Chapter Five
“I’m going to ask you once again, Sarah, and I’ll have the truth this time, if you please. Are you a spy?”
Charlotte kicked her legs out in front of her, slumped back against the plush carriage seat, and waited for her vulgar pose to hurl Sarah from her icy silence headlong into the blistering scold that hovered on the tip of her tongue.
The scold was inevitable, so they may as well get it over with.
She didn’t need to wait long. Disapproval rose from Sarah like thick clouds of smoke from a conflagration. “If I’m a spy, I’m not going to tell you so, am I? What kind of spy admits she’s a spy, my lady?”
“That sounds like a confession.”
“It’s nothing of the sort.” Sarah gave a haughty sniff. “I haven’t anything to confess.”
“Ah, now I know you’re lying. Everyone, dear old thing, has something to confess. We all have at least one secret sin.”
Sarah pressed her lips so tightly together they became indistinguishable from the rest of her face. “Sins now, is it? There’s some as has a great deal more than one, and not so secret as they should be, neither.”
Ah. There it was—the scold Charlotte knew was coming since Sarah dragged her from her bed an hour ago. Despite her rigid sense of propriety, Sarah had a tongue like a striking adder, and she never could hold it for long.
“How dull it would be if everyone kept their sins to themselves.” Charlotte hid a yawn behind her gloved hand. “Thank heavens the ton doesn’t think as you do, Sarah, or we’d never have any amusement. Public sins are far more diverting.”
Sarah drew herself up, her spine rigid against her seat. “Surely you didn’t just thank heaven for shameless sins, my lady?”
Charlotte laughed at the maid’s scandalized look. “Why yes, I believe I did. But really, Sarah, I begin to think all this talk of sin is your attempt to divert me from the question at hand. If you’re not a spy, then how does my sister, Eleanor, always know when I set a toe over the line of propriety?”
Sarah snorted. “A toe, indeed. It’s a whole foot for you every time, or nothing at all, and Lady Eleanor knows it as well as I do.”
“That’s precisely the issue at hand, Sarah. How does she know it?”
It was no great mystery, of course. Charlotte knew very well Sarah had been whispering in Ellie’s ear almost from the moment they’d arrived in London. She should dismiss Sarah at once for such blatant disloyalty, of course, but she was perversely fond of the impertinent creature.
“One of your widow friends told her, most like.” Not a blush stained that guilty cheek, and Sarah’s gaze never wavered. “Probably that little French one.”
She was blaming Aurelie? Shameless.
Until now Charlotte hadn’t been terribly concerned about Sarah’s tattling. She didn’t like to upset her sister, but she was a widow, not a debutante, and a widow of independent means, at that. She could do as she wished.
But now—now she was concerned, and had been since Julian West dragged her out of that brothel last night. Well, perhaps dragged wasn’t quite the right word. He’d taken advantage of her foolishness to maneuver her out. She’d been so shocked to see him it hadn’t occurred to her his presence at that particular brothel couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Cam and Ellie knew she’d be there last night, because Sarah had told them. They’d sent Julian to retrieve her, and she’d helped him finish the job by being fool enough to bargain for his silence.
It wouldn’t happen again. Sarah couldn’t tattle if she had no tales to tell, and Charlotte would take care in future to see she didn’t.
She yawned again. “Honestly, I don’t know why we indulge Ellie’s whims in this ridiculous way, rushing over to Bedford Square at the crack of dawn as if we’d been summoned by the queen herself.”
“Dawn? It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, my lady. It’ll do you good to be up and about before the sun sets. The fresh air will put color in your cheeks.”
“One o’clock?” Charlotte’s heart plummeted from her chest to her stomach with a sickening thud. Only one o’clock. Too early. She’d meet her friends again at the theater tonight, but that engagement was hours away.
The day loomed ahead of her, silent and empty.
Think of something else.
She yanked her skirts over her knees with an agitated jerk, pressed her nose against the window, and tried to focus on the blur of horses and carriages, the sound of their wheels against the cobblestones, the clatter punctuated by the cries of the costermongers.
But it was too late. The familiar panic rose in her throat. She squeezed her eyes closed as the dread began to claw at her—
Sarah plucked the crumpled folds of silk skirts from Charlotte’s clenched fist. “Maybe Lady Eleanor will let Miss Amelia come back to Grosvenor Square with you this afternoon.”
Charlotte turned from the window. “Won’t she—” She cleared her throat, but her voice sounded small nonetheless. “Don’t you suppose Amelia has lessons today?”
“Like as not, but you could hear how she does with her pianoforte, and then take her for a ride in the park afterwards. A little holiday won’t hurt the child.”
Charlotte relaxed her fists with an effort. “Well, it won’t do any harm to ask, I suppose.”
“No harm at all. Go on with you then,” Sarah added as the carriage stopped in front of Cam and Ellie’s townhouse and a footman appeared to hand Charlotte down. “Lady Eleanor’s note arrived over an hour ago. She must wonder what’s kept you so long.”
Charlotte paused a moment to steady her breath.
For pity’s sake, get ahold of yourself.
She fixed what she hoped was a convincing smile on her lips and swept up the townhouse stairs. “Oh, good morning—ah, that is, good afternoon, Phipps,” she said to the butler. “I’ve been summoned to an audience with your mistress. Would you be so good as to tell me where I might find her?”
Phipps bowed. “Of course, my lady. She’s in her bedchamber.”
Charlotte handed him her gloves. “Ah. The royal bedchambers. Where else? Thank you, Phipps.” She mounted the staircase to the second floor and entered Ellie’s rooms after a cursory tap at the door. “Eleanor?”
Ellie was seated on the window seat watching something in the garden below, but she turned when Charlotte entered. “Ah, Charlotte. Good morning. What took you so long?”
Charlotte studied her sister. No—there was no froth at Ellie’s mouth. A good sign, that. Some of the trapped air eased from Charlotte’s lungs. “Well, let me see.” She sank down onto a chaise, tucked her legs up underneath her, and attempted a light, teasing tone. “I had to sneak out of my bedchamber without waking my two lovers, and then I stopped on the way over here to gamble away all of Hadley’s family jewels. I do apologize for the delay.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Two lovers?”
“I think there were two. Perhaps there was a third burrowed under the counterpane at the foot of the bed.”
“My.” Ellie rose from the window seat and joined Charlotte on the chaise. “Such an excess of lovers. No wonder you look exhausted.”
Charlotte held up three fingers. “I look exhausted because Sarah forced me from my bed not three hours after I collapsed into it, and that makes three times in the past two weeks. Three times, Eleanor! Whatever can you mean, dragging me from my bed at such an ungodly hour?”
There. She’d hit just the right note of mock outrage. Now Ellie would laugh, or smile…
But Ellie didn’t laugh. Instead she began to tick points off on her own fingers. “Earlier this week it was Lord Fothergill’s rout, which, if the scandal sheets have the right of it, was not so much a rout as a high-stakes card game. Lord Essex’s son lost thousands to Lord Devon, didn’t he?”
For God’s sake. Sarah’s wagging tongue was as good as a crystal ball. “What of it? I came away from the tables a hundred guineas richer.”
Ellie ignored this and held up a second finger. “Then there was Lady Atwood’s dinner last week. I believe you attended. Quite a debauched scene, if rumor is correct. Miss Grainger is ruined beyond redemption, you know. Her family has banished her. They bundled her off to the country the very next day.”
Charlotte didn’t quite meet Ellie’s eyes. “Well, who told the chit to disappear into the library alone with a rake like Mr. Jermyn? Anyway, the rumors are nonsense. I saw Miss Grainger emerge from the library myself, and she was fully clothed—”
“That brings us to last night, and Lady Tallant’s soiree.”
Soiree. Not whorehouse. Was there a chance Ellie would let the brothel incident pass?
Charlotte forced a casual shrug. “Annabel Tallant is my friend, Eleanor. I could hardly refuse to attend her soiree.”
“Perhaps not, but you could have refused to end your evening at a west end brothel.”
No chance, then. Charlotte jerked to her feet in an agitated whirl of silk skirts. “I didn’t end my evening there. Didn’t Captain West tell you? He made quite a point of escorting me home. Kind of him, wasn’t it? How convenient it must be for you to have him back in London.”
Ellie paused, then, “You could hardly expect him to leave you there, Charlotte.”
“I don’t expect anything at all from Julian West, though now I think on it, perhaps I should.” She stared hard at Eleanor. “Perhaps I should expect him to be forever at my elbow from now on? I grant you he’d make an admirable hound. Have you set him on my scent, Ellie?”
Ellie avoided her eyes. “How dramatic you are, Charlotte.”
That was a yes. It was always a yes when Ellie gave an answer that wasn’t really an answer.
Well. Julian may have failed to extract a promise from her last night, but he’d succeeded spectacularly this morning. As long as he remained in London she’d take care to stay away from her family and Bedford Square, just as he’d demanded.
After a long silence, Ellie heaved a sigh. “You’ve dragged out the season to the bitter end. The respectable half of the ton has already left London. Don’t you think it’s time you made up your mind to go back to Hadley House? It will be quiet in Hampshire, and you can rest.”
Charlotte turned toward the window, away from Ellie. Quiet. Yes, there was plenty of quiet to be had at Hadley House, but precious little rest.
“Bellwood then, instead of Hampshire,” Ellie said when she didn’t answer. “Alec and Delia are already there, and Robyn and Lily leave London at the end of the week. You can stay through Christmas.”
Bellwood. The place of all her girlhood dreams. It was the one place in the world even lonelier than Hadley House. “Soon. I’ll go soon. Perhaps at the end of this month, or the start of the next.”
Ellie remained silent. She wanted more than that, of course, a promise Charlotte would cease her wild escapades, retire to the country, and behave in a manner befitting a proper widow. Vows and assurances rushed to Charlotte’s lips, but she choked them back down. No. She wouldn’t make any promises she knew she couldn’t keep.
“We’re leaving London at the end of next week, Charlotte—Cam, Amelia, and I, and we won’t return until next season.”
“Leaving?” Charlotte’s head buzzed as all the blood drained from it at once and then came back in a nauseating rush. They’d be off to the country before Julian left London. A few weeks without her family was one thing, but—dear God, it would be months before she saw them again. Months. It felt like a lifetime.
Ellie nodded. “Yes. The doctor was here this week, and he confirmed what we’ve suspected for several weeks now. I’m increasing.”
Charlotte’s heart squeezed in her chest, but she forced herself to turn back to Ellie with a smile. She took her sister’s hands. “How wonderful. I know you’ve been hoping.”
Ellie smiled back, but her face was anxious. “Yes. Cam is thrilled, but he insists we leave London at once for the healthier climate in the country.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Very wise.”
Ellie squeezed her fingers. “We want you to come with us, Charlotte. There can be nothing keeping you in London this late in the season.”
Nothing but a wish to hold on to my sanity.
She dropped Ellie’s hands. “My friends are here.”
“But your family is at Bellwood, and we want you with us. Don’t you want that, as well?”
Such a lovely thing, to be able to do what she wanted. Such a wealth of choices. But she had only two choices left now—the things she could bear to do, and the things she couldn’t. To go to Bellwood, to spend the winter with her besotted siblings, their equally besotted spouses and their happy, growing families…
No. She couldn’t bear to do that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
She forced another smile to her stiff lips. “Soon. The end of next month, perhaps.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Maybe by the end of next month—
“I hope so.” Ellie regarded her with a kind of hopeless resignation. “But if you must remain in London, will you promise to stay away from Lord Devon? I don’t like to have you spend time with him. At best he’s no gentleman, and at worst he’s dangerous.”
No promises I can’t keep.
Charlotte laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You don’t mean to say you believe all that gossip about Devon, Eleanor? You know how the ton exaggerates. He’s as harmless as a kitten.”
Ellie frowned. “He’s no kitten, Charlotte. He’s far more like a hound about to tear into a fox.”
“Ah, but you forget, Eleanor, how clever the fox is.”
Ellie’s lips went tight. “Julian said it was a wager with Devon that led to the bordello escapade. Devon knows how dangerous such a wager is, but he’s happy enough to risk your reputation for his own amusement.”
Damn it. Bloody Julian West. Had he kept any of the details from last night to himself? “We all agreed to the wager. Lord Devon is no guiltier than any of us.”
“Perhaps not, but then he doesn’t have as much to lose, does he?”
An incredulous laugh rose in Charlotte’s throat. Did Ellie truly believe she had anything left to lose? “I promise you I’ll be as circumspect in my choice of company as I possibly can be.”
Ellie wasn’t fooled by her vague promise. She made her way across the room and sank wearily down on the bed, her face pale and set.
Charlotte couldn’t look at her sister’s pinched face, not if she wanted to keep her composure, so she turned her back on Ellie and retreated to the window. Amelia was on the lawn below playing at bowls, the sun’s rays sifting through her fair hair. She rolled the ball, then jumped in the air with an excited shout as it struck the jack.
A smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips. Such a pure, simple, childlike joy. How would she ever do without Amelia until next season? She turned back to Ellie. “Do you suppose Amelia could spend the afternoon with me?”
Ellie opened her eyes, then closed them again. “She was out all morning riding with Julian, and she hasn’t finished her lessons—”
“Just a few hours, Eleanor? I’ll have her back right after tea.”
Ellie struggled up onto her elbows with an exhausted sigh. “Oh, very well. I suppose she can have a holiday today. She’s too excited about the baby to concentrate, in any case. But do make sure she practices her pianoforte. She doesn’t do nearly as well with her music master as she does with you.”
“Yes, yes. I will.” Charlotte flew toward the door, her heart already lighter.
“See she has a proper tea, as well!” Ellie’s voice followed Charlotte into the hallway. “Not just lemon ices, like last time!”
“Of course not!” Charlotte called back as she bounded down the stairs, her skirts billowing out in a blue cloud behind her. Phipps opened the door and she sailed outside, rounded the corner of the house, and emerged at the edge of the lawn just in time to see Amelia toss the bowl with such enthusiasm it rolled past the others, off the edge of the lawn, and into the rose garden.
“Awful throw!” Charlotte called.
Amelia gave her a sunny smile, and waved from across the lawn. “Charlotte! Shall we have a game?”
Oh, why not? She hadn’t played bowls in years. “Yes, one game, and then I’ll steal you away for the rest of afternoon.”
“Truly?” Amelia clapped her hands together with delight. “Will you take me to Gunter’s for an ice?”
“Of course. As many as you want. Whatever you like.”
“Hurrah!” Amelia darted across the lawn toward Charlotte, a wide grin on her face.
“After you’ve practiced your pianoforte, that is.”
Amelia’s grin faded a little at that. “Oh, all right. I’d much rather practice with you than that dusty old music master, anyway.”
“Only because I let you play bawdy Irish songs. Go and fetch the other bowls and I’ll find the one in the rose garden.”
“All right.” Amelia darted back across the lawn. “You’ll lose, you know. I’m very good at bowls!”
The roses were in full bloom, the leaves clustered thickly on the canes. Charlotte strolled down row after row looking for Amelia’s ball, but the dratted thing seemed to have disappeared. She was about to give up and leave it when she caught sight of it peeking out from under a particularly thorny yellow rose. “Blast it,” she muttered, dropping down onto her knees. She stuck her hand under the rose, careful not to prick her fingers, and reached around until she felt the smooth surface of the ball against her palm. “Come on out, you devil.”
“Not quite the greeting I expected, my lady, but then you never were one to fulfill expectations.”
Charlotte froze, her hand still cupped around the ball, and turned her head to find a pair of black Hessians planted on the path next to her feet, their shine blinding in the afternoon sun. She didn’t rise, but let her gaze travel upward over long legs encased in tight, buff-colored breeches, narrow hips, a lean waist, and wide shoulders under a beautifully fitted dark blue coat.
Captain West, looking every inch the handsome, valiant hero London so admired, right down to the halo of blurred sunlight framing his dark hair. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Drat the man. Why did he have to be so devastating?
“Don’t rise on my account, my lady.” He tapped the tip of his riding crop rhythmically against his boot. “I quite like you where you are.”
Charlotte ignored this and rose slowly to her feet, Amelia’s ball cradled in her palm. “So much so you plan to keep me there. Isn’t that right, Captain West?”
“Oh, I don’t think you need me for that. You’re doing an admirable job of it on your own. I did, after all, come across you in a whorehouse last night.”
Charlotte pressed her fingers into the smooth, hard surface of the ball. “That’s not quite true, Captain.”
He arched one dark eyebrow. “No? There were a surprising number of whores about if it wasn’t a whorehouse.”
She gave him a thin smile. “What I mean is you didn’t come across me at all. That implies you stumbled upon me by accident, but that was no chance encounter last night, was it?”
“Oh, that.” He gave a careless shrug. “Yes, if you want to quibble over words, I suppose that’s true.”
She hefted the ball in her hand. Heavy. Quite heavy enough to inflict damage to a skull. “I find it helpful to be precise. Lies often hide in ambiguities, you see.”
A corner of his mouth turned up in a mocking smile. “I never lied to you last night. You made an assumption, and I didn’t correct you.”
Ah, yes. Julian always had been able to manipulate situations to his advantage, to withhold information while stopping just short of lying, and she’d do well to remember it instead of mooning over the way the sunlight framed his hair. “That’s a convenient distinction, Captain. Surprising, for a man like you. Not so heroic, after all?”
His expression didn’t change, but he stiffened, and something dark flickered in his eyes—something that made her heart shift uneasily in her chest before she shoved it back into place. “But call it a misunderstanding if you like. Tell me, do you anticipate future misunderstandings? I wonder, you see, if I should expect to come across you again?”
“Who can tell? London is a small city, Lady Hadley.”
“No, Captain. It isn’t.” A flush of anger heated her cheeks. “Last night you expressed a wish that we spend as little time as possible in each other’s company, and this morning I find myself more than willing to accommodate you while you remain in London.”
He indicated the garden with a sweep of his hand. “You’re doing a poor job of it so far, for here you are.”
She squeezed the ball in her hand until her palm began to ache. “My sister was disturbed by the news of my adventure last night, and she summoned me here today. I could hardly refuse to see her, could I?”
Another faint smiled drifted across his lips. “I don’t see why not. She’d rather you kept away from whorehouses as well, and you’ve refused her that.”
“Yes, and how convenient for us all you were there to rescue me.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip to control her temper. “However did we manage, I wonder, before the heroic Captain West returned to London to call me to account for my many sins?”
His gaze shot to her mouth, but he tore it away at once, his jaw going hard. “Are your sins so legion, Lady Hadley? I can only guess you managed poorly if you’ve committed such a prodigious number of them.”
A tiny shiver darted down her spine at the look in his eyes, but she managed a casual shrug. “Oh my, yes. It’s a great pity I’ve become so wicked, but then we can’t all be heroes, can we?” She smiled as his face darkened with anger. How satisfying it was to tweak the righteous, especially the smug, heroic ones.
He stepped closer to her, so close the tips of his boots nearly touched her slippers. “So you’ve chosen to be a scandal, instead? If you were my sister, I’d haul you off to the country and keep you under lock and key until you learned proper behavior.”
“Would you? How barbaric.” She gave him a taunting smile. “Why not just turn me over your knee and be done with it?”
His lips parted, and he dragged the tip of his riding crop over his palm. “Don’t tempt me.”
Heat surged through her and sent her pulse skittering madly, but she ignored it and stepped into him until they were toe to toe. “I’m not your sister, Captain West, or indeed anyone at all to you, and as that is the case, I’ll thank you to stay out of my affairs.”
“Affairs. Liaisons. Scandals.” He moved closer still so he towered over her, his broad shoulders shutting out the sun. “You did say you prefer precise words, my lady.”
“Oh, I do.” She wetted suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “Here are some other words, Captain. Widow. Wealthy. Marchioness.”
His gaze dropped to her lips again, and his eyes burned. When he spoke, his voice had roughened. “With such words at your disposal, you can’t imagine a mere captain in His Majesty’s service is a threat to you, can you?”
“I confess it did cross my mind last night when you dragged me upstairs and ordered me to hike up my skirts under pretense of thinking me a whore.” She caught her breath, stunned both by her own words, and the sudden heat in his eyes.
His blistering gaze raked over her. “I doubt I’m the first.”
Charlotte went still, sure she must have misheard him, but the words echoed in the silence, their meaning unmistakable. The heat pulsing though her body vanished and she shivered in the sudden chill, but she forced herself to lift her chin and meet his eyes. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Captain.”
The tremor in her voice made her furious. Why should it matter to her what he thought? He’d only said aloud what everyone in London was thinking—that she was a scandal, an embarrassment to her family, a disgrace to her dead husband’s name, and very likely a whore into the bargain.
Julian’s face had gone white. “I shouldn’t have said…I didn’t mean—”
“Of course you did,” she said, as coldly as she could, because she didn’t want his regret, and she didn’t want to think about the trace of fear she’d seen in his eyes when those hateful words left his mouth. “Now, Amelia and I are going to have a game of bowls. Once we’ve finished, I give you my word I will not appear at Bedford Square again.”
He seemed to make an effort to gather himself together. “As I said last night, Lady Hadley, you’ll excuse me if I don’t rely on any promise of yours.”
“You may rely on it or not as you choose, but I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” She managed a cool smile, but she couldn’t quite resist one parting shot. “You see, Captain? Even a whore can have a code of honor.”
Ah, yes. There it was—the flush of shame she’d hoped for.
But oddly, it didn’t make her feel any better.