Chapter Thirty

The ball was everything Charlotte had expected, and it was also everything unexpected.

She met so many people that she wouldn’t possibly remember their names come morning, but rather than being standoffish and cold toward her, as she had expected them to be, they had been warm and welcoming. There were a few that were less than pleased that she was the new countess of Ashland, but she brushed off their displeasure and frowns.

Sarah and her parents were there, and that helped Charlotte’s anxiety. Her uncle and his wife were there, too, and they made sure she was well received and well treated. Charlotte had no idea she had so many allies in English Society. For most of her life she had thought the sun rose and set on her parents’ tiny cottage in the country, and then, while living with her aunt, she had been told so many hateful, hurtful things about her parents that she began to think that there was no good left in this world.

It turned out she had just been looking in the wrong place.

Occasionally she would think of O’Leary and his mission tonight, but she chose to believe that finally Edmund would be caught and tomorrow she would wake up to a whole new life, devoid of worry concerning her aunt and cousin.

Jacob had been swiftly taken away from her. For most of the night she had been on her own, but not alone. Armbruster’s mother introduced her to the “most important people.” And when she’d been called away, either her aunt or Sarah had been at her side.

And now Charlotte and Jacob were in their hired coach, on their way home.

“Tired?” Jacob asked, his own voice weary.

“Very.” She snuggled into his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. A sigh of contentment escaped her. How had it become so easy for her to be so comfortable in her husband’s arms?

“I can’t wait to fall into bed and sleep until at least tea time,” Jacob said, covering his own yawn. “What did you think of the ball?”

“I didn’t find it all that bad,” Charlotte admitted. “I was prepared to hate it.”

“I would agree. It’s definitely not something I want to do every night, but every now and then wouldn’t be too bad. I met some men who will be very helpful as I take the reins of the earldom. Did you meet anyone?”

“I met so many people, but I couldn’t tell you their names. Lady Armbruster was very generous to host this ball for us.” Charlotte was having such a difficult time keeping her eyes open, and her brain was screaming to shut down and go to sleep.

“Lady Armbruster thrives on hosting balls. It was generous, yes, but she enjoyed doing it.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte couldn’t keep her eyes open one moment longer, and she felt Jacob chuckle as he hugged her to him “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

She felt him kiss the top of her head, and as she drifted away she smiled and thought she heard, “I love you, Charlotte.” But she was probably dreaming that.

The next thing she knew he was gently shaking her awake.

“We’re home. Time to get you to bed.”

She muttered something and practically stumbled out of the carriage.

“Go on up,” Jacob said. “I will pay the driver.”

Charlotte glanced at the carriage. The driver was hunched over the hoof of one of the horses, inspecting the shoe.

“Seems he might have thrown a shoe,” Jacob said.

Charlotte wearily climbed the steps to the townhouse, suddenly sad that they were going to vacate it soon. The house in Hyde Park was ready for them to move in, and there wasn’t much besides Jacob’s law books and their clothes that they would take with them as the Hyde Park house was fully furnished.

At first, Mrs. Smith had been flustered that they were moving, but Jacob had taken her to the new house and had shown her the kitchen she would be in charge of and her new set of rooms, and Mrs. Smith had suddenly been quite pleased.

Charlotte opened the front door and trudged up the stairs toward Jacob’s bedchamber. The house was quiet. They had told Mrs. Smith not to wait up for them as they’d been unsure how late they would be.

Her feet and back ached from standing all night, and her mouth was dry from so much talking. But all in all, she felt it had been a satisfactory evening, and many of the women had promised to call on her as soon as she was settled in her new home. She looked forward to accepting callers in Hyde Park.

She entered the darkened bedchamber.

The smell hit her first, and she frowned.

It smelled earthy. Like a newly turned garden.

She fumbled in the dark for the light and lit it. The dancing flame created shadows that jumped around the room, but otherwise nothing seemed disturbed. Maybe Mrs. Smith had left a window open, and she smelled the newly turned earth of the back garden. With a sigh, Charlotte kicked off her shoes and pulled the wilting flower from her hair, twisting it between her fingers as she glanced at the bed and froze.

There was an odd lump of something black and glistening. She approached slowly, dropping the flower as she pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. It was a cat.

A dead cat.

Its throat cut and blood oozing from it, soaking into the bed.

She turned around to run out of the room as a tall shape emerged from the corner, and suddenly Edmund was standing before her.

“What are you doing here?” But she knew. They’d been so stupid, believing that they could stop Edmund.

“She wouldn’t stop talking.” He held a knife in his hand, the metal gleaming in the candlelight.

Charlotte frowned? “She?” Was he referring to the cat? No, that didn’t make sense.

“Mother. She wouldn’t stop talking. On and on she went about you. That’s all she talked about was you. Charlotte this and Charlotte that.” His voice rose to imitate the pitch of a woman.

Charlotte swallowed. “She’s a horrible woman, Edmund. She’s not nice at all.”

“Don’t say that about my mother.”

She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

He took a step forward.

“She’s dead now.”

Charlotte’s blood ran cold, and her head swam. No. No, no, no, no.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

“I killed her.”

“Edmund…” Her tongue was suddenly stuck to the roof of her mouth, and fear immobilized her. Jacob. She needed to get to Jacob. She needed to warn Jacob.

But Edmund was in her way, and she couldn’t get past him.

“You’re right. She wasn’t nice,” he said. “She was horrid.”

“Yes, she was.” Charlotte grabbed onto that like the lifeline it was. “We can tell the police. I can go with you and tell them what a horrible person she was. She deserved to die. She was mean to you.”

What had happened when O’Leary and his men arrived at the house? Had Edmund panicked and killed Aunt Martha? But he said she wouldn’t stop talking. Had he killed her before they even got there?

“She was mean. She called me names all the time.”

This was the longest conversation Charlotte had ever had with Edmund, and she felt like she was talking to a child. It was as if he were in a trance, and his eyes were blank, like they’d been the day he’d destroyed her doll.

“I can help you,” she said softly.

He seemed to think about that. “No. You must die, too.”

Fear battered her rib cage, and she could barely breathe. “Please, Edmund. We can find a way out of this.”

He was shaking his head as he moved toward her. Charlotte backed up, farther away from the door. He was going to back her into a corner if she didn’t do something.

Where is Jacob?

Where was Mrs. Smith? Edmund better not have hurt her.

With a wild scream, hoping to alert Jacob, Charlotte charged toward Edmund, lifting her skirts as she ran.

For a moment he stared at her with that blank look, and she tried to veer to the left side of him, away from the hand holding the knife. But he caught her, raised the knife, and plunged it toward her.

…

“Threw a shoe,” the hansom cab driver said when Jacob approached.

“Do you need help?” Jacob didn’t know the first thing about shoeing a horse, but he thought he should at least offer his assistance.

“Nah.” The driver straightened and brushed his hands on his trousers.

“Well, thank you for the ride.” Jacob handed him a few coins more than the cab fare to hopefully offset the cost of a new shoe.

The man nodded and tipped his cap to him. “My thanks, m’lord.” He jumped up into the box, and the carriage rumbled down the quiet street.

Jacob tiredly pulled himself up the steps to the front door. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, tug Charlotte close, and fall asleep. The ball had been more exhausting than he’d thought, but he was pleased with the results. He’d met some important men. Men who would be good allies as he navigated the waters of this earldom. And it pleased him immensely that Charlotte had made friends, thanks to Lady Armbruster and Lady Chadley.

As time went on, he was becoming more and more accustomed to his new station in life. With his solicitor’s background and his new title, maybe he could make some real changes in this world. Maybe he could help clean up the rookeries or create more desirable jobs and opportunities for those who felt hopeless.

The possibilities were endless, and he looked forward to working with Charlotte to see his ideas become reality.

The thought of creating a new life with Charlotte, one he’d never envisioned a month ago, gave him a sense of worth and accomplishment like he’d never felt before. He’d loved his career as a solicitor, but he was beginning to realize that maybe his life was meant for more than that and he should embrace the change, instead of fighting it.

“Ashland!”

Jacob turned to find O’Leary jogging toward him, breathless, disheveled.

“She’s dead,” O’Leary said, stopping before him.

“Who’s dead?”

“Lady Morris. He killed her, and he’s missing. We can’t find Edmund. We’ve been looking all night. I sent a man here to watch your house.” Both O’Leary and Jacob looked around but didn’t see anyone else.

“Charlotte.” Both men pushed through the front door and raced up the steps.

He heard a thud from above, then heard her cry out, followed by another thud.

Jacob ran up the rest of the steps, followed closely by O’Leary, pulling his pistol from his pocket as he ran. He burst through their bedroom door to find Charlotte racing toward him, but there was a man in the way. A rather large, tall man, swinging a knife toward Charlotte.

Edmund.

Jacob lifted the pistol and aimed, but he knew he didn’t have time to get off a shot, and it could possibly hit Charlotte instead of Edmund.

Jacob threw himself forward, pushing Charlotte out of the way as the knife arced down. He tried to twist out of the way, but the knife sliced through his new formalwear and ripped through his left side. Hot pain shot through him. As he fell he pushed Edmund with all of his might.

Edmund tumbled to the ground but was instantly lumbering to his feet as Jacob searched for the pistol he had dropped. His entire left side felt as if it was on fire, and he couldn’t move his arm or his leg. He tried to roll, to search for the pistol. Edmund was already on his feet, the knife still in his hands as he advanced on Charlotte.

Where the hell was O’Leary?

On hands and knees, Charlotte scrambled for the gun a few feet away. She picked it up, clutching it with both hands as she aimed at Edmund.

“Squeeze,” Jacob said. “The trigger. Squeeze.”

She closed her eyes, grit her teeth, and braced her body. The bang was loud. Edmund grunted, looked at Charlotte in surprise, and put a hand to the gaping hole in his chest before he sank slowly to his knees, listed to the side, and collapsed.

Charlotte dropped the pistol and crawled to Jacob.

O’Leary finally entered, his own pistol drawn, and he looked at the wreckage before him. Jacob realized that while it had seemed like long minutes from the time he entered the room, it had really only been seconds.

He was beginning to go numb on his left side and knew that couldn’t be good. Blood poured from a long gash across his torso, turning his once pristine white shirt a deep scarlet.

O’Leary checked Edmund’s chest for a beating heart and shook his head.

Edmund was staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

Jacob dropped his head to the ground, and the room spun. He could feel the warmth of his blood pooling beneath him and figured he didn’t have much time left before he lost consciousness.

“I’ll get help,” O’Leary said, and raced out of the room.

Charlotte lifted Jacob’s head and put it in her lap. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Charlotte.” He tried to grab her hand, but his felt so heavy, and he could barely move it.

Charlotte grabbed it for him and held tight, but to his frustration his fingers wouldn’t wrap around hers. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to sleep next to her.

Damn it, this isn’t the way he wanted it to end.

“You stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me. Do you hear me, Jacob?”

“I’ll…try.”

He’d just begun to believe that he could be happy again, that there was life beyond the deep grief that he’d been living with for so long. To have it all end before it began angered him.

Charlotte didn’t deserve grief or loss. She’d had far too much in her life already. Damn it. He wanted to live. To create a life with Charlotte.

Charlotte trained her eyes on him, smoothing his hair back with her hand. She tried to smile, too, but it also failed. There was so much he wanted to say. A lifetime of words silenced too soon.

“O’Leary will get the doctor, and everything will be fine.”

“Charlotte. Listen…to me.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t say it. I won’t lose you.”

He tried to tighten his hold on her hand but didn’t know if he succeeded. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

“I love…you.” He let out a half laugh that ended in a groan and licked dry lips. “I should have…said it sooner… Never thought…I’d love a lady…dressed as a lad.”

Tears were dripping from her eyes, making dark splotches on her blue gown. “You can’t leave me now. Not yet. We have a house to move into and…” She sobbed, her chin quivering. “And a whole life in front of us. I was a fool to think America would be better than you. Jacob, I love you so much.”

“Listen. Hear me. You can be the D-Dowager—”

“No.” She shook her head, letting loose more tears.

“Countess…of Ashland.”

“Stop it. Don’t even say it.”

“Use the title…to do good.”

Her body was shaking with sobs as she leaned over to press a kiss against his forehead. “I love you,” she whispered.