20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter twenty

C harlotte had finished crying hours ago. At first despondent, she eventually composed herself and was now thinking clearly. How could she have ever doubted Hugh? He was kind and gentle, while her stepmother and Leon had proven themselves to be dishonest beasts. Lady Chesterhill was simply attempting to unsettle her. She would face the woman at dinner with her head held high. After night fell, she would outsmart Leon and sneak back to the cottage. Once she told Hugh what the pair was up to, he would help her put a stop to it.

Lucy chatted away as she braided and twisted Charlotte’s hair into delicate loops.

Charlotte tried to pay attention to the anecdote. Truly, she did, but she was preoccupied with her dilemma. She nodded enthusiastically while listening to a story about Cook slapping one of the footmen with a spatula. On her life, she could not recall why the incident had happened or why Lucy thought it humorous.

Lucy pushed the last pearl hairpin into place and met Charlotte’s gaze in the mirror. “You look beautiful, my lady.”

Her eyes were still red from blubbering, but her intricately coiffed hair and pearl jewelry suited her. Charlotte feigned a smile.

“What is wrong? Why do you look so crestfallen? I was able to fix two of your best dresses last night.” Lucy strode to the wardrobe to withdraw a cream gown adorned with delicate embroidered roses. She held it up for Charlotte’s inspection. “You cannot even tell that there was a rip in the skirt.”

“You are a masterful seamstress,” Charlotte said with sincerity.

Lucy hung the garment in its place and reached for a yellow satin dress. She paused, leaving the frock undisturbed, and then scampered back to Charlotte’s side.

“Something heavy weighs on your heart. Mayhap I can help.” Lucy grasped Charlotte’s hand and guided her to the bed.

The women sat side-by-side as if they were sisters instead of a lady and her maid. Since Charlotte craved a companion to talk to, she clasped Lucy’s hand affectionately.

“I know you, Charlotte Beckett. You may be smiling, but you are forlorn.”

While feeling sorry for herself, Charlotte had forgotten that she had a friend. Thank heavens for Lucy.

“Does this have anything to do with the gentleman staying in Reginald’s cottage?” Lucy asked.

Charlotte gasped. Reginald was the most discrete and loyal of her father’s staff. Had Lady Chesterhill somehow commandeered his loyalties ?

“How do you know about the man staying at the gardener’s cottage?” she asked.

“Everyone is talking about him,” Lucy said. “They say is quite handsome.”

“He is,” Charlotte agreed much too readily. She must temper her enthusiasm lest she betray her feelings. “What else are they saying?”

“I do not want to be a gossip monger.”

What a silly declaration since Lucy had just spent an eternity repeating a story about Cook’s altercation with a footman.

“’Tis not gossiping if you tell me. I am the lady of the house.” She refused to admit that her stepmother was officially the lady of the house.

Lucy’s chin bobbed up and down. “True. You should know what the staff are saying.”

“Precisely.”

“Well—” Lucy peered around the room, which was silly indeed since they were alone. Then she leaned close to Charlotte. “They say he is the Duke of Astleyshire’s cousin. He was injured in a fight and is working for Lord Chesterhill.”

Here was Charlotte’s chance to discover the truth of what was going on. “What kind of work is he doing for my father?”

Lucy’s eyes grew wide. “I do not know, my lady. But…well, there are such rumors.”

“What rumors?” Unfortunately, the tittle-tattle was probably about her, and not hearsay at all. Charlotte held her breath and waited.

“I cannot say. They are much too indecent for a lady like yourself to hear.”

Why had she thought she could keep her indiscretion with Hugh a secret? If Lady Chesterhill had discovered it, others would also know. Besides, Lucy was aware that she had not come home last night. The girl was not daft. Obviously, she could fit the pieces together.

Still, Charlotte needed to know the details. “Please tell me what is being said,” she pleaded.

Lucy squeezed her eyes closed and spoke quickly. “The man in the cottage tried to force himself on Lady Chesterhill.” She exhaled and opened her eyes.

For the third time that day, it felt as if a knife was shoved into Charlotte’s heart.

“What?”

“It seems they were once lovers, but Lady Chesterhill ended their relationship. Is that not why you are upset? Finding out that your stepmother had a lover besides your father?”

“Nay.” Charlotte stood and paced.

Lucy wrung her hands, and a few tears dripped down her cheeks. “I told you that I did not want to tell you untoward things.”

Charlotte halted in front of Lucy. “’Tis lies. All lies.”

“You would know, my lady,” Lucy said, her voice quivering.

Charlotte would know—and she did know. Hugh would not force himself on any woman. Why would he need to? He was the most handsome, desirable man in the world. Every woman with blood coursing through her veins would find him attractive.

Charlotte’s lungs seized, making it impossible to take in a full breath. “Please excuse me,” she called over her shoulder as she escaped the suffocating confines of her chamber.

As usual, watching Cricket munch on her apple calmed Charlotte’s frazzled nerves.

“She is having a good day, she is,” Billy stroked the goat’s back. “Of course, she is happy every day.”

Despite her dejected mood, Charlotte smiled.

“You do not have to pretend to be happy if you are sad,” Billy said. “Not around me, my lady. I am a good listener if you would like to talk.”

“You are a good friend.” Charlotte must stop feeling sorry for herself and remember that Billy and Lucy cared for her. As did Papa and Alexander despite their preoccupation with other things. “I find myself much cheered after spending time with you and Cricket,” she said, because it was indeed true.

Billy beamed at her.

“Thank you for all you do,” Charlotte said. “I must return to the main house.”

“Of course, my lady. Enjoy your dinner. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow.” She kissed Cricket on the forehead and waved goodbye to Billy.

Enough of your gloomy moods, Charlotte, she chided herself as she trekked across the lawn to the servant’s entrance.

“Lady Charlotte,” someone called from behind her.

She turned. Lord Nash strolled toward her, his walking stick digging into the grass. What in the dickens was he doing on the back lawn? Had he been following her? Fighting her desire to flee his presence, she waited for him to catch up to her .

“I spent the afternoon speaking with your father. I dare say, you were quite difficult to find,” he said.

“Why are you trying to find me? We really should not be alone without a chaperone.”

“And yet you sneak off with that devil Fletcher, whenever you have the chance.”

She should deny the accusation, but what was the point? She sucked on her jaw until her temper was in check and then calmly asked, “Lord Nash, have you been following me?”

“I would prefer you call me George now that we are officially engaged.”

“But we are not engaged.” And they never would be.

“Indeed, we are. That is what I spoke to your father about, and he has given his consent.”

A fire-like rage burned behind her eyeballs. “But I have not consented.”

“Your father and I agree, ’tis in your best interest. Sometimes women need the men in their lives to make the important decisions, especially when a chit is young and misguided.”

At a loss for words, Charlotte stared at the bacon-headed idiot.

His knuckles turned white as his walking stick dug a hole in the grass. “I am sure that once you spend time with me, you will come to love me.”

Never! Not when he thought her a misguided chit and did not give two farthings about her opinion. Not if he were the last man on Earth.

“Please excuse me.” She turned on her heel and stomped toward the house.

“I dare say, Charlotte, do calm yourself,” he called after her. “And you would do well to remember that I forbid you to go near Hugh Fletcher. ”

“Bugger off, Lord Nash. And you would do well to remember not to follow me,” she called back.

Dinner was unbearable. At least the guests who had overstayed their welcome had finally departed, and Lord Nash was not in attendance. Although the despicable beast would probably tell her father about her unladylike language the next time he visited.

Lady Chesterhill’s pointed glares filled Charlotte with dread. Even from across the table, Charlotte felt vibrations from Alexander’s tapping foot. And as usual, Papa stared into space, preoccupied with something. At least the silence allowed her to concentrate on her plan as she pushed fish and potatoes around her plate.

Once Papa dismissed them for the evening, she dashed down the hall and up the stairs. Thankfully, Lucy sat beside the balcony window, a pink silk gown upon her lap. A cool breeze blew across the chamber, changing Charlotte’s misgivings to hope.

Lucy held up the frock. “Almost like new,” she said. “But I am afraid your emerald gown is damaged beyond repair. ’Tis as if a pirate slashed it with his sword.”

“Lucy, would you do something for me?” Charlotte asked.

“Of course, my lady. Anything you need.”

“May I borrow your dress and cloak?”

“But it is a bit warm for a cloak.”

“It matters not,” Charlotte said.

“If you wish. But I have repaired so many of your dresses, and they are lovely. Surely, you do not want this. ’ Tis from last season.” Sighing, Lucy peered down at the skirt of her light blue dress that had once belonged to Charlotte.

Dare she trust Lucy with the truth? Charlotte only needed to study Lucy’s concerned countenance for a moment to reach her conclusion.

“Lady Chesterhill means to keep me a prisoner in this house,” she declared.

Lucy’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “She is a disagreeable woman, indeed.”

“Indeed,” Charlotte said. “If I wear your dress and cloak, everyone will believe I am you, and I can sneak away. Meanwhile, you shall stay in my chamber again tonight. If anyone enters the room, hide beneath the counterpane and pretend to be asleep.”

Unblinking, eyes wide, Lucy nodded her acquiescence. “I do hope Lord Nash proposes soon. I do not want your reputation to be ruined, and mayhap then you will not be so glum.”

Apparently, Lucy had not yet heard that Papa had promised her to Nash. “But I do not wish to marry Lord Nash.” The thought of him made Charlotte itch so severely it was as if insects crawled along her limbs.

“Then why are you sneaking off to be with him?” Lucy asked.

“I am not sneaking off to be with him.”

“I do not understand,” Lucy said. “Then why have you been crying and who are you meeting?”

Moaning, Charlotte rubbed her forehead. “I am afraid I have fallen head over heels for the man staying in the cottage. His name is Hugh Fletcher. I fancy him so.” She had already cried enough, so she swallowed hard to ward off her impending tears. “I believe Lady Chesterhill started the salacious rumors about him. ”

Lucy gasped. “But why would she do such a thing? What will Lord Chesterhill say?”

Charlotte had been asking those same questions all afternoon. “I do not know why, other than she despises me so much that she aims to crush my heart. And my father is too preoccupied with something else to notice her nefarious deeds.”

“Oh, my lady, my heart does hurt for you.” Lucy stood. “I will return in a few moments.”

“Where are you going?” Charlotte asked.

“To retrieve my cloak,” Lucy declared as she clasped Charlotte in a warm hug.

Charlotte’s disguise worked. She marched out the servant’s entrance with nary a nod in her direction. Then, she trekked to the cottage without incident. Despite the wavering emotions she had felt most of the day, she confidently knocked on Hugh’s door.

There was no answer.

Since the cottage was dark, he was probably asleep. She nudged the door open and stepped inside, aiming the lantern into the corners.

No Hugh. How utterly disappointing. Although someone had left a large stack of newspapers.

She set the basket and lantern on the table and rummaged through the supplies she had left earlier. It seemed Hugh had eaten the bacon and the rest of the pie. She arranged thick slices of ham, a wedge of cheese, and a loaf of fresh bread on the table. Once Hugh returned, they could enjoy a light repast and then make love for hours.

Her overpowering desire knocked the breath from her lungs and left an ache between her thighs. Oh, the things he had done to her quivering lady parts with his tongue. Her cheeks burned from the memory and then heated even more as she considered asking him to do it again. She might even take his manhood in her mouth and taste it. If it was as delectable as the rest of him, she was in for a scrumptious feast. Her mouth watered.

She knew exactly how to pass the time. She would recall all of the pictures in The Secret Life of Gentlemen and imagine imitating the various positions with Hugh. “Oh,” she gasped at the memory of the illustration of the man kneeling before the woman who had taken his length into her mouth. She moaned as her body tingled.

The memory of her discarded stays sidetracked Charlotte from her fantasies. She should place them in the basket, so she did not forget them in the morning.

Lantern in hand, she crawled beneath the bed to search for them. Unfortunately, one edge of the fabric was lodged beneath a massive wooden trunk that had been pushed into the corner. It took all her strength to move the monstrous box a fraction of an inch. There was no way she would be able to free her stays. Hugh would have to help her.

While preparing to stand, a slip of paper caught her eye. She scooped it up, held it close to the light, and read, Mistresses. At the top of the list was the name Lady Mary Ravenforde.

She scanned the note, her gaze landing on Suzannah Devlin. What the dickens? Suzannah Devlin was her stepmother’s name before she married her father .

“Please, no,” Charlotte murmured as every accusation against Hugh came back to her.

Nay, this could not be a list of Hugh’s lovers. She believed in him. She trusted him. She might even love him.

And then her heart split in two.

“You are a fool, Charlotte Beckett,” she whispered. Just because she was falling in love with him did not mean he reciprocated the feeling.

The halves of her heart split into shards. She plopped onto the chair and sat in stunned silence.

She remained catatonic, bewildered, and heartbroken for a very long while. Eventually, she found the resolve to stand. She could not stay there awaiting Hugh’s return. In fact, she could not face him ever again. He was probably at this very minute with one of his lovers—maybe even her stepmother. “Bluck.” She choked down her sob.

As betrayed as she felt, she did not want Hugh to go hungry, so she left him the food and retrieved her lantern. Moving at a snail’s pace, she mindlessly wandered home.

She was almost to her chamber when someone grabbed her shoulder. “Lucy, is my sister still awake?”

She swung around to face Alexander.

“Charlie, what the blazes?”

She did not have the strength or desire to offer an excuse for why she was wandering about in Lucy’s clothing. “What do you want?” she asked, exhaustion lacing her question.

“Father wishes to speak to you in his study.”

Shoulders slumped, she followed Alexander down the hallway.

Her father sat behind his massive desk, looking as ill as Charlotte felt. Something was quite wrong. She rushed to his side .

“Papa, are you unwell?”

“Please have a seat, my darling girl.”

This could not be good because he had not called her my darling girl in forever.

She sat beside Alexander, and then, preparing for the worst, she leaned forward and waited.

“Lord Nash visited earlier today.”

Invisible insects tiptoed up her arms and across her shoulders.

“He has asked for your hand in marriage, and I have consented.”

“Nay.” Charlotte leaped from her seat. “How could you? I will never agree to marry him.”

“I am afraid it has been arranged,” her father said.

“I will not do it,” she said.

Alexander sighed. “Charlie, you must marry. You do not want to be an on-the-shelf spinster.”

“I would rather be a spinster than marry George.”

“Be reasonable,” her father said. “He comes from a fine family and has a considerable fortune. You shall never want for anything.”

“I hate him,” she spat out.

“Look at it this way,” Alexander said. “Once you marry, you can leave this place, and you never have to deal with our stepmother again. I, for one, would take that deal in a second if I had the option.”

“Alexander,” Papa scolded.

“Good God, Father, how daft can you be? The woman abuses Charlie, and she treats me as if…”

Papa squinted at Alexander. “How does she treat you?”

“Never mind,” Alexander said .

Her brother was aware of her predicament. Was she relieved he had noticed or furious that he had never done anything to protect her?

Charlotte plopped onto Alexander’s lap and hugged him. He played with a loose tendril of her hair as he hugged her back. Once their embrace ended, she punched him in the shoulder.

“Ouch.” Alexander rubbed his arm. “What the blazes has gotten into you?”

“You knew, and you never stood up for me? Or even consoled me?”

Alexander cringed. “I do stand up for you. I assure you. ’Tis just that…”

Did Lady Chesterhill also abuse Alexander? Had Charlotte been too self-centered to notice?

At that second, Charlotte felt a kinship with her brother that she had not experienced since Suzannah had shown up on their doorstep.

Charlotte unleashed her anger on her father. “I will not marry Lord Nash.” She stood and pulled her shoulders back. “And, Papa, it is about time you know, I detest your despicable wife. How can you allow her to abuse me? What would mother say from her grave?”

“Charlie is correct,” Alexander said. “Although, I agree with Father. You should marry George.”

“Augh, men!” She turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

“Charlotte Beckett, get back here,” her father called.

He could bellow for days, it would not make a difference. Her heart might be shattered, but she would stand up for herself. She would stab Lord Nash before she agreed to marry him, and Lady Suzannah Chesterhill had gone too far. And as for Hugh Fletcher? Well… he had better enjoy his dinner because she would never take him another meal or visit the cottage again.