away. Another man would have forced the issue, but Val left the room, telling her not to worry. Her reaction shamed her.

She’d wept when he left, but she could not help her reaction. Her body had reacted before her mind had. And now she might lose him forever without knowing the joy of holding him again. For all his brave talk, he had his enemies, and they would use this to try to destroy him. The whole family had enemies.

Charlotte refused to be bowed, although she’d be an idiot to deny her fear.

They reached the London house of the Shaw family in just over an hour. At this time of year, the days were drawing out, and darkness would not fall for some time yet, so anyone who wanted to see her could. Darius descended from the carriage, and waited for her to descend. “We will take the greatest care of you.”

“I know you will.”

Within another hour, the Emperors still in London arrived en masse and gathered in the drawing room. Darius contrived to protect her from touches by guiding her to a sofa at the edge of the room, and sitting next to her. The room, when it was not cleared for balls, contained several casually arranged groups of chairs and sofas, which as they arrived the guests had no compunction in dragging around to suit their purposes. Julius, Lord Winterton, arrived with his wife; Lord Devereux and his lady; Ivan; and Ivan’s brother Lord Ripley, who did not spend much time in town these days. Four of Val’s five siblings, his parents, and nine of Val’s cousins, with spouses, made for a full drawing room.

Charlotte sat very still and rigid, trying to keep her wayward emotions in control. She was not used to suffering so many at the same time, nor was she accustomed to the strength of her passions. She was constantly on the edge of tears or edgy, uncontrollable laughter. The only way she knew how to cope with such emotions was to retreat inside herself, as she had done so often before. Quell everything, tamp it down. She had developed skill doing that. She put it into play now, and disappeared behind her facade.

The meeting passed in a daze. However hard Charlotte tried to concentrate on the vital business at hand, what they said slipped away from her even as she was grasping it.

At one point, Darius leaned over and spoke to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you over the salient points another time.”

Was her bemusement so obvious? She hardened her expression, remaining still and calm, trying to look as if she knew what was going on.

Watching them, she finally understood why the Emperors were successful. Even the new members of the family circle contributed to the discussion. Nobody was excluded. The marquess acted as unofficial head, ensuring everyone had his say and the more promising ideas taken forward. Their reach astonished her. They had tentacles in every part of society and the underworld.

They were prepared to take as long as it took. At one point, Julius’s wife, Eve, quietly left and returned half an hour later, having fed and put her baby to bed herself in the nursery upstairs. Charlotte had heard of fashionable ladies feeding their babies themselves, but that was the first time she had come across the phenomenon.

She could be pregnant with Val’s baby. Although they were under no compulsion to set up a nursery, Charlotte surprised herself with the longing that temporarily pierced her numbness. She wanted Val’s child.

They had each their assigned tasks. She cleared her throat. “May I coordinate?”

She thought they hadn’t heard her at first, but then Lord Winterton’s head swiveled in her direction. His cool blue gaze, his eyes several shades lighter than Val’s, swept over her thoughtfully, making her itchy in her skin.

“I am used to running my father’s households, so my organizational skills are very good.”

He held up a hand. “I have no doubt, ma’am. Your offer is most welcome. If you set up an office in the book room here that would work very well. Keep it locked, and lock the jib door, too. Dust will have to gather while we are busy.” He meant don’t let the servants in to spy. Charlotte was fully in agreement with that.

When he came toward her, she tried not to shrink back, but of course he would not touch her.

Except that he did. He lifted her hand to his lips.

Charlotte snatched her hand back with a cry of alarm and moved so convulsively the substantial sofa scraped back on the floor.

Reaction was instant. Julius straightened as Darius leaped up to stand protectively in front of her.

“I have to tell them,” he said regretfully. “Everyone here feels your pain, Charlotte. We will do everything we can to protect you.” He addressed Julius directly, although he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “Charlotte does not like being touched at the moment. Please give her this time.”

Sympathetic murmurs and a soft cry of dismay from her mother-in-law followed Darius’s statement.

He moved aside and sat down again. Charlotte folded her trembling hands in her lap. “I did it,” she said. She could not bear this group of people to be under any illusions. It was clear they would move heaven and earth for her. Would they do so when they knew the truth?

They fell silent and stared at her. “Hervey—Lord Kellett, that is—held a pistol to my head. He told Val to get the shirt, the one we told you about. We knew that his word was worth nothing, and as soon as Val left, he would kill me. Or perhaps he would do it when Val returned, so he could take the shirt and see him watch me die.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pictured the scene in her mind as if she was sitting in a box at Drury Lane watching a play. “But if Val did not go to the house, he might kill us both anyway. He had two pistols, so our only chance was when he paused to cock the second. But by that time one of us would be dead.” She swallowed, recalling the risk they took. “I tried to signal Val, and I think he understood what I planned. When he made to walk past me, it was our only chance. I dropped to the ground and grabbed the pistol. Kellett’s hold loosened, and I managed to take it. I turned it and fired.” She did not continue. If she had, she’d have admitted that she shot to kill, that she did not intend Hervey to leave that garden alive.

The guilt crippled her, especially when she’d seen the result.

“I want to tell the authorities. Val should not suffer for my sins.”

“No!” Darius, Ivan, and Julius spoke at once.

“Newgate is no place for you,” Darius added.

Julius frowned. “From what you say, either of you could have killed him. He clearly intended to murder you, so I cannot see this case being anything but self-defense. It cannot be murder.”

“They can make a case,” Darius said gloomily. He’d already outlined the events leading to Kellett’s death. He was right, the public nature of the card game, the rivalry and the duel could have led to a planned killing. But not by Val. Except that Val had a reputation for reckless behavior, and hadn’t he shot at Kellett before?

Charlotte felt sick. She swallowed, but even that small move was noticed by Julius.

“Are you growing tired?” he asked her gently, so softly Charlotte finally understood why Eve was so deeply devoted to him. The care and consideration in those words belied the reputation Lord Winterton carried of a haughty, proud man whose first name should have been Perfection. He had accepted her problem without a blink, and now he was treating her with care. He would never run roughshod over her, as her father had done.

“I’m not at all tired, thank you.” She sounded prim, but she could not help that. She wanted to get to work.

Shortly after, the group broke up.

Charlotte found she felt much better, having a task to perform, and a place in this family.

* * * *

When her father called, Charlotte was busy in the book room. Although small, the room was furnished with everything she needed to keep the different strands of the case together. She’d stacked papers in neat piles on the large circular table and set up a sheet of paper with all the details on it on a table with carefully ruled lines. Frankly, she loved that kind of work, detailed and precise, when she could sit back and see what she had done.

However, she’d never done anything this important before.

The butler knocked and stayed at the door, as she’d instructed him. “My lady, your father, the Duke of Rochfort, has called. Are you available to see him?”

So that was why he was speaking softly. She could behave like a coward and refuse to see him, but she would not, although she might in future.

But she would not see him alone. “Is anyone else at home?”

The butler nodded. “Lord Darius is abed. He was out all night, but I believe he is stirring. His valet went up to him half an hour ago.”

“I would appreciate you telling him that my father is here. Would you offer the duke refreshment, please, and let him know I’ll be in directly?” She didn’t have to ask where the butler would put him. Only the grand drawing room would do.

She gave him five minutes, taking the time to compose herself. Her father could not distress her anymore. She had been through too much recently to allow him to drag her back into his particular version of hell. Whatever happened next, she would not go back.

Darius met her outside. He reached out, but dropped his hand before he touched her. “I have news. I could not see you before. I was not fit for anyone to see me, but I would have come to you next. I’ve had Val moved from Newgate. He is now in Sir John Fielding’s private residence at Bow Street.”

She clasped her hands together. “May I see him?”

“Perhaps.” He paused. “He wants to bathe and make himself decent for you. And sleep. He hasn’t been well.” As her stomach twisted and she turned around to race up to her room and fetch her hat and gloves, he continued quickly. “He could not sleep. He needs rest. The news I gave him helped ease his mind. I am to care for you, which I intend to do anyway.”

“He is not truly ill?”

“No, merely tired and worried.”

“Very well.” Feeling heartened, she lifted her chin and nodded to the footman to throw open the doors to the drawing room.

Her father had settled on a sofa, a relief to the housekeeper who might have feared for her chairs. As it was she could swear that the delicate-seeming piece of furniture bowed under his weight. This drawing room was very different than the one she was used to. A portrait of the marquess and his wife were hung either side of the fireplace, but in the center was a painting of the family home, surrounded by carvings Val had told her were by Grinling Gibbons. The twisted ribbons and flowers in bloom were miraculously carved in wood, the motifs repeated in the plaster ceiling. Yet this was a family room. For all the treasures it contained, it had a warmth and welcome Charlotte had never felt in any of her father’s houses. Even now she felt it, reaching out to hold her in a protective circle of warmth.

The duke did not get to his feet. He nodded to Darius. “You may leave. I wish to speak to my daughter alone.”

“I am charged by her husband to remain with her.” Darius was at his grandest, every bit the son of a premier peer.

“Humph. He won’t be her husband for much longer.”

Charlotte sat in the chair by the fire. Her father’s frown deepened, but he said nothing. Probably reserving his battles. Charlotte could not remember ever sitting in his presence before. Ever, except at meals and never without his permission. Darius sat in one nearby.

The maid brought a tray of tea, and Charlotte had to go through the ritual of pouring it and handing it out. She had no desire for tea. She wanted to know what he wanted and get him out of the house. “He is my husband until I die,” she said quietly.

“When you’re a widow, you come back to me,” her father said. “I regret I cannot provide the husband for you that I chose, but there it is. You would behave stubbornly, and this is your reward. A disobedient child is anathema to me.”

“The last time I saw you, you declared you had no daughters,” she pointed out, keeping her voice sweet.

“You were too untrustworthy to be any child of mine.” He cleared his throat. “However, I would be unnatural if I left you in your time of distress. I have come to fetch you home, daughter.”

Horror filled her, making her heart quicken at the mere suggestion. “I am home.”

“Now we are on different sides of the dispute, your loyalty belongs to me.” He took a slurp of his tea and set the dish back on its saucer with a hard click. He was not pleased.

“I am naturally loyal to my husband.”

His lips firmed. “Not for long. He murdered a man. It is not the first, I believe.”

What did he mean by that?

Darius took a hand in the conversation. “Val has never killed a man before, much less murdered one. I would take care what you say, your grace.” Never had a title sounded more like an insult.

“I do, and I do not need a person like you to remind me of it. You are not here of my will, sir.”

“Nevertheless…” Darius gave a gracious wave of his hand, indicating his presence. “Sir, I am devastated to inform you that your daughter will not be returning to your house, now or at any time in the future.”

“When her husband is hanged—”

Darius held up his hand again, this time with more firmness. “He will not be hanged.” He had clearly seen Charlotte’s flinch even though she had done her best to control it. “If he is otherwise detained, which we are also not prepared to accept, he has provided handsomely for his wife.”

“I am retaining her portion. She will have nothing.”

“On the contrary, she will be a wealthy woman. She is a wealthy woman, since my brother has already settled an amount on her.”

The duke’s lip turned in a sneer. “What money does he have? He’s a wastrel. What money he has, he squanders.”

“Apart from the fortune he has made in partnership with me.” Darius shrugged.

“Pandering?”

Fury seethed brought Charlotte’s blood to boiling point. “How dare you speak of any man so?” The bitterness of years poured out. “You, with your disgusting habits? We know of your proclivities, sir, although I did not when I lived in your house. If I had, I would not have remained there. I would have lived on the streets rather than taken your abuse and your dictatorial behavior. We went in fear of your moods, sir, but no more. If you insult my husband, if you think to appear in court against him, I will tell them everything I know of your unnatural practices and your visits to the House of Correction.”

She had never seen her father shaken before. He knew what she meant, she saw it in his red-rimmed eyes, and in the way his mouth hardened. He got that look just before he was about to beat her, but the anticipatory gleam was missing. “I was right to cast you off,” he said quietly. She once trembled at that tone. “You are an ungrateful daughter. I will be leaving for my estates tonight. I will acknowledge you in public, but no more. Do you understand? You are nothing to me.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she said, alarmed at the calmness that settled over her.

Darius escorted the duke to the door and then returned to find her sitting still and calm. “You did well,” he said. “Without your father’s testimony, Kellett’s case is considerably weakened.”

Charlotte heard the words, but she was locked inside her cell once more. With that flash of temper she had felt like her old self, but the freezing barrier had descended, a curtain of stillness.

She was back with her own company, sealed in her own living tomb of solitude.