Chapter 7

CHAPTER

a

7

C harlotte strolled up the path that led from the beach to the cottage. She'd been trudging slowly, constantly peeking over her shoulder in case Lord Dartmouth's skiff appeared out past the headland.

She'd been pining away like a lovestruck girl, and the humiliating realization had forced her to yank away and proceed to the house. Clearly, she'd developed a risky fascination for him, but she wasn't foolish or silly. She didn't behave in imprudent ways.

She had to get a grip on her careening emotions, had to remember herself and her place with regard to him. He was an aristocrat and peer of the realm who possessed one of the oldest titles in the kingdom. She was a commoner and the child of a notorious hussy. It was the truth of their situation and she had to accept it.

She walked by the bench where she'd snuggled with him the prior evening. He'd been passionate and tender, so she'd forgotten who she was and who he was. For a few deranged minutes, she'd begun to believe she was Cinderella and that he could furnish her with the perfect conclusion.

She'd climbed into her bed, convinced they'd crossed a threshold that might render her suitable to be his bride. She fallen asleep fantasizing about how he might eventually pick her rather than a duke's daughter or princess, but she wasn't a character in a fairytale and reality had pummeled her quickly enough.

They were to have met for breakfast at nine, and she'd arrived in the dining room, expecting him to already be there, but instead, the staff had been chatting about how he'd left at dawn in his boat. Apparently, he'd risen to face the day and had traipsed off without pausing to ponder her for a single second.

He'd kissed her several times, and she'd gleefully let him, but it had skewed her view of what was happening between them. She had to stop mooning over him, had to avoid being alone with him. Obviously, she had no ability to control herself around him, and if she didn't rein in her unruly impulses, tragedy would be the result.

She went in the rear door and she pasted on a smile. She'd find Polly and suggest they read a book together by the fire, but as she approached the foyer, a man was speaking to Polly. Charlotte was so attuned to Lord Dartmouth that she could tell it wasn't him.

She couldn't decipher his comment, but she was startled when Polly said, "I'm sorry, but I have to talk to Miss Charlotte. I recognize that you're eager to depart, but I need to be sure this is what I should do."

Charlotte hurried toward them, seeing two men standing there, along with Polly and Boggs. They were dressed in Dartmouth livery, but they weren't part of the small cadre of servants the Earl had brought with him to Fog Bay. The front door was open and a fancy coach was out in the driveway. It had a large crest on the side. A housemaid was loafing near it, as if watching for Polly to join her.

Polly's satchel had been packed and was on the floor next to her. She was wearing her cloak and bonnet and must have been instructed to prepare for a trip. Normally, she was obedient, but she also had the Earl's same stubborn streak and she was refusing to move a muscle.

"What's going on?" Charlotte demanded as she rushed up.

Polly breathed a sigh of relief. "Miss Charlotte! There you are! These men didn't want to wait for you, but I told them I couldn't oblige them until I received your permission."

"Where are they taking you?"

Charlotte glanced at the men, then at Boggs. The men didn't seem inclined to explain, so Boggs said, "The Earl's mother has sent for her and will handle matters from Dartmouth Manor. These fellows are to escort Polly to the estate."

"Oh." Charlotte frowned at him and asked, "Must it be immediately? The Earl isn't here. Shouldn't we seek his opinion first?"

Boggs shrugged. "I can't answer that question. I've found that, when the Dowager Countess issues a command, it's best if we follow it. You're under no duty to heed her, but the rest of us are. I'm not certain who should be making the decisions. Didn't the Earl write to her about Polly's circumstances?"

"Yes, he did," Charlotte said.

"You've been hoping to locate her relatives, and if the Dowager has information about them, shouldn't you allow her to step in?"

"I have no idea," Charlotte murmured.

She wasn't Polly's guardian and she had no legal authority over her. She'd conveyed her to Fog Bay merely as a courtesy, and the Wainwright family was one of the highest in the land. If the Earl's mother had summoned Polly, could Charlotte decline to honor that summons? If the exalted woman was amenable to resolving the quagmire, shouldn't Charlotte welcome her intervention?

Charlotte had been fretting over the fact that she might have to assume custody of Polly, but she didn't have the assets to care for her. Shouldn't she bow out?

She peered over at the men and said, "Have you any notion of what's to occur at Dartmouth?"

"I heard mention of a new school," one of them replied.

Charlotte was somewhat mollified, then the other man added, "The day's waning and we really have to leave. We can't return without Miss Polly. We've been ordered to fetch her, so we don't have a choice about it."

"May I accompany her to Dartmouth?" Charlotte asked him.

"You can't come. The Dowager isn't expecting you and I wouldn't like to upset her."

Charlotte peeked over at Boggs, but he simply said, "I can't advise you. Perhaps we should let them have her, then you can confer with the Earl when he's home. If he feels it would be all right for you to show up at Dartmouth, he could arrange it."

Charlotte might have been an acrobat in a circus, balanced on a tightrope far above the crowd, and with the least little wobble, she'd plunge to the ground. She'd like to insist they delay until the Earl was back, but with how he'd failed to join her for breakfast, it was clear he wasn't particularly attached to them.

Polly's problems weren't his problems. He'd inquired of his mother, and in response, she was willing to deal with the situation.

Was that good or bad? How could it be bad? Charlotte had been granted no authority over Polly's fate. She'd tried to be helpful by transporting her to her kin. Her bond with Polly was meant to be temporary, but their separation was happening too abruptly.

She peeked over at Boggs again, but he stared blankly, his expression supplying no hint of what she should pick, so she said to the assembled group, "I must speak with Polly in private for a minute."

Before the servants could stop her, she led Polly into the front parlor, drawing her into the room and shutting the door to thwart any eavesdropping. To her great consternation, Polly had tears in her eyes.

"I don't want to go with them," she said.

"I realize that, but I'm confused about my role in this. I'm neither your mother nor your guardian. I don't believe I can prevent them from taking you. I have no official position in your life at all."

"Yes, but I've started to think of you as a sister. I hoped we'd eventually travel to London to stay with your family."

"That was never a viable option. I have to begin applying for jobs, and once I'm hired, I'll be living in a dormitory. You couldn't live there with me."

"I could get a job myself!" Polly vehemently declared. "I'm twelve. I don't have to attend school. I could earn my keep."

"You deserve a brighter future than that," Charlotte told her. "You should continue with your studies for as long as someone will pay for them. And if you're connected to the Wainwrights, they'll find you a husband later on. It's the best path for you. I can't have you end up alone and forsaken like me."

"Will I ever see you again?" Polly asked, a mournful tone in her voice.

"Yes, absolutely!" Charlotte clasped hold of her hands and squeezed them. "If I could convince them to let me ride with you, I'd come right now, but the better plan is for me to wait for the Earl to return. I'll check with him about my choices."

They were silent, then Polly said, "I'm scared."

"No, you're not. From the instant I met the Earl, I was positive you're a Wainwright. You have his blood flowing in your veins, so you're not scared of anything."

Polly smiled, but miserably. "You can claim that, but it doesn't make it true."

"The Dowager must have information about your parents and she'll be able to assist you in ways I never could. You have to be excited about it. You have to be glad."

"What if she doesn't like me? What if she's not serious about her offer of aid? What if she kicks me out?"

"Then you'll write to me and I'll race to Dartmouth and fetch you away."

"Swear it! Swear you will."

"I swear." Charlotte pulled her close and hugged her, then she said, "We're going back to the foyer and you'll show those servants your inner mettle. You'll prove you're a Wainwright, so they grasp that their deference is warranted. The Dowager will interrogate them about how you behaved on the journey, and you need them to describe you as mature and polite. You need her to be satisfied over her decision to intervene."

There was a desk in the corner and Charlotte went over and jotted down the address of the Cronenworth town house in London. She would have added the Fog Bay direction, but with Polly departing, her reason for tarrying had vanished. They were both leaving.

She sanded the note and passed it over. Polly assessed it, as if memorizing the words in case she lost the paper, then she tucked it into her reticule. Charlotte opened the door and they emerged to the impatient crowd.

"Polly is ready," Charlotte said, "and she's grateful to have the Dowager intercede on her behalf."

The servants had no comment to that. They spun and tromped out, and she and Polly followed them, with Boggs trailing along behind. Polly was being very brave, but as she approached the carriage, she was trembling a little.

She fell into Charlotte's arms, saying, "I will miss you forever and I will never forget you."

"I won't forget you either. You'll write constantly and tell me how you're faring. Yes?"

"Yes, I will. I promise."

The housemaid introduced herself and announced that she would be Polly's chaperone during the trip to Dartmouth. It eased many of Charlotte's concerns.

The men were in a hurry. They lifted Polly and the maid into the vehicle, then they climbed aboard themselves, so there was no time for an extended farewell. The driver called to the horses, and Polly waved a frantic goodbye as she was whisked down the lane.

Charlotte and Boggs dawdled in the yard, watching the carriage be swallowed up by the trees. Once the dust settled, she said, "That was horrid."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. With the Dowager butting in, you had to let them take her. In my experience, she's not a woman you want to cross."

"It's not that I was crossing her. I just don't know if I should have permitted this. I've never met the Dowager. Can I trust her to do the right thing?"

Boggs didn't reply with an opinion. She'd previously discovered that he was reluctant to speak about the family. He'd share some tidbits, but not others, and he always picked his words carefully, so they couldn't be misconstrued, so he couldn't be accused of gossiping.

He reached in his coat and retrieved a sealed letter. "The Dowager sent a message to the Earl that explains her scheme. After he's read it, we'll have more of a clue about what she intends."

Charlotte raised a brow. "Shall we peek at it? I'm game if you are."

Boggs scoffed. "We don't dare snoop. Heads would roll. Mostly mine."

He stuck it in his coat, then they marched inside. The cottage felt much too empty, and there was the worst sense of doom in the air, as if Charlotte had made a terrible mistake. Had she?

Sick at heart, she trudged up the stairs to pack her clothes. No matter what Lord Dartmouth ultimately told her, she would follow Polly to Dartmouth to inspect her circumstances. She would confer with the Dowager in order to guarantee that the appropriate plans would be implemented.

If the Dowager refused to grant her an audience, or if she insisted Polly wasn't Charlotte's business anymore, Charlotte couldn't imagine what she could do about it. She'd trekked to Fog Bay to locate Polly's family. Wasn't her job completed?

She had no idea, but her visit—and her fleeting, thrilling romance with the Earl—was over, and she would depart in the morning.

v

Win was pacing in his bedchamber. It was very late, the house quiet, the servants asleep. He'd sailed off just after dawn, and he'd left instructions that they shouldn't wait up for him, so he'd tiptoed in without anyone to greet him.

He was cold and exhausted, and he'd thought he would fall into bed, but he had too much on his mind, so rest was impossible. Instead, he was sipping on a whiskey and trying to calm his raging rumination.

He enjoyed his sojourns at Fog Bay, enjoyed pretending that he was a common man, but it grew old quickly. He missed the ostentatious comforts at Dartmouth Manor. When he'd initially traveled to the coast, he'd expected to tarry until his presence was absolutely required in the city for the wedding, but he needed to flee much sooner than that.

After dallying with Charlotte in the garden the prior night, he was extremely conflicted. Each minute that he spent in her delightful company, he was courting disaster. He'd contacted his mother about Polly, and he'd used the delay as an excuse to have Charlotte linger, but it was insane conduct.

He was tricking and abusing her kindly nature, and their continued fraternization was hazardous. He'd send her away, then cut ties, and he wouldn't allow her to provide any forwarding information. He couldn't learn where she would be residing or he was afraid he would eventually begin showing up on her stoop.

Over the past few hours, he'd engaged in excessive contemplation about it, and it had focused him on his path. Hadn't it? So why was he pacing like a caged lion?

He was a large man and the space too small. He couldn't stroll far enough to shed his demons. He'd assumed he had the whole situation resolved, but evidently, he'd been running in circles. He couldn't bear to arrange the ending he'd envisioned.

She was just down the hall and her proximity called to him like a siren's song. He wanted to sneak into her room, but Polly was in there with her. He wondered if he might be able to furtively awaken Charlotte and convince her to step out to talk to him.

He crept over and peered down to her door. To his surprise, it opened and she appeared—as if he'd conjured her just by thinking about her so keenly. They froze, then he held out a hand, urging her to hurry over to him, but she didn't move.

The moon was up and shining in the window behind her, so he could see her expression. She was glaring, not anxious to obey him, and he wasn't stupid. He was supposed to have had breakfast with her, but he'd vanished for the entire day without an explanation. He didn't owe her an explanation, but for reasons he couldn't clarify, he didn't wish to upset her more than he already had.

"Come," he whispered. She dithered, not eager to oblige him, so he repeated more sternly, "Come to me."

Still, she didn't move, so he went to her. She watched him approach with a jaundiced eye, as if he were a stranger who might attack her. When he'd slithered off that morning, he'd realized that she'd be hurt and would view it as a lack of regard, but he hadn't meant it to be a snub. He'd meant it to be a shrewd escape, where he'd avoided becoming more intimately involved with her.

The only workable solution was to separate himself from her, but clearly, he'd misjudged his level of affection. Why should he stay away from her?

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her body to his, so their torsos were crushed together from chins to toes. She was dressed in a summery nightgown that had two tiny straps, so it bared her shoulders and plenty of bosom. The color was a virginal white, with purple violets embroidered along the bodice. Her hair was down and brushed out, so the beautiful strands hung down her back in a curly wave.

She looked like a bride awaiting her groom on their wedding night, and his lust soared to a frighteningly hot temperature. How could they fail to revel in a physical affair? It didn't seem possible.

He dipped down and kissed her. For a brief second, she stiffened and refused to participate, then she relaxed and leapt in with unbridled enthusiasm. She'd been missing him as much as he'd been missing her, and her fervor complicated their liaison. If she didn't like him quite so much, if he didn't like her, they could both walk away unscathed. Unfortunately, their parting wasn't in the cards.

He broke off the kiss, and he leaned over and shut the door, so Polly wouldn't hear them. Then he clasped her hand and led her to his room. She didn't rush to keep up, but she didn't yank away either. She let him guide her to the precise spot she should never be.

What was his ploy? He never welcomed women into his bedroom. In fact, he'd never previously brought a paramour to his private quarters. If he copulated with a female, he climbed into her bed. Not his. That way, he could put his boots on and leave whenever he felt like it. He determined when a tryst would end.

Was he planning to fornicate with her? Would she be amenable? Would he dare? If he was lucky enough to press the issue to its logical conclusion, he wouldn't be sorry, but he was certain she'd suffer regrets that would plague her forever.

He tried to kiss her again, but before things could get interesting, she eased away.

"You're vexed with me," he said. "Why? Is it about breakfast?"

"We're so far beyond your skipping breakfast that it's irrelevant. Where have you been?"

"I intended to join you at nine. I really did."

She tsked with offense. "No, you didn't, so don't lie about it. Besides, it doesn't matter now."

He decided to be unusually frank. "I'm too attached to you, and it's worrying me, so I snuck away like a coward."

"You're not fond of me. I don't believe you and you're being ridiculous."

"You're wrong. My infatuation is concerning me, and I can't figure out how to tamp it down, so I fled the property."

"Why not just act like a rational adult? Why not just reveal the problem, so we could have discussed it? Would that have been so hard?"

"There is no solution for us. I see you and I want you."

She bristled. "I imagine that sort of impassioned declaration works on the women you normally seduce, but it won't work on me. I'm aware of the position I occupy in the great scheme of your life. Your antic this morning bluntly proved it."

"You're much more important to me than you understand."

"Please be silent. Don't compound your idiocy by spewing insincere compliments. I'm too aggravated to listen to them."

She was a tough little virago, and he was humored to have her berating him, but he was irked by it too. No one ever doubted his word. Or it was more accurate to state that they might doubt him, but they'd never mention it to his face. If he claimed to cherish her, she should accept his assertion.

"Are you accusing me of toying with your affections?" he asked.

She sighed dramatically, as if he was being a brat. "It's pointless to debate this topic. Could we talk about a subject other than you and your absurd fixations?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that while you were hiding and loafing today, we had an incident occur that was very disturbing."

"I wasn't loafing," he huffed. "A smuggler's boat was seized. I helped the magistrate deal with it."

"Fine. You were carrying out your duties as a loyal citizen, but at the moment, I don't care about it."

Well, she'd told him, hadn't she?

The room had one chair and he stepped over to it and sat down. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. She grumbled, but didn't jump up and stomp out. She could fume and fuss all she liked, but she couldn't resist him.

Her glare had reappeared and she said, "We're not misbehaving."

"I wouldn't dream of it." In reality, whenever he gazed at her, it was the only issue on his mind.

"We have bigger fish to fry and you have to tell me how to proceed."

"With what? What happened?"

"Your mother sent some men to fetch Polly."

It was the very last news he'd expected. "She what?"

"They demanded Polly go to Dartmouth Manor with them, so your mother can be in charge of her."

"My goodness," he murmured, struggling to grasp his mother's reasoning.

He'd been lazy and in no hurry to receive a reply from his mother about Polly's antecedents because, so long as she didn't respond, he could keep Charlotte with him at Fog Bay. Once Polly's situation was resolved, what justification would he use to have Charlotte tarry? Yet as he'd been out chasing smugglers, the predicament had been resolved without him.

"I allowed them to take her," Charlotte said, "but I'm wishing I hadn't. I didn't think I had the authority to prevent it and it's left a bad taste in my mouth."

"My mother must presume Polly is a Wainwright. Did the servants have a message about it?"

"No, but she penned a letter to you. Boggs has it." She grinned, suddenly looking impish. "I begged him to let me read it, but he's too honest. He wouldn't permit me to break the seal."

"You scamp. You can't be reading my mail."

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't have considered it, but I'm so worried about her. I've never met your mother. Will she treat Polly fairly? The servants thought Polly had been enrolled in another school."

The information flummoxed him. Agatha was horridly conceited and she could be a strict miser too. She would never spend a penny on an underling that didn't have to be spent. Her willingness to intervene had his pulse racing. Perhaps Polly was Holden's daughter after all. If so, Win would gladly raise her. It would ease some of his guilt over his brother's final days.

"Would your mother really send her to school?" Charlotte asked.

"I have no idea. This whole tale is very shocking to me."

"It has to indicate that she was paying Polly's tuition at Mrs. Pemberton's, doesn't it? Might she have been Polly's benefactor? You had wondered if Polly was your brother's child. Maybe she is."

"That would make me happy."

"She may be your niece, so I need to request a favor."

"If it's within my power to grant, you may have it."

"Will you watch over her for me? Will you support her appropriately and arrange a suitable marriage in a few years?"

"I will. You don't have to beseech me about it."

"Thank you, and if you ultimately determine she's not related to you, you must convey her to me in London."

He'd been reluctant to learn Charlotte's future location, but she was prepared for them to remain in contact. Over Polly. He couldn't exactly claim to be upset.

"I'll bring her to you," he said, "if that's how it washes out."

"If you can't or won't assist her, I'll have to assume custody, so keep track of her for me. I'm afraid you'll become distracted and forget about her."

He scoffed at that. "Give me some credit. I wouldn't turn a child out on the road. I like her very much and I'll devise a solution for her."

"Thank you again. Even if she's not your kin, I truly believe she has a very important father. She deserves to be placed in proper circumstances."

"I'll handle it for you," he vowed when he shouldn't have.

He had no business uttering promises about Polly. If she wasn't a Wainwright, he had no duty toward her and shouldn't obligate himself, but he was absurdly eager to please Charlotte. He wanted her to be proud of him, to view him as her champion.

They were quiet for a minute, and she studied him intently, her look poignant and sad, as if she was committing his features to memory.

Eventually, she said, "Polly has left, so I'll be leaving in the morning too."

At the announcement, he straightened as if she'd poked him with a pin. "What was that? I could swear you told me you were leaving."

"Of course I am. I traveled to Fog Bay to deliver Polly to her family. My task appears to be over, so there's no reason for me to delay."

"There's every reason," he fumed.

"Name one."

"How about because I am here? How about because I'm not ready for you to depart?"

She chuckled. "You're so spoiled."

"Yes, I am and I always get my way. You're not going. I forbid it."

She tsked with exasperation. "I'm not a rich aristocrat like you. I have to find a job, which will be very difficult. I can't dawdle and pretend I'm a lady of leisure."

"You don't have to find a job," he said. "You can stay with me."

"As your what?" she inquired.

The question embarrassed him. Clearly, she was hoping he was about to tender a marriage proposal. He would hate to hurt or insult her, but he wasn't about to ask her to be his bride. He couldn't ask her. Not when he was about to wed someone else.

"You could be my mistress," he said, and the instant he voiced the words, he recognized how awful they sounded.

She chuckled again, but miserably. "For a moment there, I thought you were about to propose."

He winced. "I'm sorry, but that wouldn't be possible."

"Yes, but apparently, I'm a romantic at heart, and I can wallow in fantasies as adeptly as the silliest debutante." She snorted quite vehemently. "No. I would never be your mistress and don't raise the subject again. I'm mortified that you have such a low opinion of me."

"I don't have a low opinion. You're in dire straits and we share a potent attraction. I could change your life—if you'd let me."

"Despite what you presume, I'm not so desperate that I'd disgrace myself."

She slid off his lap and stepped to the door, and he suffered an insane burst of panic. She couldn't abandon him!

"Spend the night with me," he requested rather urgently.

"Stop spewing lewd suggestions or our parting will be so much worse."

"We don't have to part!"

"Yes, we do." Her tone was firm and scolding. "I plan to visit your mother at Dartmouth to check on Polly. What's your bet? Will she receive me?"

"I wouldn't try to guess. It will depend on her mood when you arrive."

"I'll visit her anyway, then I'll proceed to London."

"Where will you be in town?" he asked, frantic to be apprised of her location.

She smirked. "I was about to inform you, so you could contact me about Polly, but it's dawned on me that you shouldn't know where I'll be. It's probably best if I never hear from you in the future."

His panic increased. "You're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm being realistic. I have been completely overwhelmed by you, to the point where I've contemplated illicit acts that would destroy me. You've tempted me beyond my limits and I have to remember my place with regard to you. I have to save myself."

The notion of her flitting away was incredibly distressing and a brilliant idea flashed in his mind. Before he could ponder the wisdom of it, he said, "I'll escort you to Dartmouth tomorrow."

"You don't have to escort me."

"How will you get there then? On the public coach? I won't have you traipsing about the countryside by yourself."

"I'm used to traipsing about by myself and I've already been a huge bother to you."

"It's been no bother to assist you," he said, "and my decision to convey you to Dartmouth is entirely selfish. I'm not prepared for our odd friendship to end, so I will delay it for a few more days by traveling with you to my estate."

"Now who's being ridiculous?"

"I'll introduce you to my mother and it will guarantee she'll meet with you."

She fumed and stewed, then said, "All right. You may take me to Dartmouth, but that's it. I'll ensure Polly is fine, then I'll head to London. You and I will be done forever."

"Maybe."

"Forever, Lord Dartmouth! I mean it."

"Would you call me Win?"

"No."

She stomped out, and he loafed on his chair, listening as she marched down the hall, went into her room, and shut the door. She spun the key in the lock and he snickered with amusement. As if a key could keep him out if he truly wanted to enter!

She was trying to leave him, but he wasn't finished with her ,and they wouldn't separate until he figured it was time. He would transport her to Dartmouth, and she assumed she'd have a quick interview with his mother, then continue on to town. But he was a sly dog and Dartmouth was one of the most beautiful manors in the land.

He'd spoil her until she was lulled into a sense of complacency, then he'd suggest again that she be his mistress. He had no doubt, after he wore down her defenses, that she would behave precisely as he intended. He couldn't imagine any other conclusion.