Chapter 16

Sixteen

C harlene's heart pounded as her parents moved toward the door of the drawing room. She followed them, her footsteps slow as she looked at Drew. When he refused to meet her gaze, the small spark of hope he might speak up sputtered, and was snuffed out.

In the main hall, Polly was helping everyone with their cloaks, stepping forward with bright eyes but silent lips.

As Charlene was bundled up, she stopped and looked at her mother. "What of John?"

Her mother sniffed. "We'll send the coach back to collect him and your things."

"I'll ensure John is ready to travel when the carriage returns, and I'll have your things packed as well, Lady Charlene." Polly curtsied and backed away from the group. It was all very proper. All so different to how things had been, but minutes ago.

Polly was looking at her as though she expected the young woman to object to something. But what could she say? Drew hadn't spoken up to claim her, or even suggested they might see each other again. He had just caved to her father's threat about his business. He was letting her walk away without even a token protest.

All she could say was, "Thank you, Polly."

"Of course, my lady." Polly disappeared.

Drew opened the front door to reveal her parent's coach waiting for them. "I wish you safe travels, Lady Charlene." He bowed to her then turned to her father. "Lord Brookhaven." And finally, to her mother. "Lady Brookhaven."

Charlene wanted to correct him, remind him she should have been addressed last as the least consequential person in the trio, but she suspected he had made a conscious choice to address her first. She nodded curtly. "Mr. Wentworth. I appreciate your very kind hospitality under the inauspicious circumstances."

He seemed to want to say something more, and for a moment her heart lurched in her chest. Would he say something? Stop her from leaving?

When she'd awoken that morning and found him watching her, she had thought for a moment he might say something then. Her heart had certainly skipped a few beats, and she'd looked at him and realized how deeply she'd fallen in love with the bloody man.

It wasn't particularly a shock to her. She'd suspected after their first night together, and last night had only confirmed her inklings. But as she had hesitated in hopes he might speak up, all hope was dashed when he merely nodded.

Nodded. After all they had shared.

With a sigh, she headed out to her parent's coach and saw John's son sitting atop the driver's box. As she approached, she looked up at him. "Your father is doing well, though he was injured in an accident."

"Do get in the coach, Charlene." Her father bit out, impatient for her to alight. He glared at John's son. "You'll have to come back with a dog cart to collect your father and Charlene's luggage."

Since she was in the coach, all she heard was a murmured response and the door of the carriage was closed. All three inhabitants, warm and nestled in blankets, rocked as the coach lurched forward.

As they rolled toward Brookhaven, her intended destination, Charlene focused on breathing. If she didn't quiet her mind, she knew she would burst into tears she had no way of explaining to her parents. With each mile they traveled, the hole in her heart grew larger and larger.

He didn't want her.

Not now that he'd gotten what he wanted.

Charlene repressed her sigh and stared out the window at the snow covered landscape that slipped past.

The silence in the coach hung thick, redolent with outrage and anger. Finally, her mother huffed a loud breath. "I do not understand you, Charlene. You have a betrothed who has expressed a tad of worry about you, by the way. What was the meaning of you running away in such a fashion?"

Charlene inhaled sharply. "I have no betrothed. I told you both and him that I refuse to marry him. That was why I ran. I shall not be a broodmare for you to barter with, as though I am your property and not a person." She glared at her father as she said the last few words.

He inhaled a long, slow breath. "You will do as you're told, Charlene. You are no child fresh out of the schoolroom. But you leave us with no choice but to treat you as one. The servants have all been instructed not to aid you in your antics or they will be dismissed."

"Father!" Charlie gasped, horrified. "That's monstrous! You're monstrous! How could you do such a thing to our loyal servants?"

Her father drew a breath and released a weary, shuddering sigh. "We gave you plenty of time to do it your way, to meet a man who met your standards." His weary look became stern. "But none met with your approval. Apparently. I did what any father would do when faced with the prospect of a spinster daughter. I selected a husband for you, one who is an upstanding and well-respected peer of the realm. You should be grateful."

Charlene laughed bitterly. "Yes, he is the perfect model of an aristocratic husband. Willing to slap a woman when she steps out of line and probably still sleeping with his mistress—after all, why should he be expected to give up such entertainments? Certainly not on my account," she sneered. "It would seem you are more concerned about the scandal and saving face than you are of my well-being. I hadn't realized I was such a burden that you needed to unload me like chattle. How much exactly did you have to pay him to get him to agree to marry me?"

Her father growled, and her mother gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Charlene!"

She looked at her mother, at the woman who loved her—but apparently not enough to protect her. "I merely wish to know what I'm worth? Or was I sold at Cheapside prices? Lord Fenwick certainly minced no words in making it clear what my place would be. Bearing his babes is apparently all I am fit for."

Her mother gasped yet again, yet Charlene did not cease her words. She couldn't, now that the words were pouring from her.

"And—"

"And nothing," interrupted her father curtly. "He is a perfectly respectable husband. You two may need time to get to know each other, to find some level of accord such as your mother and I have found over the years. I assure you, this is what is best for you." Her father appeared to be done with the conversation.

Exhausted by her fruitless fight, Charlene fell silent as the coach rolled inexorably forward. As they grew closer and closer to Brookhaven, she knew there would be no second escape for her. Her fate was sealed.

At least she had the memories of Drew's touch to carry her through the long, lonely years ahead. If not for him, she wasn't sure she would be able to face what lay ahead.

The coach rocked monotonously. How long would she have before her sham wedding occurred? Did it matter? Numbness settled in to her bones.

Would anything ever matter again?