Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlotte raced into the drawing room ahead of the others. She found her father standing in front of the fireplace. His blond head was bent, his spine straight, and his hands clasped at his back.
He was a tall, well-made gentleman, and still quite striking in appearance, though he was in his middle fifties.
But it wasn’t that which made him so intimidating to those who didn’t know him.
It was something in his posture, and in the coolness of his gaze.
Something in the way he had of remaining silent when others felt compelled to speak.
Charlotte sensed it now just as surely as a stranger might. That unnerving self-control her father possessed when confronting a difficult situation. It was enough to send a jolt of apprehension through her.
“Papa?” she queried anxiously.
Her father turned. Relief was evident in his ice-gray gaze at the sight of her. “Charlotte.”
“Papa!” Crossing the room in a few swift strides, Charlotte flung her arms about his neck. He hugged her firmly in return. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you and Mama were to spend the summer at Beasley?”
“We’ve been in Hertfordshire,” he said.
“At Worth House?” It was their family seat, where Charlotte’s grandfather, the Earl of Allendale, still resided with her grandmother.
“Quite,” her father said. “Which goes some way to explaining the time it’s taken me to get here.”
“But why have you come?” She drew back, hastily scanning his face. “Has something happened?” A terrible thought occurred to her. “It’s not Mama, is it? Or Agatha?”
“The family is well.” Papa’s countenance was grave. “Except for you, it would seem.”
She gave him a bewildered look. “I don’t understand.”
Lucy slipped into the drawing room, ashen-faced. Mrs. Goodenough lingered anxiously behind her.
Papa acknowledged Lucy with a bow. “Miss Champion.”
“Lord St. Clare.” Lucy sketched a curtsy in return. “I assume you’re, ah, here in response to the, um…the letter I sent?”
Understanding hit Charlotte like a lightning bolt. She turned her stricken gaze on her friend. “You wrote to my father?”
“She wrote to your sister,” Papa said. “Who wisely gave the letter to me.” He addressed Lucy.
“It was misdirected initially. It only reached Hertfordshire after having first made the rounds of half the West Country. On receiving it, I set out straightaway.” His attention returned to Charlotte.
“I brought Tate with me, and a handful of servants. However, I thought it best that your mother remain at Worth until I ascertained the gravity of the situation.”
Mr. Tate was Papa’s secretary—a former law clerk in Chancery and a veritable bloodhound when it came to sniffing out obscure information. If he had come, then Papa must have thought the situation to be very serious indeed.
Charlotte directed an accusing glare at her friend. “What did you say in your letter?”
Lucy looked back at her with conscience-stricken eyes. She had gone vaguely white about the lips.
“She informed Agatha that you had disappeared after a walk the previous morning,” Papa replied when it was evident that Lucy would not. “She inquired if you had returned home to Somerset.”
Charlotte’s mouth was suddenly dry. She now comprehended the meaning behind all those veiled remarks Lucy had made and all the guilty looks she had given her.
I wish I’d known you’d been injured! she’d cried the day Charlotte had returned. If I had, I would never have acted so rashly!
Rashly indeed, Charlotte thought with a flare of resentment.
Yet, Lucy had only written to Agatha. It was Agatha herself who had relayed the intelligence to Papa.
“P-Please, do sit down,” Lucy stammered. Stepping forward, she gestured to the sofa. “Mrs. Goodenough? Perhaps we might have some tea?”
“Right away, Miss Champion,” Mrs. Goodenough said before scurrying off.
Papa waited for Charlotte and Lucy to take their seats before joining Charlotte on the sofa.
Lucy perched in the upholstered chair across from them, her body taut as a wire. “I was, perhaps, precipitate in writing. Charlotte has returned now, as you see, and all is as it should be.”
Papa’s expression was as solemn as it had often been when calling one of Charlotte’s brothers to account for some misdemeanor or other. Rather more solemn, Charlotte feared. “Your housekeeper informs me that a doctor was summoned?”
“Er, yes.” Lucy coughed, repeatedly clearing her throat. “That is, I thought it best—”
“I’m fine, Papa,” Charlotte broke in. “It was all just a—”
Her father silenced her with a gesture. “I will, of course, require a word with him.”
“Of course.” Lucy appeared a hair’s breadth from falling into a faint. She nonetheless surged to her feet. “I’ll send Frog to fetch him at once.” With that, she fled the room.
“In the meanwhile—” Papa turned his sights back on Charlotte. “You can tell me exactly what transpired here, and how it is that you came to be missing for an entire day and night.”
Charlotte mustered a weak excuse for a smile. “Really, Papa. You make it sound so dreadful.”
Her father didn’t reply. Neither did he appear amused.
Her courage waned. She began to think that Lucy had the right of it. Better to quit the room than to face Papa’s displeasure.
But Charlotte refused to be a coward.
She set her shoulders. “I was atop the wall that surrounds an abandoned estate, attempting to save an injured dog, when I took an unfortunate tumble. I hit my head on the stones and lost consciousness for a time—” She stopped abruptly at the look on her father’s face. “Papa?"
“Go on,” he commanded.
She swallowed hard. “Only, you see, the manor house wasn’t abandoned. The new Earl of Eversleigh was lately in residence after having just inherited the title. He came to my aid and nursed me until I awakened later that same day.”
“He sent for the doctor, I presume?”
“He did. But… Dr. Calthrop was away at the time. He wasn’t expected back until the following morning. Lord Eversleigh had to look after me himself until then. I was, um, obliged to stay the night.”
Papa’s expression was intent. “Under the care of this gentleman and his lady wife?”
“Lord Eversleigh has no wife.”
“I see.”
Charlotte inwardly withered under her father’s too-perceptive gaze. “He has a valet,” she offered. “He was there most of the time.”
“And Miss Champion?” Papa asked. “She was there too, naturally?”
“She was not,” Charlotte admitted. “Lord Eversleigh would have sent for her, but the thing is…” She steeled herself for her father’s reaction. “I couldn’t precisely tell him to do so because I didn’t exactly remember who I was until the next day.”
Her father said nothing. Indeed, he was so still that, for an alarming moment, Charlotte understood why she had sometimes heard people refer to the illustrious Viscount St. Clare as a sentient block of ice.
“Nothing happened, Papa,” she whispered.
Her conscience panged as she uttered the words, bringing a rush of heat to her cheeks.
She was viscerally reminded of how Magnus had undressed her in his bed.
The way he’d removed her bodice, her corset, her skirts, stripping her all the way down to her shift. That hadn’t been nothing.
“Come here,” Papa said.
Charlotte immediately obeyed. Her father’s arm came about her. Drawing her close, he touched a gentle hand to her head. “Where—?”
“At the back.”
His fingers moved through her hair, lightly brushing over her newly healed wound.
“Oh, why did Agatha have to give you that letter?” she burst out.
“You’re not to blame your sister,” Papa said. “She feels badly enough as it is.”
And well she should, Charlotte thought uncharitably.
“She’s entrusted me with a note for you,” Papa continued, “no doubt explaining her reasoning. Your mother has sent a note as well. I have them in one of my cases.”
“If Lucy had only contained herself, you might all have been spared the trouble—” Charlotte broke off with a wince.
“Is it still very tender?” her father asked in prompt concern.
“Not very,” she lied.
“We’ll see what the doctor has to say.”
“If you insist upon it.” Charlotte sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be any more of that nonsense Dr. Calthrop had uttered about village boys falling into comas and dying. It was the last thing her father needed to hear at present.
“And all because of an injured dog,” he remarked as he finished his examination. “I might have guessed.”
“Lord Eversleigh is taking care of him for me until I return home,” she said. “He’s a splendid gentleman, really. A former captain in the Navy. A distinguished one as well. He faced cannon fire at the Battle of Kagoshima. He suffered burns from it.”
Papa set her apart from him again, once more studying her face. “Is that a fact?”
Charlotte looked back at her father earnestly. “He saved my life.”
“The Earl of Eversleigh,” he repeated.
“Magnus Sterling,” she said. “Captain Magnus Sterling. He’s returned to England to claim his title.”
“And his ruined estate?” Papa suggested dryly. “And a wealthy bride too, perhaps?”
Charlotte pulled back. “It isn’t like that!
He’s not a fortune hunter. Quite the opposite.
He’s done everything in his power to discourage our friendship, even so far as commanding me away himself.
He doesn’t trust people. Or like them very much.
And he has good reason, Papa. Indeed, his life has not been easy. ”
“Which I’m sure he’s expounded on to you in suitably romantic terms.”
Her brows sank. “As if I wouldn’t recognize such underhanded tactics!”
“You’re young, Charlotte.”
“Not that young.”
“Young enough.” Papa smoothed her hair. “It wasn’t so long ago that you were reading fairy stories and hosting tea parties for your dogs.”
Charlotte bristled. “I have not given parties for the dogs since I was in the nursery. As for fairy stories—” She gave her father a disgruntled frown. “Why must everyone assume that I have a fixation on cursed castles and handsome princes?”
“Everyone?” Papa queried with interest.
“Just because Magnus lives in a neglected manor house, and just because he’s a bit beastly, doesn’t mean that I’ve mistaken him for some enchanted prince in a fairytale. Even if he did rescue me and look after me and—”
“Charlotte.”
“I do enjoy reading,” she said. “I readily admit it. But it’s been a long while since fairy tales captured my imagination to the exclusion of everything else. I’ve long given up on handsome princes.”
Papa betrayed a brief smile. “You prefer your princes of the unhandsome variety?”
She glared at him. “I prefer to meet my heroes on terms of equality.”
“And this Lord Eversleigh is a hero?” Her father was silent a moment. “Very well.”
Charlotte’s stomach tensed. She stared at her father, uncertain of his reaction. “What does that mean?”
“It means I must speak to the doctor,” he said. “I must assure myself that your health is in order, that you’re safe and well enough for me to inform your mother of the same. And then…”
“And then?” she pressed hopefully.
Her father smiled in grim return. “And then,” he said, “when I am in full possession of the facts, I shall call on the Earl of Eversleigh.”