Chapter 14

CHAPTER

a

14

C harlotte stood in her dressing room and studied herself in the mirror. She'd fussed over her hair and gown, so she'd appear perfect when she strolled down to the lower parlors. Even though she was roiling with emotion, when she bumped into Win, she wanted to seem calm and beautiful.

She was checking too, to discover if she looked different. She was fully a woman now and no longer a girl, and she'd presumed there would be a sign that would indicate a significant modification, but she was exactly the same. Only her sly smile provided any indication that she wasn't the same person.

The most drastic of steps had been taken: She'd surrendered her virginity, with nary a thought to the consequences. Since she was very pragmatic, she couldn't comprehend why she'd participated. She was terribly fond of Win, to the point where she was probably in love, but a highborn man could promise all sorts of things. If he was lying, no one could make him deliver the marriage he'd sworn would transpire.

That fact was crystal clear, and she'd always vowed to never, ever succumb to passion unless she had a ring on her finger first. Well, she had a ring, but it hadn't been placed there in front of a vicar, with witnesses watching. If he subsequently claimed they weren't bound, what were her options?

As the alarming question arose, she shoved it away.

Her negative attitude was ruining what should be a happy morning. She had to cease her castigation. Wasn't she due for her bad luck to change to good? A marriage to Win would propel her back to the elevated society in which she'd been raised. She belonged in his world and she had to quit doubting herself. And him.

The whole carnal event had been divine, and she recognized that she shouldn't have allowed it to occur, but she had, so it was too late to fret. She was blaming her blithe acquiescence on the Dowager. During her conversation with the horrid shrew, the Dowager had been so hurtful, and Charlotte was extremely sensitive to slights about her mother.

She'd been so upset by the insults that had been hurled, and when Win had arrived in her bedchamber, his presence had soothed her weary soul like a comforting balm. She'd been so pleased to see him that she might have agreed to any type of mischief he suggested, merely so she wouldn't be alone.

She inhaled a deep breath, twirled in a circle to assess every inch of her outfit, then she started out, and she was giddy as a child at Christmas. She couldn't guess how she and Win would interact, but she would show him—by her every word and deed—that she was the very best choice to be his bride.

She went out to the hall and was headed for the stairs, when suddenly, Polly hurried around the corner. To Charlotte's consternation, she was attired for traveling, and Charlotte halted and frowned.

"Miss Charlotte!" she said, sounding incredibly anxious. "I'm so relieved that I found you."

"What's wrong? What's happening?"

"I'm leaving for school. Immediately. The maids helped me pack."

"You're going now?"

"Yes, but I don't want to. The Earl is out of the house, so I won't have a chance to thank him or tell him goodbye, and I can't abide the notion of being separated from you. Could you do something?"

"Did you say the Earl is away?"

"Yes. I asked if I could talk to him, but I was told he left at dawn."

"To what destination?"

"No one knows. He saddled a horse and galloped off before any of the grooms were awake."

Charlotte was bewildered by the news. Why would he sneak off? What could it mean? She'd envisioned them having breakfast together, flirting and whispering about their secret plans. What had he envisioned?

Her reservations about his sincerity reared up with a vengeance. What were his intentions? Why would he vanish at this precise moment? Where Polly was concerned, the Dowager had bluntly announced that Charotte had no authority. If the nasty harridan had arranged for Polly to be sent away, and Win was unable to aid them, how could Charlotte prevent it?

"I don't believe you have to depart," Charlotte said. "I spoke with Lord Dartmouth yesterday and I requested that you stay at Dartmouth with us. He'll consider becoming your guardian, rather than his mother. I expect him to confer with her about it."

"He hasn't conferred with her. There's a carriage in the driveway and my satchel has been loaded. I was ordered to come straight down, but I insisted I had to inform you about this. I couldn't disappear without you being apprised."

"I'm glad. If I'd visited your room and it was empty, I'd have fainted from shock."

Charlotte's mind was frantically whirring. Win was conveniently absent. Had he realized that the Dowager's scheme for Polly was about to be implemented? Had he been keen to be away, so he didn't have to quarrel with Charlotte about it? Or maybe with his mother?

She couldn't imagine what his relationship with his mother was like. He seemed to be strong and determined, but the Dowager was very imposing. If she put her foot down, might he be too weak-kneed to argue with her?

Even as Charlotte pondered the prospect, she refused to entertain it as a possibility. She was sure his being gone had naught to do with Polly. He probably had no idea of what was transpiring.

"I can't dawdle up here," Polly said. "There are people waiting for me. Will you walk me down?"

"Yes, and we'll find the butler and inquire as to whether he can assist us. Perhaps I can meet with the Dowager and persuade her to delay until the Earl returns."

They both wrinkled up their noses, being cognizant that it was wishful thinking. The Dowager wouldn't curtail what she'd orchestrated, and Charlotte couldn't deduce her role in the debacle. As the Dowager had pointed out, Charlotte had no official position in Polly's life. She could declare that Polly wasn't leaving, that Win wanted to be in charge of her, but without him present to verify Charlotte's claim, who would heed her? Without him as her ally as she defied his mother, how could she pull off a small mutiny?

They rushed to the stairs and descended. The front door was open and a carriage was sitting there, a driver in the box and two outriders loafing next to it. An older matron was in the foyer and she smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She was fifty or so, chubby, and dressed all in black like an unhappy Puritan.

"There you are," she said to Polly. "The day's waning and we have a lengthy journey to complete. Shall we go?"

Charlotte stepped forward, so she was partially blocking Polly from the woman's view. "I am Miss Cronenworth," Charlotte said. "I was Polly's teacher at her prior school. Mrs. Pemberton's Academy?"

"Never heard of it." The woman didn't so much as glance at Charlotte. Her gaze was locked on Polly as she said, "Time's a-wasting. Are you ready?"

Charlotte was undeterred. "Are you from the school in Manchester? We haven't received any details about it and Polly is nervous about what's approaching. Could you provide some facts, so she's not worried during the trip?"

The matron finally yanked her focus to Charlotte, and for no reason Charlotte could discern, she was a tad hostile as she said, "We're not bound for Manchester. We're on our way to London."

"London! Why?" Charlotte asked, then she added, "I need you to tarry for a few minutes. I should check with Lord Dartmouth, so I can be certain that he's aware of this situation."

The woman scowled. "Who are you again?"

"Miss Cronenworth!" Charlotte snapped. "Her former teacher. Who are you?"

"I am Miss Ludlow, sister to Mr. Ludlow."

"Yes, and ... ?"

The annoying shrew didn't clarify the comment. She simply smirked and scolded Charlotte. "I can't fathom why you suppose you should be involved in this arrangement. It's been scheduled for weeks and my arrival has been reported to the Dowager. I'm not required to explain myself to you and we're running late. Come Polly! Don't dawdle!"

Polly was torn. She was generally very obedient, but she also had Win's spine of steel. If she didn't want to comply, she wouldn't, yet the Dowager was Polly's guardian and she'd organized this abrupt conclusion. Who could dissuade her?

Charlotte would have liked to firmly state that Polly was staying at Dartmouth until Win returned, but none of the staff would buck the Dowager. The vicious harpy was a haunting specter in their lives. If she'd commanded Miss Ludlow to fetch Polly, they wouldn't help Charlotte to prevent it from occurring.

Her impotence was galling. She should have grabbed Polly's arm to physically keep her in the house, but that would stir a fight with the Dowager, which would be a disaster.

Polly settled the matter. "I should oblige her, Miss Charlotte. I can't bear to cause a quarrel."

"We're not quarreling," Charlotte insisted. "I'm just trying to get some answers for you."

"I'll be fine," Polly told her. "Once I'm there, I'll write to you."

"I might be at Dartmouth for a prolonged period, but in case I'm not, you have my address in London."

"Yes, I know how to contact you at both places."

Miss Ludlow wedged herself between Charlotte and Polly and she herded Polly away. Polly didn't argue about it. To Charlotte's great shame, she didn't react. She'd never felt weaker or more conflicted, except when the very same thing had happened at Fog Bay. She hadn't made the right choices there either.

She followed them out, then she blustered up and said to Polly, "I'll talk to the Earl about you. If he was serious about being in charge of you, he'll bring you back very soon."

Polly smiled wearily. "I will pray that becomes true, but I won't count on it."

She and Miss Ludlow climbed into the carriage and an outrider shut and latched the door. The men jumped aboard and the driver called to the horses. In a blink, they rattled away. Charlotte stood like a marble statue, expecting Polly to lean out and wave, but Miss Ludlow drew the curtain closed, so she couldn't.

Charlotte watched until the vehicle was swallowed up by the trees, then she went inside. A footman was there, watching the departure too, and she asked him, "Were you able to eavesdrop on those servants? Polly is heading off to a new school, but I've never learned much about it, and I fret about her. Might they have discussed it in front of you?"

He frowned. "No offense, Miss, but who claimed she was off to a school?"

"The Dowager."

"I'm positive that's incorrect. From what I heard, she's found Polly a husband. They were babbling about her marriage."

Charlotte's breath hitched in her chest. "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand? She's only twelve!"

"Girls frequently wed when they're twelve."

"Not her!"

Charlotte realized she was bickering with him, which was ridiculous. "I have to notify the Earl, but evidently, he's gone for a ride."

"Yes, he left before the sun was up."

"When will he be back?"

"I can't guess. He's prone to traipsing off."

"How about the Dowager? How would I obtain an audience with her?"

"Probably ask the butler? He should be in the kitchen."

Charlotte raced off, winding down the halls to the rear of the manor. She entered the busy room to find the butler, housekeeper, and several of the maids sitting at the servants' dining table. The housekeeper was assigning chores.

Charlotte barged in, and with her being the Earl's guest, she'd astonished them. They leapt to their feet and the butler inquired, "May I help you, Miss Cronenworth?"

"I hope so."

He was gracious and judicious and he guided her to his office.

"What did you need?" he asked after they were alone.

"Miss Polly was just whisked away by some strangers. A Miss Ludlow from town? Are you acquainted with her?"

"No, sorry, and I wasn't upstairs to greet her. Is there a problem?"

"I can't decide. I assumed Polly was leaving to attend school, but it didn't sound as if she was. Could I confer with the Dowager about Miss Ludlow?"

"The Dowager isn't up yet."

"Could you have someone wake her? This is dreadfully important."

He blanched as if she'd struck him. "She wouldn't view this as an emergency, so I wouldn't dare rouse her. After she's up and prepared to have visitors, I can speak with her about an appointment."

Charlotte blew out a weighty sigh. "All right. Thank you. If you can convince her to meet with me, please have a footman locate me immediately."

"I will."

She flitted out and dashed to the foyer and the worst sense of doom swept over her. Who might listen to her? Who might be concerned?

She thought of Boggs. He knew every secret swirling in the mansion. The footman was still lurking by the door and when she asked where Boggs might be, he directed her to the stables.

It was a chilly morning, so she hurried up to her bedchamber to grab a shawl, then she marched off to accost him.

v

Boggs stood with Miss Cronenworth in the yard outside the stables. When she'd arrived, he'd been out in the pasture, observing as the horses grazed. Most people would deem that sort of activity to be very boring, but it always calmed him.

Recently, he'd sought solace more than usual. The Dartmouth estate was a beautiful spot, and he was lucky to have lived on it, to have worked for the family, but he'd relinquished quite a lot in order to serve them.

He hadn't ever married. He hadn't ever had a place to call his own. He was fifty and slept with the boys who tended the animals. He didn't mind the situation, but after five decades, shouldn't he have managed to accumulate a higher position among the staff?

There were numerous cottages scattered about the property and they were allotted to the upper-level servants. He'd been the Earl's devoted aide since the man had joined the Navy at sixteen and, years earlier, he'd been Agatha's special friend.

He felt he deserved some extra consideration, but he would never put himself forward to request it. And Lord Dartmouth would never think of it by himself. It would never occur to him that Boggs might like to have a home. The Earl could be kind and generous, but he could also be blind as a bat.

"What is it, Miss Cronenworth?" he asked. "I'm surprised to have you search for me and you appear very distraught. What's happened?"

"I was anxious to discuss this with Lord Dartmouth, but he's not here, so you were my second choice. I guess he rose at dawn and went riding?"

"He does that occasionally. He has heavy burdens and he likes to have a quiet interval to reflect on them."

"Well, I needed him quite desperately, so I'm frustrated. A woman named Miss Ludlow just took Polly away. I wanted to stop her, but as at Fog Bay, I have no authority."

He nodded. "I don't see how you could have intervened. Or why you would have. It's good that she's been enrolled in a new school. We should be happy about it."

"Yes, but I'm a tad disturbed again. I pressed the Dowager for details about the facility, and she admitted it was in Manchester, but she wouldn't supply more information."

"She can be difficult," he blandly conceded, declining to denigrate her.

"Miss Ludlow wouldn't provide any information either, and I don't understand why this has to be such a huge mystery."

"If the Dowager scheduled her journey, there's no reason to fret."

He didn't necessarily believe that to be the case, but he wasn't about to gossip with Miss Cronenworth about Agatha. That would be a road to disaster.

"Are you certain she'll be fine?" she asked. "I'm a guest here, but it seems to me that Polly has been treated very badly. The Dowager was annoyingly clear in pointing out that Polly isn't any of my business, but she and I have grown to be very close. It's exasperating that I must be kept in the dark."

He bristled, hating to be dragged into the conversation. "The Dowager is very imperious and she's not very patient. She'd have viewed your questions as an irritating interference she shouldn't have to tolerate."

"Yesterday, the Earl told me he'd like Polly to remain at Dartmouth. He's vanished though, so I couldn't seek his opinion about her being whisked away."

A muscle ticked in Boggs's cheek. Of all the topics he wouldn't discuss, this was the biggest one. Polly would never be permitted to tarry at Dartmouth. Not while Agatha still drew breath.

"Despite what he might have promised," Boggs said, "his mother wouldn't have agreed to it. She doesn't like children."

"Could you help me arrange an audience with the Dowager?"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't."

At his refusal, she was crestfallen. "I thought you liked Polly."

"I did. I do, but as with you, I have no authority over her and my meddling wouldn't sway the Dowager. It would simply make her angry."

"But what if Polly is in trouble? What if we're not receiving the full story about what's transpiring? A footman was in the foyer as Polly was being led out. He eavesdropped on the Ludlow servants and they claimed she was being sent off to be married."

Boggs frowned. "He must have been mistaken."

"The school is supposedly located outside Manchester, but when I demanded some answers from Miss Ludlow, she insisted they were traveling to London."

"That's odd."

"She was very pompous about the fact that she was Mr. Ludlow's sister, as if I should have been awed by the connection. Have you ever heard of them?"

"No, never."

"Everything about this is dodgy and it's left me to assume the worst. At least when the Dowager snatched her away from Fog Bay, I was aware that she was headed to Dartmouth, so I was able to follow her to guarantee that she was being tended properly. Now, I'm not sure of where she will actually be. I can't check."

"I'll talk to the footman," he said. "I'm betting, with a bit of interrogation, he'll remember that it was Manchester after all." He gestured to the manor. "Let's get you to the house. May I walk you?"

"You don't have to."

"I'm not busy and I'm glad to accompany you. It's a beautiful morning and it's not often that I have the chance to stroll with a pretty girl."

She grinned halfheartedly. "Flatterer."

They sauntered off, and it was obvious he hadn't calmed her, but what could he do? For years, he'd blackmailed Agatha to behave appropriately toward Polly, so he'd been dangling on a very thin limb. He'd been complicit in her hiding Polly's existence from the Earl, so he couldn't bluster forward with clean hands.

If he confessed his perfidy to Lord Dartmouth, or if he betrayed Agatha, he'd be fired and kicked out—when he was fifty. He'd advocated as much as he could for Polly. He'd forced Agatha to have her raised well, to have her educated. If Agatha had contracted a marriage, it wasn't exactly a calamity. If she'd found a respectable family, if she'd coughed up a fair dowry, how could he complain about it?

His only aggravation was that they'd have to confer and he tried to never meet with her. It was always hazardous for them to chat. He vividly reminded her of her younger self, when she'd been gorgeous and wild, and he'd tempted her to adultery.

She blamed him for her folly, as if he had seduced her, but he'd been little more than an innocent bystander. She'd practically ordered him to participate in their dalliance, but it was easier for her to make him the culprit, rather than admit her involvement, so he stayed away from her.

They approached the house and a fancy coach was sitting in the drive. It was a grand contraption, the kind that stopped people in their tracks when it went by. It was loaded down with luggage and footmen were hauling in the many trunks and boxes.

He and Miss Cronenworth slowed to watch the spectacle and she said, "My goodness. Who has arrived? If you tell me it's a royal cousin, I won't be surprised."

"It's near enough to royalty." The fussy person being transported in it definitely carried on as if she were a princess. "Apparently, the Earl's fiancée has decided to pay us a visit. I didn't realize we were expecting her."

On his voicing the comment, Miss Cronenworth staggered and almost fell. He leapt to steady her as she frantically asked, "Who is it? I could swear you said it was the Earl's fiancée. Do you mean Lord Dartmouth?"

"Yes, he's engaged and his wedding is in a few weeks. It's to be the most magnificent celebration the kingdom has witnessed in decades."

She gasped with dismay. "Are you certain about this?"

"Ah ... yes? They've been betrothed for the past year. She was the prime catch from last Season's crop of debutantes."

"What's her name?"

"Lady Jasmine Clement."

Miss Cronenworth winced with astonishment. "Her father is a nobleman?"

"Of course. Lord Dartmouth would never have picked a candidate who wasn't highborn."

"Oh my God oh my God oh my God!"

He was startled by her repeating the profane phrase, and as he stared down at her, she was white as a ghost. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You're quite peaked. You're not about to faint on me, are you?"

"I didn't know about her," she mumbled. "He never told me."

Her woeful remark explained much more about her situation than he ever should have learned. He'd seen a romance bubbling up at Fog Bay, and he'd warned her to be careful, but she was a poverty-stricken girl in reduced circumstances who couldn't have evaded the Earl's sly enticement.

The occupant of the vehicle was ready to emerge. The footmen formed a phalanx that looked like an honor-guard positioned to welcome her. The door was whipped open and Lady Jasmine climbed out. She was very beautiful, but in an icy, aloof way he couldn't abide, but then, he wasn't entitled to have an opinion about her.

Tall and willowy, she was the sort of exotic female who seemed to float rather than walk. When she moved, her feet barely touched the ground. Her golden-blond hair gleamed in the bright sun, and even from the far distance where they were standing, they noted the arresting blue of her eyes.

She liked to make a splash wherever she appeared, so she was adorned with expensive jewels and wearing an exquisite gown that was covered with layers of frothy lace. She might have been a fairy queen who had just stepped out of a storybook.

Miss Cronenworth was aghast and she said, "Is that her?"

"Yes, that's her."

They dawdled, observing as Lady Jasmine promenaded by the footmen, then was obsequiously greeted by the butler. She was escorted into the mansion, the footmen following, then the carriage continued on to the barn.

Boggs tarried with Miss Cronenworth and it was the most awkward moment he'd ever endured. He offered up a quick prayer that she wouldn't ask him any questions about Lord Dartmouth's relationship with Lady Jasmine. Clearly, the information would devastate her.

"I had no idea," she finally murmured.

"I can't believe you haven't heard the servants gossiping about the wedding."

"They've been unusually silent." She straightened, struggling to muster some aplomb, but failing miserably. "Would you excuse me? I think I'll go in a rear door."

"It will be all right, Miss Cronenworth," he said as kindly as he was able. "Whatever has distressed you, it will pass."

"I'd better pack my bag and leave as soon as I can. If I don't see you again, promise you'll check on Polly for me. If you can't talk to the Dowager, try to speak to the Earl."

"I will do that." He paused, wondering whether he should bite his tongue, but he felt compelled to add, "I agree that you should leave. It's never pleasant to have Lady Jasmine on the premises and I doubt she'd like to be introduced to you."

He glared at her, sending a visual message, and she received it with no difficulty.

"I'm sure you're correct," she said, "and I wouldn't like to be introduced to her either."

She spun and ran in the other direction.