Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
BENNET HALL, SURREY - OCTOBER 23, 1816
CHARLOTTE
By supper, my desire for food outweighed my better judgment. I dressed with more care than usual, directing Imogen to tug my stays tighter than they had been in weeks—a vain, ineffectual effort.
I stepped into the hall and began puttering down the long rug toward the landing. Only to meet Lady Rycliffe right there.
I had thought her lovely before. And she was. But marriage, it seemed, agreed with her—even marriage to a solicitor. She was more radiant than the sun, beaming with her golden hair and skin. Her eyes were brighter, more emerald than the olive I remembered. And as usual, the mauve silk caressed her form like a lover. Years later and I still wanted to be her.
Instead of lovely, I was round, puffy, achy, and splotchy. She offered a delicate, dainty curtsy, while I struggled to manage an acceptable one on swollen ankles. Her greeting was polite, not that I expected anything less from her. My only reprieve was that she didn’t comment on my new, more rotund form.
We made the usual remarks on the weather, her trip, my headache as we traversed the stairs together. When we approached the drawing room, I caught two masculine murmurs. Lee and the one belonging to the solicitor. I gestured for her to precede me, and after a deep breath for courage, I slipped in behind her.
Feeling very much like I had all those years ago, I slinked along the wall, holding myself there while I observed.
I would not have chosen a solicitor for myself, but I could see the appeal. He was shorter than Lee. His light brown hair was dusted with gray at the temples, lending him a distinguished appearance. But it was his cheekbones and eyes that set him apart. I’d never considered a man’s cheeks before, but I did now. Honed like a knife’s edge, they drew the gaze to his eyes. Those eyes were a shade of blue so bright I didn’t have a name for it—cobalt, sky, royal were all lacking. A fresh scar cut through one brow, which left him seeming dangerous rather than studious. And he wore the utterly besotted expression that was so common among the men in Lady Rycliffe’s orbit. It was naked adoration with just a hint of disbelief that she deigned to grace him with her presence.
A massive open palm with a singular peppermint slid into view. I took it, popped it in my mouth, and relished the answering bite. After turning, I found Lee close enough that I had to tip my head back a bit to meet his gaze. His eyes were lovely too, a crystal navy shade with concern clear in the tilt.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, then dropped a kiss to my temple. “Cee, I believe you know Charlotte? Will, this is my wife. Charlotte, this is William Hart, my solicitor.”
Cee? Cee? Any comfort I had drawn from the kiss and the peppermint left in a rush along with all the air in the room.
“I wasn’t aware you knew each other.” My voice was pathetically shrill and desperate.
“Oh, we’ve known each other for ages,” Celine replied from her husband’s arms with a languid smile. “You know, there was a time when I was almost Lady Champaign.”
My answering hum of acknowledgment was thready and high, almost a whimper. I cleared my throat, desperately hoping for stability. “I was not aware of that. What happened?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Lee said. Oh, that was worse than knowing. I had managed to concoct at least three scenarios in the seconds since I learned of the arrangement. Without intelligence, I would be left to create thousands. Hundreds of thousands.
“Oh, come now! It is certainly a tale worth telling. Besides, it paints you in a most gallant light,” she teased, then turned to me. “Your husband had the misfortune of courting me in my misspent youth. Before I wed Lord Rycliffe, I was adored by the ton . And bored out of my mind. Your poor husband was the least objectionable option while I was trying to coerce Gabriel into giving up his rakish ways.”
“What evidence do you have that I had serious designs on you?” Lee asked with a mischievous smile.
“You did offer for me.”
“Well, I could not leave you to Rycliffe without at least providing you an alternative. I was fairly certain he would make a terrible husband.”
Mr. Hart’s burst of laughter startled the room. When all eyes found him, he clarified, “I’ve never agreed with a statement more.” Lady Rycliffe—Mrs. Hart—Celine—if Lee could use her Christian name so could I—gave his shoulder a playful slap with her fingertips.
I loathed this feeling, where everyone referenced events I had not been present for. Now I was a child while the adults spoke of adult things around me. These people shared a pleasant history. I shared a moderately acrimonious one with only Celine.
Lee’s hand settled on my lower back, which helped a little, soothing the ache. He took pity on me as well and whispered into my ear, “Will and Lord Rycliffe had a less than pleasant history before his passing.” It seemed likely to be the only explanation I would receive so I took it gratefully.
Jack chose that moment to announce supper. The other newlyweds filed out, but Lee found my hand and kept me back.
He tucked a curl behind my ear. “How are you feeling?”
“I am well. I will not join you in the observatory though.” He nodded and wrapped one arm around my shoulders to pull me into his embrace. For a moment, I simply breathed in his bright scent.
“Come now, you must be hungry.” He broke away and guided me into the dining room. If our guests noted our absence, they said nothing.
Our meal began with less circular talk, and instead the usual polite discussions occupied us. What followed was a lively recitation of our guests’ rather unconventional courtship. Celine was an incredible storyteller, jesting in the right places, offering significant, suspenseful glances in others. And her entirely besotted husband added details at precisely the right moment. It was a dance, one with steps only they knew.
“And how did you two meet?” she finally asked. There it was, the moment I had been dreading. Any hope I’d had that the subject had been covered while I was resting was well and truly shot.
Then Mr. Hart did the strangest thing. With a significant glance at his wife, he interjected. “You know this one, Cee. You told me yourself. You invited Lady James to a tour of Vauxhall Gardens. A widow’s gathering, if you will. There, you happened upon your dear friend Lord Champaign.”
With an enthusiastic breath, she took up the torch. “Oh, that’s right. How silly of me. I remember—I caught the two of you alone on one of the dark walks! Not that I could blame either of you. Clearly it was true love.”
My husband nodded in agreement while I stared at the three of them in astonishment. Celine widened her eyes significantly.
“It’s true. I could not stay away from her. Not when she was so lovely and vivacious,” Lee added.
Realization crashed over me in a wave, tears flooding my eyes and pooling on the lower lashes.
She was going to help me.
“Yes, I was just telling Davina how in love you two were when you met all those months ago. And how it’s absolutely no surprise to anyone who saw you that you will be blessed with a child so quickly. The passion…” she sighed the last word for dramatic effect.
I swallowed thickly before joining in. “Yes, it was love at first sight.”
“Precisely. Which is what I shall be reporting to anyone who has a misunderstanding of the facts.”
A single tear escaped, and I brushed it away furiously. The rumors might remain, but if Celine told my fictitious story with a fraction of the enthusiasm she gave her real story… The entire ton would know about our famous love match. There were still holes. But it might sow enough doubt…
“Thank you,” I replied with more significance than I had ever given those two words.
“But of course. I do love the best gossip. I know just the people who would adore such a story.”
We returned to less fraught topics. And eventually Lee took our guests to the observatory, and I, desperate to be out of shoes and stays, retired for the evening.
Lee
The three of us trailed Cass down to the observatory as she chirped every few steps.
“You really rescued a cat?” Cee asked, incredulity clear in her tone. “I thought that to be mere rumor.”
“Why would anyone lie about such a thing?”
“Well, I do not know. It was just more evidence of how you were too good to court me, and I would have ruined you if we’d wed.” That was patently ridiculous in so many ways I couldn’t possibly enumerate them.
I settled on, “I am not that good.”
“You are. Far too good, really. But you are not foolish about it, and so I approve.”
“Oh, because I knew you were a self-satisfied hellion when I courted you I meet with approval? Wonderful.”
Will trapped his chuckle behind pressed lips as he slipped passed me and into the observatory. He was appropriately awestruck once he stepped inside, his gaze wide-eyed at the telescope. Celine, on the other hand, made herself comfortable on the edge of the desk, flipping through books with disinterest.
I gave Will a tour while Cee busied herself, and finally we reached her. She was elbow deep into some of Charlotte’s paintings. “I had no idea your wife was so talented. I thought her only skills lay in gossip and petty squabbles.”
“Love…” Will’s warning tone cut through the setback I was preparing to deliver.
“Apologies. I forgot you have a soft spot for petty women who make unfortunate romantic choices.” She gestured to herself deprecatingly. “I assume this marital arrangement was another charitable endeavor?”
“Have care how you speak of my wife,” I snapped.
“You’ve actually become fond of her? I apologize then. I believe you should be evaluated by a physician. But I am sorry.”
The only sound I was capable of was the growl that escaped. Cee’s response was a raised brow—not nearly as fetching as an eye roll.
“Parker is the father I presume? He was a favorite of hers.” The venom she injected in the two syllables of the man’s name was truly something impressive.
I said nothing, unwilling to speak at the moment.
“He killed Gabriel,” she added, setting down the paintings with a grace that belied the severity of her words.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, he was responsible. Gabriel was involved in...”
“A great many illegal activities,” I filled in.
“Yes,” she snapped. “One of them was fixing races. Parker was one of the unlucky beneficiaries of his efforts. He called Gabriel out the morning he was killed. When Parker failed to arrive, Gabriel returned home, only to be stabbed on our front steps.”
A slow blink was the only reaction I could manage. I knew he had been killed. But on their steps… Stabbed… Poor Celine. Even now her voice was thick when she relayed the story.
Will chimed in, relieving his wife of the burden of the rest of the story. “His brother has since confessed to the actual stabbing. But no one can locate Parker.”
“And you think she…”
“If she doesn’t know his whereabouts, she may have a good idea,” Celine insisted.
“She doesn’t. Cee… Charlotte has not had a visitor since she arrived.”
“You’re certain?” Will asked.
“Yes.”
Cee sighed and picked up a sextant before returning it to the desk with a perfunctory pat. When she finally spoke, it was in a flat tone that brokered no argument. “It’s my condition. I will spin whatever lie you wish. By the time I’m through, every single member of the ton will be convinced beyond a doubt that you two are more in love than anyone has ever been. That you’ve known each other since birth. That I caught the two of you fornicating in the rose bushes for all I care. But I want her cooperation.”
“I won’t have her put in danger.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Then I’m afraid I saw your introduction at the masquerade. And she is scandalously far along for the length of your marriage. What is it, three? Four months?”
“Cee, please,” Will begged.
“Charlotte has been a spiteful shrew for years. Do you even know all that she’s done to poor Kate?”
“Kate is a viscountess and happily married. Whatever it was cannot be so bad,” Will answered.
She ground her teeth, arms crossed over each other. I was certain it was the least elegant expression she had ever made. The wrinkling frown suited her poorly.
I had a card to play in negotiations. “You owe me. I could have ruined you with what I saw on that veranda.”
“Gabriel wed me days later. I would hardly have been ruined.”
Will’s hand found the bridge of his nose, and he pinched away at a burgeoning headache, no doubt.
Cass, apparently determined to join the discussion, trotted over with a chirp and wrapped herself around Celine’s legs. With a performative sigh, Cee reached down to give the cat a scratch. Only to be met with teeth and claws.
She straightened in a flurry of French curses, inspecting her hand. Will crowded her.
Eventually, I was able to glean that there were only one or two superficial scratches. “Why did you save that beast?”
“What can I say?” I asked, leaning a hip against the desk and crossing my arms. “I have a soft spot for rescuing shrewish women in unfortunate situations. Are you going to help me?”
“Are you going to ask her to help me find Wesley Parker?”
I considered it. Charlotte and I did not speak of him. In truth, I had no real notion of her feelings on the man at present. Would it hurt her to ask? Surely she was unaware of his dealings.
“I will ask . But not while she’s still with child. I won’t place that burden on her. Nor for a few months after while she’s healing.”
“One month after the birth.”
“Love, be reasonable,” Will pleaded.
“Three. And only if she agrees,” I replied.
“Two,” she shot back.
“Three. Or you’re on your own with Parker.”
“She will be ruined,” she argued.
“And Wesley Parker will still be out there, swanning around the streets of London, free.”
“Fine,” she grit out. “Three months. And she comes to town to assist.”
“If she agrees. And nothing dangerous.”
“Yes, yes. I’m certain she would rather face ruination than poke around her lover’s haunts.”
She stuck her hand out, waiting for me to shake it. Will merely eyed the entire process warily. Agreement completed, she straightened.
“I’ll leave the two of you to your stars.” Cee pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek, then strode from the observatory to make her way toward the house.
He turned to me with a sheepish expression. “She tends to be a little… intense, regarding the subject of Gabriel’s murder.”
“You do not say.”