Chapter 8
Charlotte stood beside Hannah near the dowager duchess’s dressing table while ribbons, gloves, and shawls had somehow overtaken nearly every available surface in the room. Elizabeth sat before the mirror, positively glowing with excitement as Hannah adjusted the lace at her sleeves.
The older woman had already changed her mind regarding bonnets three separate times in less than ten minutes.
“I declare,” Elizabeth said brightly, “it feels as though I have not stepped properly into society for an age.”
Charlotte smiled as she adjusted the older woman’s shawl. “You are quite excited, Your Grace.”
“Of course I am,” Elizabeth replied. “Do you know how dreadfully dull this house becomes when one remains indoors too long?”
Hannah coughed discreetly into her hand, very likely disguising a laugh.
Elizabeth continued happily, “You shall make a splendid wife for Victor,” she declared. “Clearly you already know how to bend him to your will since you were able to get him to agree to this outing.”
Charlotte nearly dropped the gloves she was holding.
Beside her, Hannah went perfectly still for one second before lowering her head very quickly. Charlotte caught the maid’s eye briefly, and the shared look between them was almost enough to undo her composure entirely.
If only Elizabeth knew the truth and would accept it. The staff certainly knows it is a false engagement.
“Your Grace,” Charlotte said carefully, “I hardly believe I wield power over the duke in any way.”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth replied at once. “Victor has been impossible since infancy. The fact that he agreed to this outing proves you possess extraordinary powers.”
Charlotte felt heat rise unexpectedly into her cheeks.
Unfortunately, her mind immediately betrayed her with the memory of Victor kissing her in his study. The warmth of his mouth, the strength of his hand against her waist, the maddening calm in his expression afterwards,
Absolutely not. Do not think of it.
She shoved the thought firmly aside.
“You know,” Charlotte said quickly, desperate to redirect both the conversation and her own mind, “I believe I shall fetch a morsel from the kitchen before we leave. I also need to give my letters to Mr. Baxter for posting.”
Elizabeth smiled approvingly. “A fine idea, my dear. Perhaps you might ask the cook to prepare something for our drive as well?”
“Of course.”
“And lemon cakes,” Elizabeth added hopefully.
Charlotte laughed softly. “I shall see what may be done.”
She slipped from the room. The corridors downstairs were quiet as Charlotte descended toward the foyer, though her thoughts remained frustratingly occupied.
She had promised herself repeatedly not to dwell upon what happened in Victor’s study.
It had merely been a kiss born of irritation and proximity and his apparently unbearable habit of silencing arguments in scandalous ways.
Yet somehow the memory lingered constantly.
Annoying man.
Mr. Baxter appeared just as she entered the foyer, carrying a silver tray with his usual unshakable dignity.
“Ah, Miss Brown,” he said politely.
Charlotte handed him the stack of letters. “Would you please see these sent immediately?”
“Certainly, Miss.”
“And Lady Elizabeth and I shall require the carriage shortly for Hyde Park.”
Baxter inclined his head. “It is already prepared.”
Charlotte smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
She made her way toward the kitchens, already anticipating Elizabeth’s delight over the outing.
Truthfully, Charlotte was looking forward to it as well.
Elizabeth deserved more than endless confinement within the manor walls, and Charlotte privately felt rather triumphant over convincing Victor to allow it.
Though admittedly, the method by which she achieved victory remained deeply irritating. As she approached the kitchens, voices drifted through the partially open doorway.
“Did you hear the duke is still abed?” one maid whispered excitedly.
Charlotte slowed instinctively.
“At this hour?” another gasped. “Is he ill?”
“No,” the first maid replied. “Apparently, he returned only just before dawn.”
Charlotte recognized the speakers vaguely, Nora and Paula, two younger scullery maids with a dangerous fondness for gossip.
“Where was he?” Paula asked eagerly.
Nora lowered her voice dramatically despite the fact that Charlotte could still hear perfectly well. “Possibly a chop house,” she whispered. “Or perhaps one of those pleasure gardens gentlemen frequent.”
Paula gasped outright. “Again?”
“Well,” Nora replied knowingly, “it would hardly be the first time.”
Charlotte froze where she stood. An entirely unwelcome thought slipped immediately into her mind.
He has not brought one of his so-called female companions to the house since I've returned, so does that mean he is going to their home? What scandalous behavior does he get into when he's not at home?
Her stomach tightened unpleasantly. Which was ridiculous. Victor was not courting her. They were not truly engaged. He owed her absolutely nothing beyond the terms of their arrangement.
And yet…
Charlotte pushed the thought aside sharply.
She had already decided not to think about him that way after the incident in his study.
Dwelling upon the duke’s habits, or his kisses, could only lead to disaster.
Still, the image of him out all night in the company of other women unsettled her far more than it reasonably should have.
Annoying. Entirely annoying.
Charlotte cleared her throat loudly before stepping into the kitchens. Both maids jumped violently.
“Miss Brown!” Paula squeaked.
Charlotte kept her expression perfectly composed despite their obvious panic. “Good day.”
Nora turned crimson. “We did not realize anyone was there.”
“So I gathered,” Charlotte replied mildly.
The girls looked moments away from collapsing entirely. Charlotte decided, perhaps mercifully, not to mention the duke.
“Lady Elizabeth and I shall be leaving shortly for Hyde Park,” she said instead. “Would it be possible to prepare a few morsels for the journey?”
Both maids relaxed immediately. “Oh yes, Miss,” Nora said eagerly. “Cook already prepared lemon cakes this morning.”
Charlotte smiled despite herself. “Her Grace shall be delighted.”
As the girls hurried to obey, Charlotte lingered near the kitchen doorway, trying very hard to ignore the lingering irritation in her chest.
Victor Richards was free to spend his nights however he pleased.
So why does the thought bother me at all?
* * *
The carriage rolled to a smooth stop in Hyde Park, and Charlotte immediately noticed how bright the day had become. Sunlight filtered warmly through the trees while elegant ladies and gentlemen drifted leisurely along the pathways in colourful attire.
Carriages lined the road in neat succession, servants hovered nearby, and laughter carried faintly through the mild afternoon air. Beside her, Elizabeth positively glowed with delight.
“Oh, how wonderful,” the dowager sighed as the footman helped her descend. “I had forgotten how lovely the park becomes this time of year.”
Charlotte smiled as she followed her onto the pathway. “It is certainly crowded enough.”
“Naturally,” Elizabeth replied. “Society would expire entirely without opportunities to parade itself.”
Charlotte laughed softly. “You speak from experience, Your Grace?”
“My dear, I perfected the art of public admiration before you were born.”
Charlotte linked her arm gently through Elizabeth’s as they began strolling slowly beneath the trees. Around them, fashionable ladies displayed extravagant bonnets decorated with ribbons, feathers, and flowers that seemed increasingly absurd the longer Charlotte examined them.
Elizabeth lowered her voice conspiratorially. “That yellow gown ahead resembles a custard tart.”
Charlotte bit back a laugh. “Your Grace.”
“Well, it does,” she said happily.
A passing gentleman tipped his hat respectfully. “Good day, Your Grace.”
“Good day,” Elizabeth replied graciously with a head nod.
Another lady curtsied politely as they passed. “Wonderful to see you, Your Grace.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Thank you, Lady Fenwick.”
Charlotte quietly exhaled in relief each time someone merely greeted Elizabeth and continued onward. So far, nobody lingered long enough for confusion or awkwardness to arise.
See? Victor worried for nothing.
Elizabeth was perfectly composed, perfectly pleasant, and clearly enjoying herself immensely. Charlotte felt rather triumphant about the matter.
“I told your son fresh air was necessary,” she murmured lightly.
Elizabeth patted her hand. “You were correct, my dear.”
Charlotte tried very hard not to look too self-satisfied. As they continued walking, Elizabeth nodded toward the lake ahead with sudden amusement.
“Do you know,” she said, “many years ago I witnessed the greatest folly imaginable right there upon that water.”
Charlotte’s brows lifted immediately. “Indeed?”
“Oh yes,” Elizabeth replied eagerly. “A gentleman attempted to impress a young lady by rowing her himself. He stood up mid-boat to bow dramatically and tipped them both directly into the lake.”
Charlotte burst into laughter. “Surely not.”
“I assure you, society discussed nothing else for three weeks,” Elizabeth declared. “The poor girl emerged covered in pondweed whilst her mother screamed about ruined muslin.”
Charlotte laughed harder. “How dreadful.”
“The gentleman later married her,” Elizabeth added thoughtfully. “Entirely out of guilt, I suspect.”
“That may be the most romantic scandal I have ever heard.”
“It was certainly entertaining.”
Charlotte was still smiling when three elegantly dressed women approached them from the opposite direction. The eldest gasped pleasantly upon recognizing Elizabeth.
“Your Grace!” she exclaimed warmly. “How wonderful to see you.”
Elizabeth brightened immediately. “Mrs. Holly,” she said. “It has indeed been some time.”
The woman curtsied while her two sisters followed suit. “We are delighted to see you looking so healthy,” one sister said kindly.
“And out enjoying the sunshine at last,” added the other.
Charlotte relaxed slightly. Everything remained perfectly normal. Then Elizabeth smiled fondly and destroyed everything entirely.
“And this,” she announced proudly, “is Miss Charlotte Brown, Victor’s betrothed.”
Charlotte nearly stopped breathing.
“Oh no,” she blurted instantly. “I am not…”
But unfortunately, Elizabeth continued speaking loudly over her. “She has been such a comfort to Victor,” Elizabeth declared happily. “And naturally they are terribly devoted.”
The Holly sisters erupted immediately. “Engaged to the Duke of Mulford?”
“How romantic!”
“Congratulations, Miss Brown!”
Charlotte attempted desperately to interrupt. “There has been some confusion…”
“How exciting!”
“When is the wedding?”
“What a magnificent match!”
The women's questions came pouring out in such a frenzy. Each one suddenly vying for Charlotte's attention and acceptance. One demanded that she tell Charlotte the best place to have her gown made, while the other mentioned an engagement party to start the season.
Charlotte’s mind spun in horror as they spoke. Their words blurred together, and she felt nearly faint.
No, no, no. This is catastrophic.
She needed to pull them aside privately and explain everything immediately, but how exactly was she supposed to confess that the engagement was entirely fictional without also exposing Elizabeth’s condition?
Mrs. Holly clasped Charlotte’s hands warmly. “You must allow us to call upon you.”
Charlotte smiled weakly, feeling faint. “How very kind.”
“We are thrilled for you both,” another sister declared.
Elizabeth positively beamed beside her. “Aren’t they lovely together?”
Charlotte made one final desperate attempt. “Actually, His Grace and I merely…”
But the sisters were already moving onward down the path, their excited voices carrying clearly behind them.
“The Duke of Mulford is engaged!”
“To Miss Brown!”
“She seems very pretty!”
Charlotte stared after them in utter despair. It had happened so quickly she had not managed a single word of proper damage control.
Beside her, Elizabeth looked delighted. “Well,” she said happily, “that went wonderfully.”
Charlotte forced a smile so strained it nearly hurt. “Yes,” she said faintly. “Wonderfully.”
Panic immediately flooded her thoughts. By this evening, half of London would likely believe she was genuinely betrothed to the duke. By tomorrow morning, society would probably have selected wedding flowers.
Victor is going to be furious.
Actually, furious might be preferable. He might simply toss her directly out into the Serpentine.
“Your Grace,” Charlotte said quickly, “I fear I am suddenly feeling rather unwell.”
Elizabeth’s expression shifted instantly to concern. “Oh, dear.”
“I think perhaps we ought to return home.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said at once. “You poor thing.”
Guilt stabbed Charlotte immediately.
I do not want to lie to her, but I do not know what else to do.
Elizabeth had enjoyed herself so much, and now Charlotte was ruining the outing entirely because she lacked the courage to explain the disaster properly.
Still, what else could I do?
They returned toward the carriage at a slower pace while Elizabeth fussed gently over her. “You are quite pale,” the dowager worried.
“I shall recover shortly,” Charlotte promised weakly.
The footman helped them back inside the carriage, and Elizabeth sighed contentedly as they settled into their seats.
“Despite your illness,” she said warmly, “I had a lovely afternoon. We shall do this once a week.”
Charlotte smiled guiltily.
Meanwhile, her mind raced ahead toward one horrifying certainty. At some point very soon, she would have to tell Victor what had happened. And somehow, she suspected the duke was not going to enjoy the news nearly as much as Elizabeth had.
Will he fire me directly?