Chapter Eight
Charlotte followed Mrs. Moore up the grand staircase to a large, pleasant room overlooking a rose garden edged by what looked to be boxwood.
A tub and screen stood before the fireplace, which had been lit and was already warming the bedchamber.
“I’ll send her ladyship’s dresser to you.”
“Thank you.”
The door closed behind the housekeeper, and Charlotte rubbed her arms, more to stay awake than for warmth.
A few moments later, a light rap sounded on the door before it opened and a woman carrying a linen nightgown entered the chamber. “Good morning, my lady, I am Gray.” She looked around the room, then, seemingly satisfied, asked, “Shall I help you undress?”
“Yes, please,” Charlotte repeated. Unlike last night at the inn, she longed to change into nightclothes, sink into a soft bed, and sleep.
Despite Lord Kenilworth being in the house, she felt as if she was safe. Even a rogue such as he would not accost her in his mother’s house.
“I shall clean and brush your garments while you sleep.” The dresser’s voice was soothing, easing her into a feeling of contentment. “I understand your maid will arrive later today.”
“She will.” Thankfully, Lady Bellamny had taken care of that.
Charlotte turned, allowing the maid to unfasten the back of her carriage gown, when she remembered the dagger. “If you will give me a moment, I must go behind the screen.”
Gray pointed to a door nestled between two bookcases. “You will find the garderobe through that door.”
“I shall be just a moment.” Charlotte strode into the small room. There were shelves with folded cloths to one side. She removed the dagger and holder, placing them behind the cloths, then returned to the main chamber.
While Gray was undressing Charlotte, she had the opportunity to think back. She had been surprised to see how young Lady Kenilworth appeared. Even as she had come to greet them, Charlotte could see her ladyship’s flawless skin. Other than some small lines radiating from Lady Kenilworth’s eyes, there was hardly a wrinkle to be seen.
She had not appeared old enough to be his lordship’s mother, and Charlotte thought the lady could be a step-mother like Lady Worthington, now Lady Wolverton, was Matt’s step-mother. Yet, her ladyship’s eyes were the same beautiful leaf green of Kenilworth’s, so they must be related.
It had not been until Lady Kenilworth had mentioned resting that Charlotte had allowed herself to flag, and suddenly the hours of travel and very little sleep had caught up with her all at once.
Charlotte raised her arms, and the dresser slipped the nightgown over her head. Charlotte covered her mouth, hiding a yawn.
Gray ran a warming pan under the top bedcovers. “Well, now. Let’s get you into bed, my lady.”
A moment later Charlotte was tucked under the bedcovers, the door had closed on the maid, and nothing short of another abduction could have stopped her from succumbing to Morpheus . . . except—a plaintive chirp sounded from the basket—Collette.
Charlotte threw the covers back. How could she have forgotten her kitten?
She must be much more tired than even she had thought. After opening the basket and seeing to the poor kitty’s needs, she set Collette on the bed and climbed back in, snuggling the kitten next to her. “Now we shall have a nice nap. Once I’m rested I shall find a way out of this ludicrous betrothal.”
The bed was soft, the curtains closed, but still sleep didn’t come. Lord Kenilworth could not wish to wed Charlotte. Indeed, earlier at the inn he had not even cared enough about her to notice she was ignoring him. Then when he had given his mother her wrong last name, he had not appeared at all contrite for the mistake he had made. He clearly possessed no proper feelings. Yet another reason not to marry him.
Well, what more could she expect from the man—she would not call him a gentleman even though that was his rank—who bought a woman’s body? Women’s bodies.
Most likely, he merely did not wish to face Lady Bellamny’s ire by refusing the betrothal. That must be it. Even Matt and Merton did not like to get on the wrong side of her ladyship. The more Charlotte considered it, the more convinced she became that Lord Kenilworth would be happy to be rid of her.
That settled, she began to feel sleepy again. There was nothing to worry about. If all went well, she would be home tomorrow evening at the latest.
* * *
Con followed Lady Bellamny and his mother down the corridor to a light-filled morning room in the back of the house.
The parlor—filled with old furniture—was comfortable rather than formal. The lower walls were painted a muted shade of apple green. The curtains and upper walls were of a large floral pattern. Paintings, mostly portraits of children, pets, and other people, covered almost every surface running up two of the walls. The French windows his mother had had installed led out to her favorite part of the garden.
“Constantine,” Mama said, motioning him to one of two chairs near the sofa next to which she stood. “Please sit where I can easily see you.”
That never boded well for him. Instead of complying, he took up a position next to the fireplace. “I believe I would rather stand.”
“As you will.” Her eyes narrowed at him as she gracefully sank onto the sofa, settling her skirts as she did.
When the butler entered bearing a large tea tray, Con was glad to see his favorite lemon tarts covering one plate. Were they Cook’s idea or Mama’s?
Lady Bellamny chose an old French cane-backed chair to Mama’s right.
Once he received a cup of tea from her, Con decided to begin with the most relevant piece of news first. “Lady Charlotte and I are betrothed.”
“Betrothed!” His mother opened and closed her mouth as if she would say more but did not know quite what. Unfortunately, that did not last nearly long enough. She had been waiting for this day since he went on the Town. “You did not even know her surname. How can you be engaged to the lady?”
Devil take it. Why did she have to focus on that slight mistake?
His back teeth started grinding again. “Mother, if you would allow me to continue.”
Raising one brow, he waited. A few moments later, she inclined her head. “Very well. You may go on.”
If only he could think of a better, more amenable way to put this. But he couldn’t. “It appears I compromised Lady Charlotte—”
“You did what?” His mother’s face flushed with anger. “Kenilworth, how could you do such a thing? And how could it appear that you compromised her? Either you did or you did not.”
Thankfully, Lady Bellamny cleared her throat . . . loudly. “If I may?” She paused for the briefest second, then carried on without anyone’s permission. “Kenilworth was passing Worthington House yesterday when he was called upon to aid Lady Charlotte, who had been abducted.”
His mother gasped, holding her hand to her bosom. “Oh, the poor dear.”
“Precisely.” Lady Bellamny nodded. “He followed her to an inn where she was being held captive and rescued her.”
Mama smiled. “That was extremely clever of you, Constantine.”
He gave a shallow bow, and waited for her ladyship to continue.
“He was unable to return her to Town before this morning, and they were seen by two worthless fribbles, entering an inn.” His mother looked as if she would interrupt once more but held her peace. “One of whom would not hesitate to blacken both Lady Charlotte’s and Kenilworth’s names. Naturally, as a gentleman and a peer, Kenilworth is prepared to do his duty.”
“I think both you and Lady Charlotte were extremely brave,” his mother said. “It is a wonder she was not suffering from strong hysterics when she arrived.” Mama took another sip of tea, all the while gazing at him with a calculating look in her eyes. “As you know, I wished for a love match for you. However, there is no reason why you cannot make her fall in love with you. You are very charming when you wish to be.”
Except for the fact that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
“I am well pleased that you have behaved as a gentleman should—not that I would have expected anything less—and, as you know, I shall be happy to finally have grandchildren.”
How his mother could completely ignore that his sisters had given her four grandchildren she doted on, was beyond him. She probably meant an heir but did not want to say it.
“What I would like to know is, how do you feel about this?”
Mama’s question shook him out of his thoughts. How did he feel?
At first, infuriated that he was being put upon. Then he’d seen how truly distraught Charlotte was, and lost much of his ire. As wrongheaded as she was, at least she believed passionately about the rightness of her cause. And where there was such passion, there was an opportunity to direct it into more appropriate avenues. She was not afraid to express her mind. That, though, was a double-edged sword that was currently being held to his neck.
Her innocence was refreshing, as was her honesty. He could do much worse and most likely not a great deal better. The only real problem was that she could not stand to be around him.
“She is beautiful, intelligent, and will make me a fine wife and marchioness.”
His mother nodded.
Now was the time to tell her Lady Charlotte was not as sanguine about this situation as he was. “However, I am afraid she is not as pleased about our betrothal as I am.”
Mama’s eyes hardened into emerald shards, and he hoped it was in defense of him. He was her only son after all. “Does she think she can do better than Kenilworth?”
“I think she could do better,” he retorted, attempting to lighten Mama’s mood. “That, however, is not her complaint. She objects to my keeping a mistress.”
“For Heaven’s sake, Constantine!” Mama threw up her hands. “What on earth were you thinking of to mention your mistress to her? Have you been avoiding Polite Society for so long that you have forgotten how to behave? Unmarried young ladies should not know—”
“I was not the one who brought up the subject.”
“Then how did she know?” She asked as if she did not believe him.
Con swiped a hand down his face. “She saw me at the theater.”
“Well”—his mother blinked a few times, as if digesting this information—“That is of no consequence. You will simply assure Lady Charlotte that you shall give up your ladybird, and indeed, have already done so in your mind.”
He wished to God it were that simple. “She has stated she will not wed a man who has kept a mistress.”
“How absurd.” His mother waved her hand dismissively. “It is the way of our world for gentlemen to keep mistresses. Even your father had one”—Mama’s face and lips lowered into a frown—“before he met me, of course. After that . . . there was no need.”
Mama glanced at Lady Bellamny, who shook her head. Good, at least someone knew Charlotte was not going to be so easily reassured. “Unfortunately,” he said, “Lady Charlotte was made aware of the deplorable conditions in which some unfortunates are kept. Eventually, she will come around.” Lord, he hoped so.
“I suggest waiting until her sister and Worthington arrive to broach the subject. In the meantime”—Lady Bellamny rose—“I must return to the inn. Even though I left him a note, my husband will be wondering where I’ve got to. He left shortly before Kenilworth and Lady Charlotte arrived to view some rock formation or another.”
“And I,” Con said, straightening, “am for my couch. Lady Charlotte is not the only one who was deprived of a night’s sleep.” He dropped a kiss on his mother’s head. “Lady Bellamny, allow me to escort you to the hall.”
They were halfway down the corridor when her ladyship said, “I wish you luck. I have a feeling you are going to need it. From what I have seen, Lady Charlotte is quite loyal, to her family, her friends, and her beliefs.”
“I have no doubt you are correct.”
“As there appears to be a boxing match in the village, I shall inform my husband we are returning to Town today.” She sighed. “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to return home. He only came to Town to present a paper and has remained much longer than I expected. Be that as it may, I shall do my best to make your road easier.”
“Thank you.” It would not suit Con to have his wife hie off to Town if he wished to remain in the country, but the Bellamnys obviously had an arrangement that suited both of them.
After seeing her ladyship off, Con made his way to his bedchambers. Yet, rather than falling into peaceful slumber, he tossed and turned, punching the pillows more than once.
Visions of Charlotte attempting to make her own way back to Mayfair from here kept intruding into his more delightful dreams of making her his. It was, after all, inevitable. Therefore, he might as well enjoy it.
Logically, he thought she was too intelligent to do anything that stupid. She must know that bawd and the blackguards who had abducted her would be searching for her. From what he’d heard of Miss Betsy, she would be extremely unhappy that her tool for avenging herself on Worthington had got away.
Giving up on sleep, Con tried to remember what exactly he had heard about the procuress. He’d been at one of the French-style drawing rooms his mistress, Aimée, liked to hold. It must have been shortly after the destruction of Miss Betsy’s brothel. One of the other Cyprians knew one of the prostitutes who had worked there. It appeared that even the women who went voluntarily were being held against their will. More by the supposed debts they owed to Miss Betsy than anything else. That type of arrangement was, unfortunately, not unusual. Or so he had been told.
What had been disturbing were the claims of innocents and ladies being forced to work at the bawdy house, as well as the use of opiates to subdue them. This last bit he did not believe at all.
He punched his pillow again. Naturally, everyone had heard of country girls coming to Town and being lured into prostitution. He had even met a few, but once settled they were perfectly happy in their profession.
All of which begged the question of why Worthington had put Miss Betsy out of business. Or the reason Charlotte would have been told anything at all. What had possessed him to do something so ill advised as to mention a brothel to an innocent young lady?
That was something Con would not discover until his friend came to fetch Charlotte, which brought his overactive mind back to the problem at hand, keeping the lady safe and, more importantly, here where he could not only look after her, but convince her to wed him.
For despite the circumstances surrounding his betrothal, and for reasons he did not fully understand, he found himself looking forward to having Charlotte in his life and in his bed.