Chapter Fourteen
Lady Chase’s guests flitted around Julian in a confusing wash of colors and chatter while he remained frozen in their midst, the argument he’d had with Charlotte echoing over and over again in his head until his chest was so tight he could hardly draw a breath.
Perhaps it will work out better for Devon than it did for me… Your heart must be encased in ice…
Her face, when he’d said it. Her eyes.
He scanned the guests crowded onto Lady Chase’s lawn, looking for the mauve colored gown Charlotte wore today. There, on the edge of the terrace, speaking with Iris Somerset. Charlotte was composed, smiling. He didn’t see any trace of the ugly scene in the carriage on her face. Watching her now, he could almost believe it hadn’t happened.
What else did she hide beneath her careful smiles? Her flirtations, her brittle laughter, and her callous disregard for her family—it all rang false now.
“Afternoon, West. Didn’t expect to see you here today. Warm day for a picnic, what?”
Julian tore his attention away from Charlotte and turned toward the young gentleman at his elbow. Lord…lord… Ah, yes, he had it now. Lord Findlay. “Good afternoon, Findlay. Yes, it is rather warm.”
A young lady with pale, fluffy blond hair stood next to Findlay, her face flushed with suppressed excitement. She nudged Findlay in the ribs. He looked down at her in surprise, as if he’d forgotten her, then sputtered into an introduction. “Right. Captain West, may I present my sister, Miss Lydia Fowler?”
Fowler. How appropriate. She looked like a baby chick struggling to burst from its shell. “Miss Fowler, it’s a pleasure.” Julian bowed over her hand.
“Oh, Captain West.” The girl’s face flushed a deeper pink; then she blurted, “Do tell me all about your heroics on the battlefield.”
“For God’s sake, Lydia,” her brother muttered in disgust.
“What?” The girl blinked in confusion, her feathery blond lashes coming down over wide blue eyes. “What have I said?”
Julian forced a polite smile. “There’s nothing to tell, Miss Fowler. I’m afraid the stories have been greatly exaggerated.”
“Oh, but I’m sure that’s not true, Captain, though your modesty does you credit.” She clasped her hands together at her breast and gazed up at him expectantly.
“You flatter me, Miss Fowler, but I’m afraid I can’t accommodate you.”
“But—”
“He said there’s nothing to tell, Lydia,” her brother hissed. He took hold of her arm to drag her away, but before Julian could draw a relieved breath an excited screech stopped him.
“Lord Findlay! Oh, Lord Findlay!”
A rotund lady in a straw hat with an elaborate cascade of pink ribbons was bearing down on them. Three young ladies, each clad in varying shades of pink, followed in her wake, looking ready to trample into dust anyone who dared get between them and their quarry.
Him.
“Egads, West,” Lord Findlay muttered with a sympathetic grimace. “Bad luck, that.”
Exceedingly bad luck, or perhaps divine retribution. Julian straightened his shoulders and pasted a cordial smile to his lips. Either way, there was no escape.
“Lord Findlay.” The lady came to a breathless stop beside them, her pink ribbons wildly askew from her trot across the lawn. “How do you do?”
Findlay had no choice but to introduce Julian. He bowed reluctantly. “Very well, my lady, thank you. Captain West, may I present Lady Wolverton and her daughters? This is Miss Wolverton, Miss Eunice, and Miss Dorothy.”
The eldest, Miss Wolverton, pounced before her mother could even acknowledge the introduction. “Oh, Captain West! Is it all true, what I’ve heard about you? Did you really save your entire regiment from certain death?”
“Save my—no, Miss Wolverton, it would be quite an unlikely scenario indeed for one man to save an entire—”
“Of course it’s true!” Miss Eunice looked offended for him. “It was in the papers, wasn’t it? He shot Napoleon’s horse right out from under him!”
Julian’s mouth fell open. Was the girl simple? “No, I did not. No one did. As I was just saying to Miss Fowler, the stories have been exaggerated, even more so than I realized—”
“I’m sure that’s not so, Captain West.” Miss Wolverton fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Do tell us all about it!”
Julian stared at them. Good Lord, was he expected to trot out each moment of battle for a herd of mindless chits who looked as if they should still be in pinafores? Should he regale them with tales of soldiers with their limbs blown off, describe the smell of decaying flesh, or explain how quickly the soil could absorb rivers of blood? “There’s nothing to tell.”
“You’re far too modest, Captain.”
“Not at all. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Wolverton, but it’s the simple truth.”
Her eyes widened at his surly tone, but then she turned and whispered audibly in her sister’s ear, “Well, he’s certainly as handsome as the paper claimed he was.”
Miss Eunice gave a girlish giggle. “Yes, and that’s more important than anything else, after all.”
This was the limit for Lord Findlay, who’d been squirming with embarrassment since the conversation began. “It looks like they’ve just brought out more cold lemonade, ladies. Shall we go and see? You must all be parched.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but took his sister by the arm and offered the other to Lady Wolverton, who was more than ready to abandon testy Captain West for charming Lord Findlay.
Findlay nodded to him. “Good afternoon, West.”
Julian bowed, then hastily retreated to a shady spot at the far corner of the lawn next to a bush abuzz with a swarm of fat, striped bees. Young ladies were frightened of bees, weren’t they? Surely the bees would be enough to keep them away—
“Well, Captain West. We’ll have you to thank for it if we get trampled in a stampede of silly chits, won’t we?”
Julian started, then looked down to find Lady Chase at his elbow. He sighed. Apparently the bees had no effect on old ladies. “I beg your pardon?”
She eyed him for a moment, then shook her head in disgust. “It’s to be false modesty, is it? Humph. I thought better of you than that. You know very well, I imagine, that all the young ladies here are angling for your attention.”
Julian looked out across the lawn and barely restrained a grimace. Stampede, indeed. Even the bees weren’t protection enough, for there was a staggering number of young ladies present today. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “It’s a lovely afternoon for a picnic.”
Lady Chase snorted. “Nonsense. Dreadful idea, a picnic in this heat, but my granddaughters wanted it, and I am but a slave to their every ridiculous whim, Captain.”
Julian raised an eyebrow at the idea of Lady Chase being a slave to anything, but he nodded politely. “You’re very good to indulge them, my lady.”
“Yes, well, I’m the indulgent sort, and since they’re obliged to stay in town with me over the summer, a picnic seemed the least I could do for them. I’m as fair-minded as I am indulgent you see, Captain.”
“I don’t doubt it, Lady Chase.” For God’s sake, didn’t anyone retire to the country anymore?
“I detest the country,” she said, as if she’d read his mind. “I never go when I can help it. My granddaughters are silly enough girls, but even so I can’t spare them, and so here we are, forced to picnic, and there’s Lady Sutton looking as if she’s about to fall into a swoon from the heat.”
“I certainly hope not, my lady.”
“Well, why ever not? Lady Sutton prides herself on her swoons. But I didn’t come over here to talk about Lady Sutton.”
Ah. So there was a point to this discussion. “No?”
She frowned at him. “Of course not. Why would I? No, I came because the scandal sheets have linked your name with Lady Hadley’s, Captain.”
Julian’s back went rigid. The bloody scandal sheets again. “How curious. I can’t imagine why they would.”
“Can’t you? I should think it was obvious. First the theater, and then some minor scandal at a gaming hell, wasn’t it? Something about stolen jewels. Well, it’s high time someone called you to account, so here I am. What are your intentions toward Lady Hadley, sir?”
“My intentions?” Julian choked back a sudden urge to laugh. Charlotte was a widow, and a sullied one at that. Could a man even have intentions toward a woman of her damaged reputation, aside from the obvious? “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, my lady.”
She huffed out a breath. “Well, for goodness’ sake, why not? I understand you’ve a heroic turn. So, are you going to save Lady Hadley, or not?”
Save her? Christ, he’d rather be stung by bees or face a horde of stampeding chits than endure this line of questioning. “Save her from what?”
“Why, from herself, of course!”
He gaped at her. “I can’t do that, Lady Chase.”
The old lady scowled at him as if she’d like to sting him herself. “Well, what nonsense. You saved some soldiers in your regiment, didn’t you? Why shouldn’t you do the same for Lady Hadley?”
“I may have kept a man or two from being shot a second time or run through with a blade, but that’s not at all the same thing.”
And even if it was…
Julian searched for the mauve gown and saw Charlotte at the edge of the terrace, still engaged with Iris Somerset.
This ends here, Julian. After today, you will not come near me again.
“Men are useless creatures, Captain, but you’re not quite as helpless in this as you’d have me believe.”
“Hardly helpless, my lady. Please do feel free to call on my services if Lady Hadley should be threatened by mortar fire, though I confess I think it unlikely.”
“You don’t give the ton much credit, do you, Captain West? I assure you, they can do much more damage than mortar fire. Now, the gossip says you’re the man to help Lady Hadley, and I wish you’d get on with it before she does something that can’t be undone, like take up with that disreputable lord who follows her about. Lord Demon—I believe that’s his name.” She leaned closer and her voice dropped to a whisper. “They say he murdered his own brother to get the title and fortune, you know, and perhaps he did, because he inherited it all when his father died last year. Of course the brother died some time ago, and nothing ever came of the murder accusation, though if you ask me, he’s guilty as sin.”
Julian had nothing to say to that, and he was ready to put an end to this conversation. “Lady Hadley has made it clear she doesn’t wish for my help, and even if she did, I wouldn’t be at liberty to discuss the particulars with you, my lady.”
Lady Chase dismissed this with a rap of her cane. “Certainly you would. She’s my family, and I learned long ago not to turn my back on my family.”
“Hardly family, is she? You’ve the merest thread of connection between you—”
“My two eldest granddaughters are married to her brothers, and all five of my granddaughters are excessively fond of her. That’s more than a mere thread to me, Captain. Now then. Your intentions, you young rascal?”
Well. He’d gone from hero to rascal rather quickly, hadn’t he? Instead of answering her, he posed a question of his own. “One might think you’d have turned your back on Lady Hadley by now, ma’am, given her reputation. That’s not the case, then?”
“I don’t approve of everything Lady Hadley does, Captain, but as you see, she’s here as a guest in my home.”
“Ah. Lady Hadley is fortunate to have so many champions.”
“She has champions amongst her family, yes, but don’t let the ton fool you, Captain. Any one of my guests here today would be delighted to indicate their disapproval by giving her the cut direct.”
Ah. So the ton only waited for an opportunity. It was no secret they disapproved of Charlotte, but her family’s wealth and social position afforded her a certain amount of protection from the more pointed sneers and cuts. But Cam and Ellie were out of the way today. If an opportunity arose to do so, Lady Chase’s guests might well decide to deal Charlotte a set down, and if they did, well… Such a painfully public humiliation might be just the thing to persuade her to leave London behind at last.
Julian’s chest squeezed at the thought of these people shaming Charlotte, but like a bee sting it would be quick—a moment of intense pain—and then it would be over. A sting wasn’t fatal, after all.
But a drowning… That was something else.
Today in the carriage, not one hour after he’d sworn not to let his anger overcome him, he’d let it drag him down again, except this time he’d pulled Charlotte under with him, and he would have taken her down further still, until the breath left her lungs.
He’d wanted to hurt her, and he’d succeeded. He didn’t trust himself not to do it again.
She must leave London at once. The further out of his reach she was, the better it was for both of them. Cam was right—he couldn’t be trusted. He couldn’t help her. Not without losing what little he had left of himself.
Julian’s gaze roamed over the crowd. For the most part it was young ladies just out in society, each of them a more emphatic portrait of pastel-clad innocence than the last, along with a judicious selection of young gentlemen who were nosing among the prospects in the marriage mart. The rest of the party were the sharp-eyed chaperones of said young ladies, and the usual set of high-sticklers, who were no doubt friends of Lady Chase’s.
Charlotte didn’t exactly blend in. Aside from the Somerset girls, everyone kept well away from her. Even the gentlemen, many of whom sent her longing glances, declined to engage her in conversation. Her position in society was precarious, to say the least. Damn it, why hadn’t Cam and the Sutherlands managed to put a stop to this sooner? It should never have come to this.
Julian turned his attention back to Lady Chase. “Her family tolerates her antics with a readiness that stuns me.”
“Antics? Is that what you call them, Captain?” Lady Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Antics are for children, sir, and I think we both know what Lady Hadley has been through is hardly child’s play.”
He didn’t reply to that. He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to. He’d gone to great lengths not to know, and it was better for everyone if he remained ignorant.
But Lady Chase saw the truth in his face. She laid her hand on his arm as if she thought he’d try and flee. “Never say you don’t know what happened to Hadley, Captain.”
Julian tried to pull his arm out from under the old lady’s claw-like fingers. “I do not, and I don’t wish to, so if you please, my lady—”
She held him fast. “Hadley broke his neck not five months after they married. It happened on a hunt. He was showing off for his young bride, and miscalculated a jump.”
Damn it, he didn’t want to know.
“Lady Chase, I don’t care to—”
“Lady Hadley doesn’t talk about it, but I know from my granddaughters she was there when it happened. Saw the whole thing. Such a pity. Poor Hadley. God knows he was a fool, especially when it came to his wife, but he was a good enough sort.”
Julian went still as an icy numbness started in his chest and spread, cold and liquid, into the pit of his stomach.
Broke his neck not five months after they married…
Charlotte was a bride, and then in the blink of an eye, she was a widow.
Lady Chase wasn’t finished. “That was bad enough, but it wasn’t the end of it.”
He didn’t want to ask, he didn’t want to know, and yet he felt his mouth opening, heard the words emerge in a hoarse whisper. “Not the end of it?”
“No. After Hadley died there was some unpleasantness with the dowager marchioness. The poor old thing was practically on her deathbed when Hadley and Charlotte married, but unfortunately she outlived her son by several months. Such is the way of things, I suppose. As I said, Lady Hadley never speaks of it, but there are rumors—ugly ones. They say the dowager went quite mad with grief and blamed her daughter-in-law for Hadley’s death.”
Did Charlotte blame herself?
Julian instinctively reached for a denial, a way to make it not true. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Grief rarely does, Captain. Charlotte stayed at Hadley House until the old woman finally passed away, though I imagine it was a dreadful ordeal for her.”
Lady Chase eased her grip on his arm, and without realizing he did it Julian rubbed the heel of his hand against the center of his chest to ease the ache there.
“Charlotte was ill for some time afterwards—I’m not certain with what. She never told any of us, though likely it was nerves and pure exhaustion. She arrived in London in March, however, as beautiful as ever, and took up right away with those appalling widows and that scoundrel, Lord Demon.”
Julian said nothing, but stood with Lady Chase at the edge of the lawn, the only sound the buzzing of the bees devouring their nectar, and watched as an endless parade of servants loaded silvers trays onto tables until the legs threatened to collapse under the weight. Liveried footmen appeared once the tables were laid to spread thick blankets here and there over the lawn.
Luncheon was served. The gentlemen moved in a rush toward the tables to prepare plates for the ladies, while the ladies picked their way daintily across the lawn, parasols shading their faces, and laid claim to the blankets.
“These are not quite the antics you anticipated, are they, Captain?”
Julian turned to find Lady Chase regarding him with a shrewd expression. “No. They aren’t.”
“Well, then?”
He drew in a long breath. “I can’t save Lady Hadley from herself, Lady Chase. Only she can do that. Even if I wanted to help her, no one can save a person who doesn’t wish to be saved.”
“But she does wish it, Captain.”
Julian looked away from the old woman’s hopeful expression. “No, my lady. She doesn’t.”
She would argue with him now, or perhaps she’d simply shove him into the buzzing bush and leave him to the bees. Julian waited, but Lady Chase remained oddly silent. He glanced over to find her with her hand over her mouth, her face suddenly as white as the linen tablecloths. “Lady Chase? Are you ill?”
She pointed one shaking finger in the direction of the picnickers. “Oh my goodness. Where are my granddaughters? We’re too far away to stop it…”
Julian turned back toward the terrace and saw at once what Lady Chase meant, though he doubted Charlotte herself would recognize her danger until it was too late.
Any number of things could have prevented it. If even one gentleman had claimed a blanket, or if any of the Somerset girls had been about, it would never have come to this. But the gentlemen were still at the tables filling their plates, and the Somerset girls were at the back of the terrace by the open French doors, trapped with Lady Wolverton, who was holding forth at length on some topic or other.
Charlotte hesitated at the edge of the terrace and gazed out at the crowd of young ladies scattered across the lawn. As she stood there alone, a plate clutched in her hand, the groups of young ladies drew into tight clusters on their blankets. Tight, and then tighter still…
And one by one, they turned their backs on her.
Miss Fowler, the Wolverton sisters—he could see them, smug and secure in their own places. Miss Fowler’s hand covered her mouth, but even from this distance Julian could see she was laughing.
Laughing.
Miss Fowler, who’d never faced a greater challenge than choosing hat ribbons, she dared to laugh, to turn her back, to cut Charlotte. They all did, all these spoiled chits who’d never known a day of struggle in their lives.
What had Devon said about Charlotte? That there was no other woman like her. That she was irreplaceable. Now, as he watched her endure a public humiliation from a score of young women who hadn’t half her courage, he understood this—this was what Devon meant.
Julian’s heart shuddered in his chest as Charlotte’s face grew paler and paler against the mauve silk of her dress until it simply…folded. There was no other word for it, for the way it fell in on itself and then tore at the creases, like a letter that’s been worried over until at last it rips away at the seams. He wanted to look away, tried to look away, because to witness such despair was an obscene invasion of privacy.
But he didn’t look away. He didn’t think. He didn’t reason. He didn’t remember she’d told him to stay away from her, or recall any of the resolutions he’d made, or remind himself he’d half hoped this would happen. He didn’t do any of those things.
He flew across the lawn, his long legs eating up the space between them, desperate to reach her.