10. Chapter Ten

Chapter ten

C harlotte shuffled through her dresses. Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, more of her clothing had been destroyed. All of it, to be precise. Holes had been poked into every single garment, even her favorite day dress with purple flowers and ivory trim. Adding insult to injury, grass stains marred the new pink gown that Hugh favored.

After an afternoon of slumber, instead of feeling rested, Charlotte fumed as she tapped her foot. Turning her back to the wardrobe, she faced her sobbing lady’s maid.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I swear on my life, I did not do this.” Tears and mucus dripped from the poor girl’s chin.

“I know, Lucy.” Without a doubt, one of her stepmother’s maids had performed the destructive deed. These women were so cruel they made a hangman seem like an eager- to-please puppy.

“If I was here, sleeping all afternoon, someone would have to have done it last night. Did you see anyone around my chamber?” Charlotte asked.

Lucy snuffled as she stared at Charlotte with wide, unblinking eyes.

Charlotte adored her lady’s maid, but after the past twenty-four hours, she had no patience for blubbering. “What is it, Lucy?”

“I did not see anyone enter your chamber.” Using her sleeve, the girl swiped at her drenched cheeks. “I was hiding in the stairwell, watching the dancing last night.” Lucy brought her hand to her heart. “All of the gowns were so beautiful. But not a one was as pretty as yours. You sparkled like a fairytale princess.”

Hugh had made Charlotte feel as though she were the most beautiful woman in the world, which was akin to being a fairytale princess. But the magical moments had ended traumatically. Then she’d slept the afternoon away as her handsome prince lay injured. And now, there was entirely too much to do to relive every second of her evening and fret over less-than-perfect frocks.

Sighing, she pulled her favorite dress from the wardrobe. “Lucy, help me into this. I must see my father before dinner. Then I have other errands to attend to.”

Lucy gasped. “My lady, you cannot be seen in that. Lady Chesterhill will have an apoplexy. Some of the guests stayed on for a few days. Oh, how their tongues will wag. ‘Lady Charlotte, the daughter of one of the wealthiest aristocrats in England, dressing like a guttersnipe'.”

Losing her temper with her lady’s maid would serve no purpose other than causing them both to feel terrible, and it would make Charlotte no better than her tyrant of a stepmother. She breathed through her frustration.

“It will have to do for now because I must see my father posthaste. Now, pull yourself together and help me dress. Without your assistance, I shall have to navigate the halls in my night clothes with my hair hanging about in tangles.”

“Egads! That will not do.” Lucy grasped the edge of Charlotte’s night dress and yanked it over her head.

Charlotte stood in front of her mirror. Luckily, Lucy was a marvel at coiffures. Intricate braids twirled and looped, almost overshadowing the disgraceful peepholes in Charlotte’s dress.

“You look lovely,” Lucy said.

Hopefully, Hugh would stare into her eyes with such fervor that he would not notice the damaged frock.

“I will get to work fixing your other garments,” Lucy said.

“Thank you.” Dare Charlotte ask her next question? It was so bold and indecent. But wasn’t her goal to be more assertive? And to do so, she required assistance. As much as she loved her father and brother, they would not understand, making Lucy the only person in the household she could trust.

Before she could change her mind, Charlotte blurted, “Would you please retrieve your sewing kit? I need you to stay here and ensure no one enters my chamber and destroys anything else.” Or hurt her kitten or stole the pin money she'd hidden in her walking boots. “And, by the by, I will not be sleeping in my bed this evening, so you may slumber here. I believe you shall find it cozy indeed.”

Charlotte tiptoed past Lady Chesterhill’s chamber. She simply did not have time for an altercation and was unsure she could hold her tongue. Once she reached the end of the hallway, she dashed down a back stairwell until she reached her father’s study. Unfortunately, two visiting lords and her brother sat with her father. The four of them smoked cheroots and discussed horses.

Charlotte closed her eyes and exhaled. Upon opening them, she pulled her shoulders back and brazenly entered the smokey room. “Papa, I must speak to you about an urgent matter,” she declared.

Papa’s gaze slid from her face to one of the holes in her skirt, and he blanched. She had no idea how the other men reacted to her interruption, or her gown, since she focused on mirroring her frowning brother. That should teach him to glare at her.

Lord Coldpepper tapped out his cheroot and stood. “Lady Coldpepper is expecting me. I will see you all at dinner.”

Distinguishing his cigar, Lord Jennings also excused himself and followed Coldpepper out the door.

“Charlie, what has gotten into you?” Alexander asked.

Charlotte planted a hand on her hip. “If you plan to scowl at me the entire time, I’d prefer you left.”

“See what I mean, Father? She’s developed an attitude, and I suspect it has something to do with that scoundrel you’ve invited to stay in our gardener’s cottage.”

Charlotte harrumphed. “It has more to do with Lady Chesterhill’s unrelenting abuse. ”

“Charlotte Beckett,” Papa reprimanded.

Alexander huffed. “I wish someone would tell me what that man is doing here?”

Heavens, her brother could be difficult, so she’d have to steer the conversation away from Hugh. She plopped onto one of the recently vacated chairs and prioritized her list of questions.

“Papa, please tell me what you and Lady Chesterhill are up to?” seemed the perfect place to start.

Papa exhaled as he propped his chin on his steepled fingers. His gaze slid back and forth between his children.

Charlotte’s heart sank to her belly. His skin was a sickly pallor, and lines of red crisscrossed the whites of his eyes. Her dear Papa was run down. Or depressed. Or ill. Maybe all of the above.

“Mr. Fletcher is The Duke of Asleyshire’s cousin. He got himself into trouble with the magistrate, so William asked me to look out for him. Meanwhile, I hired Mr. Fletcher to look into some of my business holdings.” Papa waved a dismissive hand. “’Tis all rather boring and has to do with some of our tenants. I do not want my children to fret over the details.”

“Father, I’ve told you I want to be involved in all business decisions, and I need to be aware of our tenant’s needs. If anything ever happened to you….” Alexander winced. “How in the hell does a Bow Street Runner get himself into trouble with the magistrate? I’m telling you Hugh Fletcher is a reprobate.”

She had not known he was a Bow Street Runner. And why might he be in trouble? Every part of Alexander’s declaration pricked Charlotte’s heart. Hugh may have been a reprobate, but he was her reprobate who smelled of ginger and made her feel special. And, despite their silly sibling tiffs, Alexander and Charlotte loved each other and their father dearly. They would struggle to find happiness without him.

Papa stared at his shoes before meeting Alexander’s gaze. “You will be apprised of all matters that affect our tenants.”

Alexander did not look any more placated than Charlotte felt.

“Papa,” she said, “I see something worries you. You spend too much time alone in your study, and you look unwell. Please tell us what troubles you.”

“Good lord, the two of you do fret worse than a mama bear. I am fine. Now, let us head to dinner. I confess I will be happy once all of our guests are gone. Lady Chesterhill’s constant social events tire me. Mayhap that is why I look unwell.”

Alexander grasped the brandy glass sitting next to him and gulped. “Can we go back to why our gardener has moved into the main house and why that arse is convalescing on our property?”

Something needed to be done about Alexander and his dashed obsession with Hugh.

“I’ve explained. Mr. Fletcher is simply investigating business items of little consequence. Meanwhile, I can honor my promise to the duke,” Papa said.

Alexander scoffed. “Then why was he alone in the gardens with our Charlie? Nash said they were indecently close.”

“Lord Nash has designs on me and fabricated an absurd story,” Charlotte said. Please do not let Lucifer come for her soul. But the truth would lead to another beating for Hugh, and his battered body could not take much more.

“Charlie, you are to stay away from Fletcher,” Papa said.

“Of course,” she lied for the second time in the last moment. “He is nothing but a scoundrel. No decent woman would be caught alone with him.” Dear God in heaven, forgive her .

Papa stood and swiped his hands back and forth in a that-is-that gesture. “Now that everything is settled, let us head to dinner.”

Charlotte and Alexander had no choice but to follow their father.

If Alexander did not cease rubbing his temple, he might very well scrub off a layer of skin. “Why do I feel like I have just been bamboozled by you both?” he asked.

Because the two of them were lying like thieving scalawags. “Because you fret too much,” Charlotte said, clasping her brother’s forearm.

“Alexander, my boy, ’tis time you take a wife,” Papa said. “A woman’s love might help you relax. ’Tis said a good woman cures a man’s anxiety.”

“No one has ever said that,” Alexander mumbled. “’Tis a bald-faced lie.”

Ah, yes. A woman would provide the perfect distraction for her brother.

“Why Alexander, I dare say, the lady in the peacock mask you spoke with last night was lovely? Did you learn her name?” Charlotte asked.

“Off to dinner. I’m quite famished. Come, nosey girl.” Alexander wrapped his arm around Charlotte’s waist and guided her into the hallway.