Lady of Sin (23 page)

She considered that assistance again, and how generous it had been. Unusually so. She should have wondered why. She prided herself on being astute, but her ignorance and blind faith in Mardenford’s motivations had been unbearably naive.

“Most likely Mardenford plans to remarry,” Bianca suggested. “Perhaps his intended wants to be queen, and demands the dowager be thoroughly uncrowned.”

“Bianca is probably correct. His refusal to allow you to see the child is peculiar, however,” Pen said. “Turning you out with only your personal property, severing you from the child you love—he never appeared to be such a harsh man. It is as if he were divorcing you.”

Pen had no idea how accurate her description was, and how it touched on the reasons for this harshness. The implications left Charlotte a little sick whenever she considered them. Yet another set of memories had taken on new meaning in the last day.

She hoped there would be no more of that. An entire decade had been rewritten already.

“I must see Ambrose. I will not accept that part of Mardenford’s plan.” Not a plan. A punishment. For infidelity and disloyalty. His goal was to make her pay, no matter what the pain and distress to his own son. Already her heart mourned the loss of the child.

A warm hand reached and covered hers. She looked over to see Bianca’s sympathy.

“We will find a way for you to see him, Charl. If we put our heads to it, we can devise some plan.”

Charlotte hoped so. She had lost much recently, but most of it was in the past. Ambrose was part of her life now. Her heart might learn to accommodate the rest, but the grief forming over the child would never go away.

Nathaniel rode his horse slowly through Hyde Park. It had rained yesterday, so his rare participation in London’s fashionable hour had been delayed by a day.

Carriages and horses filled the park. Society was returning to town in preparation of the season. Soon the park would be jammed on fair days, and even busy on those that threatened rain. Much had changed in the rituals in recent years, but not the desire to see and be seen while on parade here.

He greeted and chatted and flattered, as was expected. He avoided the lures of mothers looking to marry off daughters this year, and dodged the bait of ladies casting for amorous diversions. All the while he kept his eyes on the passing coaches, looking for Charlotte’s.

A quick note two days ago had requested he meet her in the park yesterday if it did not rain, or today if it did. The weather’s delay meant he had already learned the news she would impart. Word had reached his ears that Charlotte was leaving that big house after all these years.

He did not see her until she was almost upon him. She had not come in a coach, but was riding a pretty horse. Fine boned, compact, and spirited, the dark filly’s lines matched Charlotte’s own.

He moved his horse forward, and they “accidentally” met on the path.

“Lady M., this is an unexpected pleasure. I can see you agree that the day is too fair to be imprisoned in a coach.”

“To be sure, Mr. Knightridge. It is also too brisk to be bound to this path. I have been looking for someone foolish enough to ride with me on the sodden fields, and your display of that quality on so many occasions suggests you might do.”

“By all means. Lead the way.”

“Aren’t you afraid that lacking your leadership we will find ourselves in Canterbury? You strike me as someone who would not allow another male to lead, let alone a woman.”

“I do not take the lead when I have four in hand, madam, but it is clear who is master on the road all the same.”

The occupants of a passing carriage giggled at the sparring. Two nearby riders slowed their pace in order to enjoy the show.

Confident that they had shown society the bristling nature of their relationship, Charlotte turned her horse and cantered off the path and across the field.

She did not stop until they were a good distance from anyone, even if they were still in full view of the world.

“You are better?” he asked as he drew up alongside her and they slowed to a walk.

She had left him after their last night subdued and thoughtful. He knew that his embrace had not resolved all her fears and questions, however.

“Much better. It will still be some time before I truly accept it all, but I no longer want to hit you. Or him.”

“I am glad. However, it was not wise to confront Mardenford with your discovery, Charl.”

“I did not confront him. He does not know that I learned about any of it.”

“When I heard of your leaving that house, I just assumed—”

“He claimed he wants to sell the house, but that is a feint. He will no longer receive me. He knows about you and me, and that is partly why he has done this. He also knows that you have been asking questions, so our liaison is a special betrayal in his eyes.”

He had been feeling guilty, and this added to the burden. “I am sorry, Charl. I was very discreet and am surprised he learned of my inquiries. Perhaps I trusted the wrong men.”

“Or perhaps he went looking for evidence of inquiries. He implied as much. He mentioned the tutor. Maybe Mr. Yardley learned of your questions himself, and in turn informed Mardenford.”

“Even so, turning you out is a harsh reaction.”

“Pen says it is as if he is divorcing me.” Her mouth tightened as she said it.

When he did not respond, she shot him a sharp glance. “You knew. You saw it, didn’t you?”

“I saw enough to wonder. Nor do I think it is base lust.”

“That only makes it worse, and more hopeless. It would help enormously if you had not seen it. Then I could pretend it was not so obvious that I should have seen too. I am feeling stupid again, and recently I have had enough of feeling stupid to last a lifetime.”

“It was not obvious. No one whispers about it.”

“Then how did you know?”

“It was in his eyes that first time I called on you.”

She laughed, and her eyes glinted for the first time this day. “Oh, it feels so good to laugh.” She gasped, catching her breath. “I must learn to trust what you see in all those eyes, Nathaniel.”

“Despite your laughter, I see pain in yours, Charlotte. A new one.”

The glint moistened. She stopped her horse. He paced around so he could face her as they sat side by side.

“In barring me from the house, he has also barred me from Ambrose. This divorce is quite thorough.”

He barely bit back a curse. “Mardenford is a scoundrel to do this. You are like the boy’s mother. He is sacrificing his child’s happiness.”

“Yes. It seems he loves his own pride more than his son. That shocks and worries me. I fear that Ambrose will have very little attention now that I am gone.”

She contained her sadness, but it was there, brimming at her eyes. He wished they were alone, out of sight, and he could hold her again.

That would solve nothing, however. Once the embrace ended, she would still face the loss of the child she loved like her own. It was their embrace that had cost her that love too.

They sat in silence, surrounded by a brisk breeze carrying the scents of resurrection. The odors of spring mocked the hollow forming in his chest, where the echoes of nostalgia joined the slow, sad beat of a song’s final notes.

He knew what he had to do, but a visceral rebellion resisted anyway. His gaze lingered on her face as time pulsed by.

“He will relent about the child, surely. If we end this affair, he will at least change his mind on that.” The words felt thick in his mouth.

She did not respond at once. She gazed to the distant path and its parade of the fashionable world. Then she looked in his eyes.

“I considered it.”

Of course she had. Any mother would.

“Short of moving to France, I am not sure that I can, however,” she added.

Her gaze communicated her affirmation of their passion more clearly than her words. His pride soared at this acknowledgment that the hunger was mutual and impossible to deny, but he wondered if she would soon resent how much it cost her.

“I do not think he would relent, either,” she said. “It is not only the insult to his pride, or his affections for me, that caused this rash move. He was very calm until he spoke of your inquiries. Then he became so angry it frightened me. He is worried, Nathaniel. He is so worried, it has made him a different man. What does he fear, that has transformed him so?”

“Perhaps he fears losing something valuable. You alone would qualify.”

She shook her head. “He would have left the door ajar, then. He would have given me a way to return. Instead his repudiation is complete. He fears losing something else.”

He had decided two nights ago not to contemplate what that something else might be. “Do not dwell on it. Who can know a man’s mind in such things? It was probably just jealousy.”

“I do not think you believe that.”

“Lady M., you are trying to be vexing again, claiming to know what I believe.”

She did not pick up the playful cue. “You are trying to protect me, Nathaniel, and it is very sweet. You said that the asking and the knowing were over, because you want to spare me. However, I think one more inquiry is necessary.”

He stifled a sigh. Whether in the lead or holding the reins, he actually had no control over this woman once her mind started working. “Which one would that be?”

“I want to speak with that tutor.”

“No.”

She raised her eyebrows at his blunt response. Another glint, an old one that he knew very well, entered her eyes.

While it would help if she submitted to his displays of mastery, he doubted he would want her so much if she did. He tried a more appeasing tone and refusal.

“I do not think that is wise.”

“I do. Can you find him, Nathaniel? Can you learn where he is now?”

“Do not do this, Charlotte. It will change nothing.”

“It will answer questions that I cannot live with forever. Even without Mardenford’s repudiation, I would have sought that man out. My brother-in-law’s fear only makes the mystery bigger, and has me thinking that my new view of the past is not the correct one at all.”

He understood her need to know, but he wished she would retreat. He had rejected all the questions, to spare her. She had never requested that compromise, but he had embraced it without a second thought when the weight of the answers landed on her shoulders. Now here she was, forcing it forward against his better judgment.

She gazed at him so earnestly, so honestly. She appeared vulnerable and soft, but the formidable Lady M. still existed beneath the fragility. He saw her determination as well as her confusion.

With him or without him, she was going to speak with that tutor.

“I will find him,” he said. “We will listen to his story together.”

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

I
t was not such a small wedding. The family alone made for a good group, and friends had traveled down from London as well. They all filled the small church in a town near the coastal property that Julian Hampton owned in Essex.

Charlotte watched the ceremony begin, thinking the simplicity of the setting was appropriate. Not because a grand London affair would have been wrong, and not because of the circumstances of this marriage. If ever God had meant a man and woman to be joined in life, it was Penelope and Julian.

Rather, the quiet nature of the wedding was like their love. The ancient stones of the church symbolized the longevity and faith of their affections.

Pen looked beautiful in the blush dress she had chosen, and Julian was equally handsome. If they had worn rags, however, Charlotte still would have felt the tears burning her throat. Their expressions garbed them in glory such as no clothing could. Pen glowed, and Julian’s eyes reflected his triumph and awe that the woman he loved was finally his.

Charlotte was not alone in being moved. Pen and Julian exchanged vows in a church gone silent with emotion.

Charlotte glanced at the men who had stood by Pen’s side over the years. Laclere’s expression appeared tight, which meant he fought to contain what stirred his heart. Dante, who had left Fleur and the baby at Laclere Park in order to see his sister wed, smiled with contentment that Pen would now know the happiness she deserved.

Another man caught her eye. Not a relative, but much more than a friend. He sat at the side of the church, his dark eyes on the ceremony, his classical profile carving the air and his golden crown marking his spot. One might think him a casual acquaintance from his place in the gathering among the visitors.

He did not appear really engaged in the event. His expression seemed distracted. Was he contemplating his visit to her new home two nights ago? As soon as Pen left for the coast, they had arranged an assignation. There had been no conversation upon his arrival, but instead an immediate rush to bed and a tumultuous passion as they both quenched the mad craving that deepened with every separation.

Perhaps he dwelled on the little journey that would follow this celebration. He had located Mr. Yardley, the tutor, and when he and she returned to town, it would be by way of Hertfordshire.

She returned her full attention to Pen and Julian. Suddenly Mardenford’s words came back to her.
Bad blood wins out eventually.
No doubt he would see this marriage that way, as Pen displaying the Duclaircs’ propensity for behavior less than acceptable.

She found herself smiling. Mardenford was right. Her family did have that tendency, and always had. But it had led her sister and her brothers to happiness that exceeded what most others knew. There was no doubt about the soul-stirring love shared by her sister and Hampton as they were bound by law. It affected the air and the light and gathered everyone inside its awesome power.

She looked at Pen and Julian with new eyes. How courageous they were. Not in refusing to conform, but in their complete love for each other. How brave to show another your naked heart and soul and embrace the danger as well as the joy. What occurred between naked bodies was a small thing in comparison.

She felt a stirring within the emotion-laden atmosphere. She looked to its source, and found Nathaniel watching her.

His gaze communicated more than memories of their recent assignation. There were depths and questions in his eyes that she could not read, but she knew they had to do with her. With the two of them, and what waited within their passion.

The wedding breakfast was simple but elegant. Nathaniel assumed that Bianca, Viscountess Laclere, had a hand in that.

The party gathered at tables set in the rustic, whitewashed rooms of the coastal house that Hampton owned. The scent and sounds of the sea flowed in the open windows. The weather proved fair, as if heaven chose to favor the reason for the celebration.

Hothouse flowers joined native greenery in forcing the season’s images by a month, and servants brought down from London cooked and served, making do with a kitchen never intended for such a fete. There was no attempt to transfer the formalities of a London wedding to this site. Instead it took the tone of an elegant country party being held in Tuscany or Provence.

Nathaniel discovered that his place was next to Charlotte’s, at the main table that stretched through the sitting room overlooking the sea. They were seated across from the Duchess of Everdon and the financier Daniel St. John.

“I am honored,” he said to Charlotte as he took his seat. She looked beautiful today. In that sapphire dress, she was a cool lake into which he longed to plunge.

Charlotte glanced toward her sister-in-law, Bianca. “She knows. I assume she approves, if she placed you here. Laclere must not mind too much if he did not object.”

“That is a relief. I would not want him minding
too
much.” He had received a speculative glance or two from Laclere since arriving at the wedding. “Lady Laclere has been indiscreet, I think. I suspect she has told your entire family and your closest friends.” There had been additional quizzical looks from most of them. Right now the Duchess of Everdon was assessing him very critically from the other side of the table.

“We have such a contentious history that they find this friendship odd. Everyone is surprised.” She laughed. “Even me.”

He tilted his head so he could speak lowly. “I am not. That party was not the first time I desired you. You provoked me during that history in many ways, Charlotte. Perhaps the passionate provocations in turn provoked the history itself.”

“Perhaps so, for both of us.”

It was a strange moment to admit to each other that their little battles had been a way to hide other irritations. The ceremony, the fair day, even the joy filling the house made it easy, however.

She had a right to know his interest was not entirely recent, but he had never expected her to let him know the same thing.

She smiled impishly. “Now that the first provocation is satisfied, perhaps the others will eventually disappear.”

“I hope not. How dull. I think you will always provoke me in all kinds of ways. After all, you know my game, just as I know yours. It is disconcerting to be so thoroughly comprehended by another. It is also very . . . compelling.”

A sweet smile softened her countenance so much it bordered on indiscreet. “Most compelling, Nathaniel. Also a bit frighening. Like being on the brink of a cliff.”

She looked in his eyes, and the party faded away for a moment. Her gaze shifted, first to Laclere and Bianca, then to Dante, and finally to Pen and Hampton.

“I realized something today, Nathaniel. There are no neat fits to these things. No smooth roads. A bridge does not appear suddenly to take you forward when you reach a chasm. One either retreats to safety, or one jumps and trusts the stride is long enough. I am thinking that I retreated too quickly, and too often, in the past.”

The party intruded again, demanding their attention. He forced the necessary smiles, and joined in conversation with St. John. All the while most of his thoughts dwelled on the woman by his side, and her startling admission of the brink to which their affair had led her.

He pretended to hear something the duchess was saying, but he angled his head so he could whisper into Charlotte’s ear.

“Jump with me.”

Most of the wedding guests left by midafternoon. Finally, the family began taking their leave as well.

Charlotte strolled out to the terrace that overlooked the sea.

Jump with me.
It was an astonishing invitation. A frightening one.

At the sound of a step, she looked behind her. It was not Nathaniel. Laclere had followed. He came to her side.

“This property is beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, breathing the sea air deeply.

“Handsome and private and just a little wild, much like its owner,” he said.

She laughed at the apt characterization of Pen’s new husband. They enjoyed the view in silence while the vague sounds of final departures leaked from the house and the front drive.

“He asked me to marry him,” she said. “Nathaniel did. It was out of obligation, of course. I refused.”

“Obligation? What obligation?”

“That doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know that he did offer.”

“That was very decent of him, I expect.”

“Yes, it was.”

“If you say so. I wouldn’t know, since I have not heard the story behind this obligation.”

Nor would he. Ever.

They watched a few more waves crash against the seawall beneath them.

“I will not be returning to London with you,” she said. She had ridden down from town in Laclere’s coach, with Bianca and Dante.

He did not respond. She turned her attention to his harshly chiseled profile. His piercing blue eyes did not show disapproval, just thoughts that made him look serious.

“I will be making a short journey before returning to town,” she said.

“That explains the extra portmanteau. I trust you are not traveling alone. Did you tell me he had proposed so I would not object?”

“In part. You are not going to embarrass me by talking to him about it, are you?”

“Bianca asked the same thing. How did I acquire a reputation for doing such things?”

“Perhaps by being overbearing on occasion, especially when we all were younger. Also you look at him as though you disapprove.”

“So Knightridge has been waiting for me to stick my nose into your affair, has he?” He chuckled. “I neither approve nor disapprove, Charl. I am merely surprised. It is not disapproval he sees when I look at him, but astonishment.”

“Because we do not like each other?”

“Because you have favored no man all these years, even though half of London would have pursued you if given the slightest encouragement.”

He spoke casually, as if they agreed on his observation. In truth, she thought it was a peculiar thing for him to say.

“I did not notice half of London waiting to pursue me. I did not even notice a tiny corner of London interested in doing so.”

“Didn’t you? Well, it appears that is over, and I am glad for it. You grieved longer than most, but you are at long last yourself again. If Knightridge finally drew you out of mourning, I have no quarrel with him.”

He appeared relaxed and conversational. He had no idea he kept saying the most extraordinary things.

“I was not in mourning. I did not grieve long at all. I resumed my duties and my life faster than most.”

Her firm tone surprised him. He studied her face with curious, concerned eyes. “Perhaps you would have done better to wail and get sick from it, Charl. If you have not been grieving these last years, what do you call it? What is the word given to the state that causes a young widow to not even notice for six years that other men want her?”

Had she been mourning? Was that the name for the even, dulled emotions of those years? If so, had she been mourning Philip, or the safety and comfort she had found with him?

The house had quieted behind them. She pictured Bianca watching them through the window, and Pen and Julian occupying Nathaniel.

She should let Vergil go, but it had been a long time since they had spoken like this, honestly and in confidence. Not since before her marriage, now that she thought about it. Not since the day when he had asked her if she truly wanted the man who asked for her hand.

The memory of that conversation came to her quite vividly. Vergil asked the same question in five different ways, as if he thought she did not understand it. He explained in detail how the family finances were much improved and there was no need to marry at all her first season, let alone grab the first proposal.

“Vergil, did you think it odd that I accepted Philip?”

He considered the question. Or else he considered whether to answer it at all. “A little. He was a good man, from a good family, but very sedate. You were brighter than he. Smarter, and far more spirited. I concluded his solidity appealed to you after all the disasters we had been through. Also, he could give you the unquestioned place in society that had been lost to us.”

“Did you believe he loved me?”

His gaze pierced her. A subtle frown creased his brow.

“He did not speak of it to me, Charl. Not beyond expressing his high esteem of you, and his affections.” He glanced to the house. Nathaniel’s blond head was visible through the window. “Let me say, however, that such love manifests itself in many different ways. It is as varied as human nature. It is like music, I think. Some is loud and full of contrast and drama, but the simpler melodies still are meaningful.”

It was sweet of him to try to help her reconcile how the current loud drama confused the memory of the quiet melody. He did not know that she suspected Philip had known deafening music himself, just with someone else.

She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Bianca must grow impatient. We should all depart, and give Pen her privacy.”