Chapter 27 #2
‘Distasteful?’ she cried. ‘You accused me of attempting to entrap you within five minutes of our acquaintance. And what was it you said? Ah yes—that I had nothing to recommend me. You made your disdain perfectly plain from the very beginning.’
A faint flush rose along his collar.
‘Tell me, Miss Lucas, how precisely was I meant to interpret your throwing yourself upon me at the masquerade? Or your dramatic insistence that my coffee had been poisoned, if not with disbelief?’ His expression hardened slightly.
Charlotte stared at him in frustration.
‘And afterwards, during my first week at Alderley Park, when I was struggling with Tom, you accused me of being incompetent and quite beneath your notice. What was that, if not you showing me exactly how distasteful you found me?’
His jaw tightened. He stepped closer to her now.
‘I behaved towards a young female employee under my protection exactly as any honourable employer ought,’ he replied defensively, his tone controlled, though edged now with indignation.
‘And yes—I was suspicious of you. I considered that suspicion entirely justified, particularly when you had arrived here under an assumed name.’
Charlotte baulked but did not retreat. She squared her shoulders despite the intensity of his gaze.
He had stepped closer.
Far too close.
His eyes were dark now, as though barely restraining something dangerous beneath the surface. Her pulse stumbled.
She placed both hands firmly against his chest and pushed, but he did not move so much as an inch.
For one astonishing moment, she thought he was going to close the distance between them and kiss her.
An unwanted thrill fluttered traitorously through her, but she crushed it at once.
All the weeks of grief—of losing her father, of her mother’s betrayal, of fear over her fate as the murder suspect, of anger at the injustice of a life seemingly destined for lonely spinsterhood—suddenly surged to the surface.
Whether he deserved the full force of it or not, she unleashed it upon him.
‘I might have forgiven your suspicion, my lord, had it been delivered with even the smallest degree of civility,’ she said, fighting to steady her voice as tears blurred her vision.
‘But you spoke with such contempt and cold reserve that I could hardly mistake your opinion of me. Even though you outrank him, my lord, your behaviour towards me, especially in the early days, makes the Captain the better—and more gentlemanly—man.’
For the first time since she had known him, he looked properly taken aback.
The words seemed to strike him physically. He took an unsteady step backwards.
His expression shifted—something close to shame flickering beneath the composure.
‘And this is truly your opinion of me?’ His voice had gone low and unnervingly controlled. ‘Well, perhaps your sensibilities were hurt, but did you not consider for a moment that I was trying to protect you—and still am?’
The question disturbed her more than she cared to admit.
Only moments earlier he had nearly throttled Wolverton for suggesting she be handed over like property. He had looked genuinely furious—furious for her. And now, before half the household, he had claimed her without hesitation, risking scandal himself in the process.
Worse still, she could not dismiss the memory of his arms around her in the library. The steadiness of him. The way he had drawn her close so instinctively, as though protecting her had become the most natural thing in the world.
Heat crept treacherously into her cheeks.
She had accused him of contempt. Of dismissiveness. Of cruelty.
Yet all the while he had been risking his life to stop the very men hunting her.
As the silence stretched between them, he spoke first.
‘Perhaps,’ he said at last, his tone carefully controlled, ‘I was mistaken.’
The quiet admission made something shift agonisingly inside her chest.
She opened her mouth, an apology rising instinctively to her lips. ‘I am—’
But he cut her off.
‘You need not fear,’ he continued coolly. ‘We shall not marry.’
His cool tone snapped her back to reality. She could not allow herself to falter now she thought defiantly. It was best this way. Let him think the worst of her.
Whatever this engagement was, it had not been born from affection, but necessity.
No. She could not marry the man who only moments earlier had intended to offer for another. She could not allow him to sacrifice himself out of duty and later resent her for it.
‘We are in the midst of a dangerous investigation,’ she said firmly.
‘This is no time for theatrics. I shall go straight to Mrs Wilberforce and Lady Bainbridge and tell them it was all a misunderstanding—that you mistook me for Miss Pearson and, being the noble idiot you are, felt obliged to do the honourable thing.’
She turned on her heel to leave, but before she had taken two steps he caught her arm and drew her back firmly.
‘You will do no such thing.’
‘Release me at once,’ she said, unnerved by the command in his voice. ‘This is ridiculous. We should be arresting Hamilton and Boulton—they are clearly murderous maniacs, not playing at false engagements.’
‘We cannot make arrests now. Weeks of work would be undone. We must find them all, not merely one or two members. Otherwise they will continue their operations without pause. It would be pointless.’
‘But we cannot pretend—’
With one hand still wrapped about her arm, he raised the other and brushed his fingers lightly against her lips.
A rush of sensation swept through her, and Charlotte went utterly motionless.
‘We cannot undo it now,’ he said quietly. ‘Wolverton was killed here, and the Odd Fellows will suspect we concealed the body.’ His brow furrowed. ‘We must appear convincing as a betrothed couple. It may confuse them—and at the very least buy us time.’
Slowly he lowered his hand, but Charlotte still felt the ghost of his touch lingering against her mouth.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, looking faintly disconcerted himself.
‘If not,’ he added, ‘your life will truly be in danger. If we suddenly deny our engagement, they will suspect we were about something else entirely. Something such as concealing the body—or discovering the passage.’
Charlotte’s stomach sank.
‘But—what are we to do? We cannot marry,’ she said, sounding almost appalled by the notion.
Something shuttered briefly across his expression.
‘I understand you perfectly, madam,’ he replied coolly. ‘Believe me—after this moment, matrimony to you will not enter my mind again.’
The words landed with rather more force than they ought.
He stepped further away from her then, retreating behind composure once more.
‘We shall merely maintain appearances for your protection until we uncover the remainder of them,’ he continued in a more controlled tone. ‘They will not dare harm you whilst you are publicly attached to me. Afterwards, we shall quietly find some means of ending it.’
Another deception. Another performance to maintain.
But she knew he was right.
It was far safer to regard the engagement as precisely what it was: a temporary fiction born from scandal, murder, and exceedingly poor luck.
It was strategy. Necessity. A convenient shield to protect them both from suspicion after being discovered alone together beside a corpse.
That was all.
Surely that was all.
‘Fine,’ she said at last, reluctantly. ‘What will you do about the body?’
‘I shall move it to a more... suitable location. And I must discuss matters with the Bow Street Runners, as well as send an express to the Lord Chief Justice explaining the situation.’ He looked suddenly weary. ‘Now, tell me exactly what you saw and heard.’
Charlotte launched into her account, describing everything as clearly as she could recall. Lord Stanley listened without interruption, only occasionally betraying brief, controlled reactions.
When she finished, he regarded her for a moment.
‘I am sorry you had to witness this.’
Charlotte was quietly moved by his concern, though she suppressed the feeling at once. ‘What will you do now?’
He turned the signet ring upon his finger absently. ‘I shall place a few footmen in Wolverton’s room. If the Odd Fellows attempt to search it tonight, we shall catch them. Though I doubt they will risk it, given their plans were thwarted.’
‘What will you say regarding his disappearance?’ she asked, nodding towards the bookcase.
‘I shall inform the guests in the morning that he was called away suddenly on urgent business.’
‘Now,’ he added quickly, before she could protest, ‘return to your room. My footmen will escort you. No more wandering the corridors unaccompanied. It is too dangerous.’
Charlotte turned towards the door, but as her hand reached the handle, she paused and glanced back at him. He tilted his head slightly, studying her with a contemplative expression. For the briefest moment, she thought he looked almost sad.
A twinge of guilt stirred within her. She tried to speak, but the words deserted her.
Charlotte shifted uneasily beneath his gaze.
‘Get some rest. My men will fetch you once the household has retired for the night, and together we shall find this secret passage.’