Chapter 14
“All I insist on, and nothing else, is that you should show the whole world that you are not afraid. Be silent, if you choose; but when it is necessary, speak—and speak in such a way that people will remember it.”
—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Lady Lark with the Grand Duchess. Was this a simple conversation, or a meeting of the minds between two women bent on making trouble? Charity couldn’t be certain.
It was strange to think that only last year, she and Lark had once been acquaintances—two young women launched into society together, sharing the same ballrooms, the same stilted conversations with prospective suitors.
A year had changed Lark almost beyond recognition.
It was not merely a new hairstyle or fondness for Russian gowns.
She carried herself differently now, taller, steadier, her expressions carefully schooled.
The girl who had quaked before her presentation at court had been replaced by a young woman who had learned to mask her feelings.
When Lark noticed Charity approaching, she lifted her chin, feigning indifference. For all her hardening behaviour, Lark still lacked her mother’s unflinching cruelty. The resemblance was there—but incomplete, as if the role were still a costume Lark was learning to wear.
There was still a chance to pull her away before her mother’s influence consumed her entirely. And that task was falling to Charity.
Charity’s part in the plan was to draw Lark away from the crowd and her mama. She needed to edge the young woman toward Peregrine’s unmarked black carriage, which held Thorne and Selina inside. When Lark was close enough, they would seize her and spirit her to the Fitzroy estate.
Ironic. It was a plan not too dissimilar to Lady Fitzroy’s, when she had her butler kidnap Charity.
Charity had been taken to another Fitzroy property and held for days.
The memory of how she felt that night—the thought that she would be a part of taking another woman and holding her against her will—made her pulse trip unevenly.
She found herself smoothing her glove over her wrist, willing the tightness around her chest to ease. We are not doing this for revenge or to ruin Lark, she reminded herself. This is about protecting her and stopping Marian.
The princess must have noticed her nervousness, for she drew up short. “Shall we wait a moment and see if Lady Lark moves on? I would not force you into an awkward conversation with Lord Fitzroy’s sister, if that is what troubles you.”
“You are kind, Your Highness. In fact, I am uneasy because I promised Perry that I would speak with her.” Charity cleared her suddenly dry throat. “It would be… better if I could speak with her alone, perhaps.”
“Of course. Leave it to me; it is the least I can do,” the princess replied. She tugged Charity back into step and raised her voice, calling out to her fellow royal. “Catherine! There you are!”
The Grand Duchess swung around, at first searching to see who dared call her by her first name. When she saw it was the princess, Catherine practically cooed in delight. She held out her hands to welcome Princess Charlotte, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek.
“My dear, I have been looking everywhere for you!” The Grand Duchess held both of the princess’s hands in hers, casting a look around. “Nicholas is keen to speak with you, and I promised I would bring you over to him as soon as our paths crossed.”
The princess glanced over at Charity, fluttering her lashes. “Would you mind terribly if I left you here? You may keep Lady Lark company so I don’t feel so guilty for letting the Grand Duchess steal me away. I believe you two are acquainted, are you not?”
Lark opened her mouth, and then thought better of whatever she had to say.
“Good! I am sure you two were fast friends when you debuted together last season,” the princess exclaimed, her doe eyes daring Lark to deny it. “You must be looking forward to a chance to renew your friendship, are you not?”
“Of course we are,” Charity agreed. She bobbed a curtsy and from the corner of her eye, she saw Lark doing the same.
Princess Charlotte’s voice was too bright.
The Grand Duchess’s eyes narrowed briefly, sensing some hidden scheme.
But she had no reason to suspect more than a catty prank afoot between members of the ton.
Finally, Catherine smoothed her smile back into place and linked her arm through the princess’s.
The royal pair swept off, leaving Charity and Lark alone. Not wishing to talk to Charity, Lark immediately began to make excuses to leave, but Charity held out a hand to stop her.
Charity had thought long and hard about how to best begin. Despite the feud between their families, they had not always viewed one another as enemies.
“Lady Lark… I was just thinking about last year. It seems like an age since we attended our first events together, so much has happened.” Charity took a breath.
“We used to speak more kindly of one another, once. Before our families intervened, and everything grew so tangled. I think back, and I wish things had been different.”
“A year can change a great deal, Your Grace,” Lark replied, making the honorary sound like an insult.
“But I think my memories of last year differ from yours. Curiously, though—I do not recall you being particularly eager for my company then. Forgive me if I question what makes my company appealing now. Is it the absence of your other friend? Or is it simply your interest in my brother?”
Charity felt the sting of her words, but she vowed not to be easily defeated.
“I do not blame you for wondering. It is true that I miss Grace; being her friend was easy to do, because she looked for so little from me. I was free to follow my plans for the season, and in my ambitions, I overlooked forming other friendships. Now, I would like the chance to get to know you better. To speak openly without… interference.”
Lark whipped around, her cheeks bright pink with fury. “Interference? You mean my mother? Or yours?”
It was a fair enough question, for both mothers had done their part to encourage the family feud to continue. Lark’s balled fists suggested she expected Charity to deny Lady Cresswell’s part. Charity had no intention of doing so.
“Both of them,” she admitted with candor. “I have no wish to be your enemy. I do not expect you to believe me, but I am not here to dredge up the past.”
“It must be nice to have the past so neatly buried, when I am finding it is rather hard to forget it,” Lark fired back. “You and your friends are the reason my mother had to flee London. The lies you told, those unfounded accusations, they nearly ruined us!”
A nearby gasp reminded the women they had an audience.
“Please, Lark, I would like to explain everything. The middle of Rotten Row is not the right place to talk, though. Will you walk with me?” Charity offered her arm, hardly daring to breathe.
Lark’s hands were still balled. Charity knew then that she could beg the young woman until the sun went down, and this approach would bear no fruit. Peregrine’s sister was so furious, she would not be willing to listen or cooperate.
She might still care about her brother, though. “Perry asked me to speak with you.”
“Perry?” The name slipped out before Lark could stop herself, sharper than she intended. And then she cloaked her expression. “Well then, say what you must. But do not expect me to pretend you’re here for my sake.”
“We’re attracting notice, and I would not speak about personal matters with an audience. Please, won’t you come?” Charity held out her arm.
Lark looked around, her shoulders slumping. “Fine.” She motioned for Charity to lead the way. “You are right; we should not give the ton more to talk about.”
They had scarcely cleared the tight knots of promenaders when a sharp, furious voice rang out behind them.
“Charity! There you are! Do not dare walk away from me.”
Charity stiffened. Lady Cresswell was bearing down upon them, skirts whipping about her ankles. Lord Cresswell trailed a pace behind. Her father’s mouth was set in a grim line, and he looked as though he had long since abandoned any hope of restraining his furious wife.
Surprised, Charity stumbled. She threw a desperate glance at Lark, hoping that Peregrine’s sister would not take this opportunity to make an escape. But fortunately, Lark’s animosity worked in Charity’s favour.
A smile tugged at Lark’s mouth. She was anticipating watching Charity being humiliated by her parents. That cut deep, and for an instant, shame pricked at Charity’s eyes, hot and unbidden. Peregrine’s sister clearly relished watching her stumble.
But so long as Lark stayed put, Charity would endure. She drew a slow breath, composing her features, and braced herself for her mother’s onslaught.
“You stupid, stupid girl,” her mother spat as she came to a halt in front of the pair. Lady Cresswell was so fixated on Charity, that she did not seem to even notice that Lark was there. “What did you do to anger the Queen?”
Since she had been expecting more lamentations about associating with the Fitzroy family, Charity was knocked off course by her mother’s question. Had her mother been told what happened at Frogmore? She decided her best defence was to plead ignorance.
“I have no idea what you mean, Mama. I was just with the Princess of Wales.”
Lady Cresswell lifted her right hand and pointed it in her daughter’s face. “I had it on good authority that you were to be at the Opera last night, in the royal box. Instead, Lady Pelham was in your seat.”
Charity’s stomach soured at the mention of the woman dead set on being her nemesis. Of course the Queen would invite her in Charity’s place, showing her diamond her displeasure in less direct ways.