Chapter 13

Charlotte felt her ire bubbling. By and large, she was a very even tempered person and rarely was roused to anger. But there was some underlying current in Georgianna Cranford’s words, some implication that was not immediately apparent. “I do enjoy the Marquess’ company, Mrs. Cranford. And I have every reason to believe he enjoys mine. I hardly think that warrants so much of your attention, however. Given your newly married state, one would think you might be more concerned with your own husband than any marital prospects on my horizon.”

Around them several people gasped, others still stared on with eyes wide and anticipation fairly vibrating from them. What was it, Charlotte wondered, about discord that others found so terribly entertaining?

Mrs. Cranford drew back as if wounded. “I meant no offense, Miss Mulberry. In truth, I wish you only happiness. I understand why you might feel justified in doubting my motives… alas, the heart cannot be governed so rigidly as the more practical matters of marriage.”

Charlotte stared at the woman half in amusement, half in stunned disbelief. She most certainly had meant offense. With every word and deed since they’d arrived, and possibly before, she’d intended offense. To see her so effectively playing the role of victim in front of an all but captive audience was a puzzle, one that Charlotte had no answer for.

“I think, Mrs. Cranford, for the sake of harmony in Mrs. Whitlow’s home, we should endeavor to avoid further interaction,” Charlotte suggested.

Mrs. Cranford made a face as if she were deeply wounded at the suggestion but nodded and then walked away, all the while affecting the posture of a kicked dog. It was a piece of theater worthy of Drury Lane.

“She is far more devious than I’d anticipated,” Regina Cavender whispered next to Charlotte’s ear. “And I’d anticipated that she was very devious to start. Be cautious in her presence. Be cautious in all things. I’ve no notion what her ultimate goal is, but she will play the wounded party for anyone who will bother to note it. The woman is a master manipulator.”

“I’m beginning to see that. I’m beginning to see that perhaps Arliss was not the villain I initially thought him. I think perhaps he may simply be another victim of her scheming.”

“Save your sympathy for those who deserve it. Faithless men do not warrant it… ah, and my brother has returned,” Regina said.

Charlotte looked up, seeing the Ethan enter the drawing room. His hair was wind blown, but it did nothing to detract from his handsomeness. The disarray of his dark locks lent him a rakishness that she found remarkably appealing.

“He looks quite pleased with himself,” Regina noted. “I’d dare to guess that his mission was successful.”

“I certainly hope so,” Charlotte replied, unaware of the wistful note in her voice.

“Are you certain you wish to do this so quickly?”

Ethan glanced at his sister. “Quickly? You, of all people, know how long I’ve dreamed of making Charlotte Mulberry my wife.”

Regina sighed. “Yes, and I think she is an excellent choice of bride for you, but for seven years she’s been this perfect and unattainable thing for you. Now, she is very real and very much within your reach. What if the reality cannot match the fantasy of her you’ve created?”

“What if the reality of her exceeds that fantasy?” he demanded, meeting his sister’s worried gaze. “I cannot risk letting this opportunity pass me by, Regina. I want Charlotte for my wife. And I believe we can be quite happy together.”

“You might practice a bit of patience for her sake, you know? She’s hardly had time to come to terms with her broken engagement before finding herself suddenly betrothed to another! Wouldn’t it be better, Ethan, to wait until you knew her heart as you do your own?”

“Ideally, we could do that. But with Georgianna Cranford plotting against her, that is not a chance we can take,” he replied.

She threw her hands up, a sign of both exasperation and acceptance. “You’ll do what you want. I only hope that neither of you has cause to regret it.”

Ethan didn’t let her doubts sway him. He understood only too well where Regina’s concerns were coming from. Her marriage, brief though it had been, had been terribly unhappy. James Cavender had been a bounder through and through, but one who was quite skilled at camouflaging his very flawed character. “She’s not like him. For seven years, I’ve watched her and she has never wavered. She was devoted to Cranford, not out to love but loyalty. And if that is not a testament to the true nature of her character, I cannot think what would be.”

“If Georgianna Cranford is plotting against her, and I do agree with your assessment that is likely,” Regina said, “You’ll need to be watchful against her schemes. I do not think Charlotte is worldly enough to appreciate just how diabolical a scorned woman can be.”

Ethan nodded. “We shall be married soon enough and she will be impervious to whatever wickedness Mrs. Cranford can stir against her.”

With that, Ethan left Regina in the corridor and entered the drawing room where the other guests had gathered again after dinner. The men had separated briefly for brandy and cigars, but he hadn’t partaken of either. As he stepped into that room, the license, now secured in his coat pocket, felt like a substantial weight—not because it was a burden, but because it represented the fulfillment of seven years of longing. His gaze immediately settled on the object of his affections.

In the dress Regina had insisted on giving her, Charlotte looked beautiful. Not that she didn’t always, but she did look like a marchioness and he knew that was important—not for himself, but for her. Battles between women were rarely ever straightforward, and they required a far more subtle armor. A new gown, something much finer than what she’d owned before, would give her that. He’d buy her a dozen just like it if need be.

Crossing the room to where she stood, he offered her his arm. “Shall we speak to Mrs. Whitlow about revealing our agreement?”

Charlotte placed her hand on his arm. “Most definitely.”

Escorting her to their hostess, he gave Mrs. Whitlow a brief nod. “I think we are quite ready to make that announcement, madame.”

Mrs. Whitlow clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, good heavens!” she cried out to the assembled crowd. “We have had a truly remarkable turn of events! The Marquess of Aimsbury has an announcement to make that I know will delight each and everyone of us!”

Ethan took his time, making sure everyone in the room was watching them. Then he spoke, “I’m pleased to inform you all that I have asked for Miss Charlotte Mulberry’s hand in marriage and she has consented, much to my delight, to be my wife.”

Many people cheered, some applauded, others looked puzzled. Whether that was because the normally moody Marquess was suddenly amiable or that there had been no previous indication of any attachment between them was truly anyone’s guess. But there were two people in the gathered crowd whose reaction was notable. Mrs. Georgianna Cranford appeared stone faced and resentful while Arliss Cranford just appeared completely stunned and perhaps a bit jealous.

Ethan took particular note of that. To his mind, if a man behaved dishonorably in one situation, he was likely to do so in another. Arliss Cranford had played badly with Charlotte’s feelings and her future security. The man’s jealousy did him no credit, but it did prompt far greater scrutiny of his behavior.