Chapter 18
As she entered the already crowded drawing room, she sensed at once that something was amiss. Guests clustered together in low conversations, their whispers faltering whenever she drew near.
Suddenly self-conscious, she approached Miss Underwood.
‘What has happened?’ she asked quietly.
‘Lord Stanley and Mr Wilberforce were stopped by a highwayman this afternoon, who took a shot at Lord Stanley.’
Charlotte gasped. ‘Is he—?’
‘He’s fine. Disarmed the man himself and dragged him clean off the horse. But the rogue escaped into the woods before he could be caught.’
Charlotte stared at her in horror. ‘He pursued him? Alone? What if there had been more of them?’
‘Mrs Wilberforce is furious. She has refused to come downstairs for dinner.’
Charlotte could hardly blame her. How reckless of him to give chase. The incident bore all the marks of another attempt by the Odd Fellows. But how could she warn him without giving herself away?
‘And Mr Wilberforce?’ she asked. ‘Is he unharmed?’
Miss Underwood grimaced faintly. ‘Perfectly unharmed, though badly shaken. He will not be joining us tonight either.’
At that moment, a hush fell across the room. Lord Stanley entered looking entirely uninjured, composed as though nothing at all had occurred. When his gaze settled upon Charlotte, she was startled to see him walk directly towards her.
‘Miss Lucas,’ he said smoothly. ‘My sister is indisposed this evening. May I escort you to the dining room?’
Without pausing to think, Charlotte accepted his offered arm.
It was customary enough for a hostess, when absent, to elevate a lower-ranking guest to the place of honour.
Yet she could not help her surprise that he had chosen her over Miss Fraser or Miss Pearson, both of whom would undoubtedly have accepted with enthusiasm.
Perhaps he merely wished to avoid showing favour to either lady.
And yet, as murmurs rose behind them like disturbed bees, Charlotte felt her ears burn with embarrassment.
He led her to the table.
To her discomposure, she found herself seated directly opposite him.
Their eyes met far too often across the candlelit table, lending the arrangement an intimacy she found unnerving.
She tried very hard not to notice it.
Instead, she concentrated fiercely upon her meal and attempted conversation with the gentlemen seated beside her—Lord Boulton and Lord Bainbridge—but discovered neither required her participation in the slightest.
‘It grows increasingly impossible to secure suitable workers for the warehouses,’ Mr Payne complained, his rounded figure straining as he turned further down the table.
‘Well, you ought to invest in plantations in the Caribbean,’ Lord Boulton replied with breezy certainty.
‘One never hears complaints from there. The taskmasters ensure the work is completed.’ He carved into his veal with visible irritation, his shockingly yellow hair falling across his eyes as he shook his head.
‘Frankly, the worst thing Parliament ever produced was the Slave Trade Act. They have shackled English enterprise. No wonder trade flourishes elsewhere in Europe.’
‘I confess I find slavery abroad a deeply ugly business,’ the Captain remarked. ‘What do you say, Stanley?’
Lord Stanley swirled his glass and took a measured sip.
‘I think slavery is, regrettably, a necessary evil. Unpleasant, certainly—but I do not see how the world presently functions without it. It cannot be helped.’
‘Precisely,’ Lord Boulton declared triumphantly. ‘Naturally it is undesirable, but release the slaves and the entire economy would collapse with them. Famine, shortages—chaos everywhere.’
Mr Payne gave a short scoff. ‘And yet I understood you were financing Mr Wilberforce’s campaign. What is that, if not support for the cause?’
‘Familial loyalty,’ Lord Stanley replied evenly.
Charlotte felt a plunge of disappointment at his response. Unlike his father—the late Baron—Lord Stanley appeared to possess little genuine conviction on the matter at all.
‘Whatever the reason, it is a noble cause,’ Sir Oswald declared with bumbling enthusiasm, his bald head glistening beneath the chandelier. ‘Hear, hear!’
When the ladies at last withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars, Charlotte’s thoughts returned immediately to the troubling incident with the highway robbery.
She felt certain it had been another attack orchestrated by the Odd Fellows, cleverly disguised as common banditry so as to attract no suspicion. Clever, really—but terrifying.
The thought chilled her.
More troubling still was Lord Stanley’s reckless pursuit of the man. Why did he seem almost determined to place himself in danger?
Several times she considered warning him—if not of Wolverton directly, then at least cautioning him against taking such risks. Yet every possible conversation collapsed almost immediately in her mind. To speak freely risked exposing knowledge she had no reasonable way of possessing.
At last, her guilt outweighed her caution.
It was time to tell him.
She had to warn him properly about the danger he was in, even if it meant revealing her true identity. The thought made her stomach tighten with dread. Yet she could not live with the possibility that he might be murdered while she lacked the courage to tell the truth.
When the gentlemen at last rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Charlotte approached Lord Stanley cautiously.
‘My lord, I wish to speak with you on a private matter.’
Lord Stanley glanced at her with faint condescension before reluctantly abandoning Miss Pearson.
‘Would it be possible to meet in the study after dinner?’ she murmured, careful to keep her voice low enough that the surrounding guests could not overhear.
With cold, calculating eyes, he assessed her face with unnerving precision, as though weighing every possible motive behind the request.
Then his expression hardened.
‘Miss Lucas,’ he said quietly, ‘merely because I have tolerated—and occasionally laughed at—a few of your antics does not entitle you to liberties of this nature.’
Charlotte felt herself go still.
‘I am not so na?ve as to be lured into a compromising situation by you—or anyone. I will not meet you privately.’ His voice remained low, though no less cutting for it.
‘Whatever you have to say may be said here, in front of everyone. If you have further grievances, you may address them to Mrs Wilberforce. I cannot reasonably be expected to involve myself in every domestic inconvenience within this house.’
The words stung like icy water. Charlotte recoiled at once, unable to summon a reply.
For the remainder of the evening she could neither properly speak nor bring herself to meet his gaze. How could he be so cold, so unyielding, when all she had done was try to warn him? Her request had been awkward, certainly, but born entirely from fear for his safety.
By the end of the evening, Charlotte was as much incensed as she was apprehensive.
Very well, then.
Perhaps she ought to concern herself with preserving her own life rather than his.
Wolverton’s gaze found her repeatedly throughout the evening—lingering, suggestive, and wholly unwelcome.
Even across the room, it unsettled her. She took care to remain as far from him as possible in the intimate confines of the drawing room and felt immense relief when, at last, the gentlemen withdrew to the card room.
She noticed, however, the Captain remained behind with the ladies.
‘Are card games not to your taste, Captain?’ she asked as he took a seat near the fireplace beside her.
He smiled warmly. ‘Ah, no, that sport is ill-suited to a man whose pockets are currently quite empty.’ He laughed lightly at himself. ‘Shooting, however—that is a sport I understand perfectly well.’
‘At a house party, surely they do not play such very high stakes?’
‘Ordinarily, no. But Lord Stanley is a veritable gambler.’ The Captain shook his head with faint disbelief.
‘Why, the other day at the gentlemen’s club he lost a fortune.
I believe he even wagered—and lost—his prized stallion to Wolverton.
I was there and tried to curb his streak, but he would not listen to reason. ’
Charlotte stared at him. ‘I did not imagine him capable of behaving so irresponsibly.’
She had witnessed such madness before. Anne’s father had ruined himself entirely at the gaming tables.
The Captain gave a slight shrug. ‘When sober, I believe him to be one of the most level-headed men alive, but after several drinks, I’m afraid the inhibition simply disappears.’
Charlotte frowned. ‘I have not noticed him drinking to excess...’
Had she missed it? He seemed perfectly lucid since she moved into the mansion. But then she had not known him for long.
‘And what of Lord Wolverton?’ she asked carefully. ‘I noticed you were not impressed by his humour earlier.’
The Captain raised a brow, faintly surprised by her observation.
A curious smile touched his mouth. ‘I cannot say I am keen on the fellow. He and Lord Stanley share a fondness for wagers and reckless amusements. Wolverton, I suspect, would cheerfully gamble the coat from a man’s back if given the opportunity.’
Then his expression darkened. ‘My father gambled. I detest it.’
Nothing more needed to be said.
Charlotte recognised the pain behind the words at once.
What troubled her most was not the Captain’s confession, but the revelation concerning Lord Stanley himself. Gambling and drink were hardly uncommon vices amongst the ton, yet she found herself irrationally disappointed all the same.
As the evening drew to a close and most of the ladies retired upstairs, Charlotte finally rose as well and quietly took her leave of the remaining spinsters.
Making her way towards the grand staircase, she heard a raging row emanating from the study.
Unable to resist, she slowed her steps and moved quietly closer. The study door stood slightly ajar, affording her a clear view of Mr and Mrs Wilberforce with Lord Stanley.
Mr Wilberforce’s voice rang out first. ‘What do you mean you are cutting me off?’ he demanded furiously.
‘You heard me.’ Lord Stanley spoke in measured tones, his expression wholly unimpressed. ‘After today’s theatrics, it has become far too dangerous for me to continue. I must also consider the welfare of my sister and nephew.’
Mr Wilberforce slammed both fists upon the desk. ‘You cannot do this, Stanley! I rely on you. My work is infinitely more important than your gaming and wagers. You will squander fortunes on foolish bets, yet refuse to support something of actual consequence!’
Lord Stanley rose slowly to his feet. ‘I have no interest in your parliamentary crusades,’ he said evenly. ‘You must find another patron.’
‘But I have no one else!’ Wilberforce burst out. ‘With Huntley and Conant gone, I shall be ruined—forced to abandon everything.’
Conant. The last Chief Magistrate.
Charlotte felt a sickening realisation come over her. Nathaniel Conant’s death had not been coincidence either.
‘I have housed you out of love for my sister,’ Lord Stanley continued, his voice hardening into steel, ‘but I will not continue financing you. You are welcome to remain here, but no further assistance will be forthcoming. I have never shared your convictions and, frankly, I find myself increasingly opposed to them. You ought to let the matter rest.’
Wilberforce looked distraught. ‘How can you say such a thing? Stanley, I am shocked by your turn in sentiment.’
Mrs Wilberforce looked miserably between husband and brother. ‘William, what if these people target us next?’
‘This matter is larger than either of us, Minerva,’ Mr Wilberforce replied through clenched teeth.
Mrs Wilberforce gave a broken sob. ‘You cannot mean that. I only wish to keep you safe, William. Why must you persist in this cause?’ she cried.
‘You have never supported my mission,’ he said bitterly. ‘I see that clearly now.’
‘It is not that I do not support you,’ she pleaded, ‘but you are placing yourself—and me—and Tom—in danger. We are receiving threatening letters now, William. I do not feel safe anymore.’
He stared at her for a long moment, his face rigid with anger and disappointment.
‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘Once this house party concludes, I shall make my own way. Clearly I have no allies here.’
Charlotte barely managed to step aside before he stormed from the study. He swept past her without even noticing her presence, too consumed by fury to see anything before him.
Inside the room, Mrs Wilberforce had collapsed into tears.
Lord Stanley crossed to her at once and drew her gently into his arms, stroking her hair.
‘It is for the best, Minerva. I am sure he will see reason once he cools down.’
At that moment, Lord Stanley lifted his head.
His gaze met Charlotte’s through the narrow opening of the doorway.
Then, without a word, he closed the study door.
Charlotte turned—
—and found herself standing face to face with Wolverton.
He had clearly overheard the exchange as well. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Was he pleased by what he had heard?
To Charlotte, he certainly appeared so.
Hushed murmurs soon spread along the corridor as several guests emerged from the card room, eager to discover the source of the disturbance.
Charlotte stepped neatly into their path. ‘Gentlemen,’ she said smoothly, ‘I assure you it is nothing more than a domestic matter. Please return to your cards.’
She ushered them away with gentle firmness until, little by little, the hallway emptied once more.