Lady's Wager (9 page)

“He was certainly more agreeable than during our previous
meetings,” Charlotte answered with reserve, trying to discourage further
speculation.

After exchanging knowing glances, Lady Redding and Aunt Mary
fell into silence as the exhaustion of the evening settled over them.

Charlotte was hardly aware of the rocking carriage or the
noise of the equipage as they made for home. Against the palm of her hand she
could still perceive the pressure of Lord Woodcliff’s fingers, see his stunning
blue eyes admiring her from beneath his brows as he’d bowed to offer his
goodbye. Every confidence they’d shared tonight had lingered in the subtle
pause between them before she’d reluctantly slipped her hand from his and
turned to leave.

She hadn’t wanted to go, but to stay beside him dancing and
talking, experiencing for the first time what it was like to be at ease in London
society. The desire troubled her as much as the regard for him building inside
her. She’d spoken this openly to the Comte once, seeking him out at each ball
or salon, thinking they shared an understanding of one another which she’d
always craved. In the end they hadn’t and she worried Lord Woodcliff would cause
her to regret the intimacy of their conversation too. Some small part of her
longed for his condescending demeanor to make him less attractive, but even his
haughtiness had contained purpose and she could scarcely fault him for it.
Instead she understood his pain because it was the same as hers.

She fluffed her gown over her
knees, attempting to shake off such morose thoughts. Tonight was but one
encounter with Lord Woodcliff, not the many which had made up her relationship
with the Comte. To read more into it was ridiculous and all she needed to do
was be cautious with Lord Woodcliff in the future. It would prevent her from
raising her hopes and risking her heart again. She settled back against the
squabs as the carriage rattled through the dark streets, her mind filled with
memories of the evening and the hope of seeing Lord Woodcliff again.

*****

Edward and George stepped out of
Almack’s into their waiting carriage. As it set off down the street, Edward
congratulated himself on his victory with Miss Stuart. He’d behaved just as
he’d intended, his tongue never betraying him, his nerves never getting the
best of him. He’d avoided topics which had tripped them up in the past,
including his mother’s painting, her openness with him suggesting there would
be another time and place in which to discuss it. She’d responded to him with a
sweetness he’d barely imagined possible during his ride this morning. It wasn’t
just friendship she’d offered but understanding, sharing with him her pain over
losing her parents and recognizing how much his mother’s loss had affected him.
They hadn’t fought or disagreed, but been pleasant and honest with one another
in a way he’d never experienced with a woman before.

“I’m glad to see you’ve overcome your difficulties with
Miss Stuart,” George took a snort of snuff from a silver snuffbox.

“Was it Lady Redding who told you I was having trouble
with the lady?” Edward laughed, his mood far too elevated to be put off by his
father’s inquiry. “Did she convince you to come to London?”

He snapped the snuff box lid closed and tucked it in his
coat pocket. “I don’t reveal the source of my gossip. Makes things awkward.”

“All right but I know you and Lady Redding are plotting
against me.”

“If you weren’t so pigheaded, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“On such a point, I must agree,” Edward said before both
men settled into their own thoughts.

Edward smiled to himself as he realized he now owed Henry
ten pounds. It was worth it to have Miss Stuart look at him kindly, to hear her
laugh at his jokes, debate him on art, discuss a multitude of subjects with no
false airs, no plotting or scheming to secure his title or fortune. She took
him as he was and presented herself honestly which was everything he wanted in
a potential wife. A number of times he’d caught her examining him with more
than just a passing interest and it gave him hope in his ability to win her
heart.

He rested his head against the back of the carriage,
closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine a future with Miss Stuart. He
pictured them wandering again through the Royal Academy, this time arm in arm.
He imagined a carriage ride across the Italian countryside on their way to Rome
to see the ruins, or perhaps through Paris after the war. Then someday, they’d
stroll through Grossmont Hall, their son’s small hand in hers as she showed him
all of their paintings, including his mother’s. No other woman had ever excited
in him a desire for his future as a husband, or the possibility of such
happiness. It was a far cry from the Edward who’d set out for London wary of
being made miserable by marriage like his father. He’d found a woman he cared
for who genuinely cared for him. It was more than he could have hoped for.

The landau jostled to a stop outside St. Dunstan’s
Charitable Hospital, jerking Charlotte from her thoughts. She breathed a sigh
of relief as she took in the hospital’s massive stone façade dotted with even
rows of windows, thankful to have something besides Lord Woodcliff to occupy
her mind. It’d been three days since the ball at Almack’s and not a moment had
passed without her thinking of him or longing for his voice to sooth her like
the steady rumble of waves along the ocean shore. Except she hadn’t seen him,
or heard his voice because he had yet to call.

“Mrs. Stuart, Miss Stuart, Miss Knight welcome,” Dr.
Walter called as he hurried out to greet them. “I see you brought the books you
promised.”

Charlotte handed Dr. Walter the books as she descended
from the vehicle, trying not to let her worry over Lord Woodcliff intrude on
the visit. “Mr. Haden’s book is well recommended and many of his ideas
regarding fever are revolutionary.”

“Indeed, thank you. Welcome, Miss Knight.” Dr. Walter
offered Elizabeth his hand as she stepped out of the landau. “I’m glad you
could finally visit our humble establishment.”

“You’re too kind, Dr. Walter. I feel guilty for not coming
sooner.”

“You’re here now which is all that matters. Please,
everyone follow me, we have a great deal to discuss. I have the most amazing
news but I won’t tell you until we’re inside,” he exclaimed, ushering the
ladies in through the large wooden doors of the main hospital building.

They followed Dr. Walter down a short hallway, past the
open door of the men’s ward, where Elizabeth paused, wide-eyed at the scene
before her. Charlotte approached her friend, taking her hand as they both
surveyed the long, rectangular room. Wooden beds stood in even rows the length
of the ward, each occupied by a man in various stages of illness. The sickest
ones tossed feverishly or moaned in pain, while others slept or watched the
doctors attend patients and the dressers change bandages. Sunlight poured in
through the large glass windows but the light did little to purify the air or
cut through the overwhelming malaise.

“I didn’t realize how bad it might be,” Elizabeth
murmured, covering her nose with her handkerchief.

“That’s why they need our help. Come along, we have work
to do.” Charlotte gently guided Elizabeth back to the hallway.

“You’re so brave Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied faintly,
her fair cheeks paler than usual.

“I’m not brave, just far more accustomed to it than you
are.”

“Not to worry,” Aunt Mary smiled taking Elizabeth’s other
arm. “Keep your handkerchief over your nose and take deep breaths.”

Elizabeth followed Aunt Mary’s instructions until they
finally reached Dr. Walter’s simple but well-appointed office at the end of the
hallway. Inside, the sweet smell of tea and lemon cake drove away the air of
sickness outside the door.

Mrs. Walter hurried forward to help guide a very faint
Elizabeth into one of the chintz chairs surrounding the tea table. “Are you all
right?”

“I’m sorry for being so silly. I’m quite fine, really I
am,” Elizabeth weakly protested as she fanned herself.

Mrs. Walter smiled as she handed Elizabeth a cup of tea.
“Nonsense, I was also faint the first few times but once you’re used to it,
you’ll be stronger for it.”

Charlotte sat in the chair next to Elizabeth, relieved her
friend hadn’t passed out in the hall. “Now, Dr. Walter, you must tell us your
news.”

Dr. Walter joined them in the remaining chair, waving away
his wife’s offer of tea with a nervous, excited gesture. “Just this morning the
hospital received a generous donation of two thousand pounds.”

“From whom?” Charlotte gasped and Dr. Walter shrugged.

“I don’t know. A solicitor arrived with instructions from
his employer to make an anonymous donation. He asked how much the hospital
needed to complete the charity wing. I told him and he immediately produced the
exact amount. I tried to find out the identity of our generous patron but the solicitor
refused to reveal it.”

“And you have no clues?” Elizabeth asked.

Dr. Walter shrugged again. “He said his employer directed
him only to say his generosity was due to Miss Stuart. Then he left.”

Everyone turned to Charlotte who stared back at them in
stunned silence.

“Who do you think it is?” Aunt Mary asked, eager to fill
in the holes in this intriguing tale.

“I don’t know. Lord Woodcliff introduced me to many people
at Almack’s but none seemed as generous as this.”

“Perhaps it was Lord Woodcliff. He seems to fancy you,” Elizabeth
offered, but Charlotte shook her head at the idea.

“He doesn’t have the means to make such an extravagant
gift and he doesn’t fancy me.”
Or he’d have called on us by now
. It was
only Friday. One could hardly fault Lord Woodcliff for not calling yet, except
she did.

“Perhaps he’s not so devoid of resources as we’ve been led
to believe,” Elizabeth suggested, with a strange, knowing glance.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, it was just a thought,” Elizabeth quickly
disappeared into her teacup.

Charlotte rose and walked to the window, wondering if
Elizabeth might be right. No, it was impossible. Almost everyone she’d heard
speak of him said his circumstances were strained, but still the idea nagged at
her.

“Perhaps the donor was Lord Veness?” Charlotte offered but
Dr. Walter shook his head.

“Lord Veness’s solicitor visited yesterday with a donation
of considerable size, as did a number of other solicitors employed by well-known
gentlemen and ladies.”

“Then I’m afraid this donor isn’t anyone I met at
Almack’s.” Charlotte bit the nail of her thumb, scouring her mind for some clue
to help her solve this mystery.

“If the donor wishes to remain anonymous then we should
thank him by honoring his request,” Dr. Walter suggested.

“I agree and with the funds in place, we can proceed with
the improvements.”

“I dare say Charlotte, with the money raised, you’ll need
a new project,” Aunt Mary laughed good-naturedly.

Charlotte offered her a wan smile, catching the meaning of
her aunt’s comment, but she wasn’t about to put too much faith in Lord
Woodcliff occupying her time, especially since he still hadn’t called.
Disappointment dampened her excitement. Over the last few days, despite her best
efforts to hold down her hopes, they’d risen and now they were slowly being
eroded. Why hadn’t he called?

“Perhaps you can help me find a suitable architect for the
hospital,” Dr. Walter offered, misunderstanding Aunt Mary’s meaning much to her
visible displeasure.

“I’ve heard Mr. Nash is the best,” Elizabeth volunteered.
“I’ll speak to Lord Ashford about inquiring after his services.”

“Mr. Nash is far too busy with Carlton House to take time
for a charity hospital but perhaps Lord Ashford can suggest another suitable
candidate,” Charlotte responded as she took her seat at the table, ready to
forget Lord Woodcliff and focus on this new task.

“I’ve drawn up my suggestions for improvements.” Dr.
Walter went to his desk, rolled back the top and selected a piece of paper from
the clutter inside. He handed it to Charlotte, then stood over her chair as she
reviewed it. “We must install larger windows to increase air circulation and
provide partitions between the beds. I’d also like to hire more staff. My recommendations
are based on the improvements made at Middlesex Hospital, which greatly
benefited the hospital’s general condition. I’ve also added your suggestion of
gaslights.”

“Wonderful.” She handed the plan back to the doctor.

He returned it to his desk then sat down next to her.
“There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you. It’s a delicate one but
important. I believe a maternity hospital, similar to the General Lying-In
Hospital but much smaller in scale is necessary for this section of London. It
would be a great help to poor mothers, especially servant girls who’ve been led
astray and have nowhere else to go.”

Aunt Mary set down her teacup with a noticeable rattle.
“Dr. Walter, such conversation isn’t suitable for unwed ladies.”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Stuart. Since Miss Stuart is very familiar
with all aspects of hospitals, delicate and otherwise, I didn’t think it
improper.”

Aunt Mary moved to answer but Charlotte quickly replied.
“It’s quite all right Dr. Walter. I believe we should help these poor, unfortunate
women.”

“Or those abandoned by their husbands,” Mrs. Walter
sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s an all too common occurrence.”

Charlotte shook her head at the terrible thought. “How can
that be when they’ve pledged to love their wives?”

“Sometimes the men fall out of love or they turn to drink
to ease their burdens,” Mrs. Walter explained.

“I can’t believe a husband could be so despicable.”
Charlotte shuddered. If the Comte hadn’t run off with another, she too might
have become a young mother abandoned by the very man who’d once claimed to love
her.

“Don’t be such a dour goose Charlotte,” Aunt Mary clucked.
“Not all men are scoundrels.”

No, they weren’t, but sometimes in the heat of infatuation
it was difficult to tell. She no longer trusted her judgment where love was
concerned. Perhaps it was a good thing Lord Woodcliff hadn’t called.

“The hospital must show these
poor women kindness and charity where their husbands have shown them none,”
Charlotte proclaimed, refusing to allow her own concerns to distract her from
helping others with theirs. “Dr. Walter, I think it’s a wonderful suggestion
and we must begin on the plans at once.”

*****

Long shadows fell across the street as the driver deftly
maneuvered the Stuart’s landau away from St. Dunstan’s.

“John, are we in time for a drive through Hyde Park?” Aunt
Mary asked, much to Charlotte’s surprise.

“Yes, ma’am, we are,” John, a kind but rough-looking man
in his forties, answered.

“Then take us to Rotten Row.”

Elizabeth’s eyes immediately lit up. “Lord Ashford
regularly rides at this hour.”

“Perhaps Lord Woodcliff will be with him,” Aunt Mary
offered and everyone fixed on Charlotte, waiting for her response.

“Many people ride in the park at this hour. We’re sure to
see a number of people we know.” Despite her racing heart, she refused to reveal
anything for fear Elizabeth would tell Lord Ashford who would in turn tell Lord
Woodcliff.

As John turned the landau into Hyde Park and down Rotten
Row, Charlotte tried not to hold her breath in anticipation. It was five
o’clock, the fashionable hour. All around them gentlemen and ladies, dressed in
their best riding clothes paraded through the park astride fine horseflesh in
an attempt to exhibit themselves to their best advantage. Those too old or
unskilled to ride tooled about in their carriages, hoods pushed back to show
off their fine jewelry and fashionable attire.

Normally, Charlotte would laugh at this parade of hopefuls
and snobs but tonight she overlooked them all as she secretly searched the park
for one familiar face. He wasn’t among the crowd and Charlotte began to relax
when suddenly, Elizabeth sat bolt upright and motioned to someone behind the
carriage.

“Here comes Lord Ashford and Lord Woodcliff is with him.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise, much to Aunt Mary’s
visible delight. She quickly tried to recover herself but it was difficult as
Lord Ashford and Lord Woodcliff were immediately upon them.

“Mrs. Stuart, Miss Stuart, Miss Knight,” Lord Ashford
said, bringing his mount up to the left side of the carriage where Elizabeth
sat, blushing quietly.

“Good evening Miss Stuart.”

Charlotte heard the familiar voice beside her and Lord
Woodcliff’s failure to call on her faded beneath his striking presence. He
smiled at her from atop his mount, his handling of the large animal as
impressive as the cut of his figure in his black riding coat. Beneath his dun
colored breeches, his thighs tightened and relaxed as he kept his horse steady
next to her side of the carriage. He appeared as confident in the saddle as any
of the generals on their rearing steeds in the paintings in the Musée Napoleon.

“Lord Woodcliff, do you ride here often?”Aunt Mary asked,
momentarily drawing his attention away from Charlotte.

“Almost every evening, though business has kept me out of London
these last three days, but I’ll ride again at this time tomorrow.”

“Then perhaps we’ll see you tomorrow, for Charlotte also
enjoys a good ride in the evenings.”

Charlotte frowned at her aunt in disbelief, for they both
knew Charlotte was no horsewoman.

“Then I look forward to tomorrow, especially if I may also
call for tea.”

His attention lingered on Charlotte who wished she had a
horse so she could climb in the saddle now and they could ride off together
through the park. Even if she did have a gelding, she doubted they’d get far.
She wasn’t an accomplished rider, though she could always sit with Lord
Woodcliff, his strong arms keeping her steady, his chest pressed against her
back. She could hardly believe she was imagining such a thing, yet she wondered
if there was enough room for her between him and the horse’s neck.

“You’re welcome at any time, Lord Woodcliff,” Aunt Mary
gushed.

Charlotte tried to think of something to say, but even
with Lord Ashford bidding Elizabeth goodbye and both men preparing to leave, no
words came to her.

“Until tomorrow.” Lord Woodcliff tipped his hat to her,
then with a deft flick of the reins and the shift of his high boots in the
stirrups, he rode off with Lord Ashford.

It was all she could do to not to turn and stare out the
back of the landau and watch him until he faded from view. Instead she remained
seated, attempting to ignore the curious looks from Aunt Mary and Elizabeth.