Chapter 14 #2
“Lady Pelham,” Charity’s mama continued, “told everyone who asked that you were under the weather, but with such inflection that we understood it was a flimsy excuse. This is what happens when you spend time with the undesirables, Charity. You should have married the Duke of Northumberland. The Fitzroy stain is spreading across your name.”
“I beg your pardon,” Lark said, jutting in.
Lady Cresswell blinked and then glanced over, her eyes widening as she realised who was standing at Charity’s side.
Her face flushed in embarrassment, with more rising fury fast on its heels.
“Lady Lark, I did not recognise you in those clothes. Then again, you and your mother barely escaped, what with the guard nipping at your heels. I imagine you had little chance to pack before you fled England.”
Lark lifted her chin, hostile. “Your daughter’s friends tarred us with their false accusations,” she replied, trotting out the lines her mother had likely told her.
“She never would have had the chance to marry Lord Percy. He likely realised your daughter is a liar, and that is why he ended the engagement.”
“That is not what happened,” Charity gasped, swinging round.
Lady Cresswell gave her daughter no room to continue. “The Duke of Northumberland is a family friend, and you should remember my daughter is a duchess. You are to refer to her as Your Grace if you must refer to her at all.”
“Mama, that is not necessary,” Charity murmured, though she did not know why she chose to focus on that point.
She didn’t have time to deal with her mother, not now, not when she still had to get Lark to the carriage.
She cast a desperate glance at her father, silently pleading with him to intercede.
He did—but not in the way Charity had hoped.
He stepped around his wife, and latched onto Charity’s arm. “Your behaviour is beyond the pale, Charity. We are taking you home right now, before you do something truly horrid, like ruining yourself with that rake Lord Fitzroy.”
“My brother is not a rake,” Lark growled. “He has never mistreated any woman—”
“He has forced my daughter to associate with his former mistress!” Lord Cresswell countered.
He squeezed Charity’s arm and pulled again.
“The marchioness! Exposed as a lady of ill repute in front of half of Europe’s royals, and with you sitting at her side.
Yes, Charity, we heard about that too. This is all Peregrine Fitzroy’s fault. He is dragging you into the muck.”
“And now even the Queen wants nothing to do with you,” Lady Cresswell spat, her eyes glittering with fiery anger.
“There is no ill will between myself and the Queen,” Charity shot back. “Peregrine is a good man, one respected by the Crown, which you would see if you spent even a minute with him.”
“You want me to spend time with the Fitzroys? After all they’ve done to us?
” Lady Cresswell shifted her attention, pointing the burning orbs that were her eyes in Lark’s direction.
“Your mother kidnapped my daughter. Did you know that? Did you help her with that plan? I bet you thought you’d win the Duke’s hand with Charity out of the way.
Now your brother is trying to ruin her again. ”
Charity sucked in a breath, aghast at her mother’s accusations. Lark was innocent, as innocent as Charity and Peregrine had been. Trapped all together in the maelstrom that was the feud between their mothers.
Charity caught Lark’s eye and shook her head feverishly, making it clear she did not agree with her mother’s words. “Lark was not involved at all. Nor Perry,” she told her parents.
Lark scrunched her brow, concentrating on Charity’s face as though she were trying to read the truth written in her soul. Did Charity truly care about her brother? Was Charity really taking a stand against her own family?
“I love him,” Charity whispered, her words meant only for Lark. If her parents heard her confession, so be it.
Lark did not answer, but something in her gaze cooled, as though weighing which battle mattered more. In that instant, defending her brother outweighed sparring with Charity. She straightened, caught Lord Cresswell’s hand, and pried it from Charity’s arm with deliberate force.
Lord Cresswell shrank back. Lady Cresswell, however, was not to be denied her objective.
“There is something rotten in your family, Lark Fitzroy. I knew it the moment I first laid eyes on your mother.”
“I am sure that is what you tell yourself, Lady Cresswell, but let us not forget. It was you who lured my mother’s beau into that room, you who allowed him to take liberties, and you who threatened to blacken his name if he did not offer for your hand.”
“I saved him from marrying a mad woman!” Lady Cresswell said. “Look at you and your brother. The bad blood has carried through to the next generation.”
“At least my mother did her duty” Lark’s voice was so cold that it burned Charity’s ears. “Thanks to your actions, Lord Cresswell was left with a sad excuse for a wife, one unable to bear him a single heir.”
Charity searched for some way out of this cycle of accusations, some way to get her mother to separate her hatred for Marian Fitzroy from tossing blame on Perry and Lark.
Lark, it seemed, had a simpler solution in mind. She drew herself up and announced, “I do not have to stand here while you sling mud upon my family name. In the future, please keep your distance, Lord and Lady Cresswell.”
With that, Lark slipped her arm through Charity’s, spun Charity around, and all but dragged her away.
“This is not an overture of friendship,” Lark muttered. “But yes, I agree now that we should speak openly, without this interference colouring our opinions.”
Charity bucked up and took control, angling their steps toward the line of waiting carriages. She spied Hodges sitting atop one not too far ahead. She coughed then, loud enough to draw his attention, and watched as he rapped on the roof of the carriage.
“Over here,” Charity said, forcing her slippered feet to move even quicker along the dusty path. “That carriage there. They are waiting.”
“They? Do you mean Perry?” Lark asked.
Thorne swung the door open and leapt to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Lark and bundled her forward, lifting her small form into the carriage with ease.
“Your brother wishes you to be safe,” he said loud enough for Charity to hear.
Charity’s last glimpse inside showed Selina and Lark sitting beside one another on the cushioned bench. Selina was rubbing Lark’s arm, attempting to reassure her all was well.
Lark’s mouth hung open, too shocked by the situation to think to shout for help. But when her gaze landed on Charity’s face, her eyes narrowed into slits, promising retribution for this betrayal.