After Lottie washed and took a few bites of a cold bun, Valentina helped her change into a cream blouse and sober black skirt. The sartorial frivolity she indulged in while in Italy had no place in this house. As she headed for Uncle Alfred’s suite, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was heading into a gauntlet armed only with questions.
It was still early enough to hope that Mr. Wetherby hadn’t arrived yet, but as soon as she entered the suite’s sitting room, her heart sank. The man stood as dour and rigid as ever, talking with the nurse. He glanced at Lottie and immediately lowered his voice.
He murmured a few more words then turned to her. “Miss Carlisle.” He flashed her a tight smile. “How did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you. Good morning, Mrs. Ragmoore.”
“Morning, Miss Carlisle,” she said warmly. “Your uncle’s been asking for you already.”
Lottie’s chest loosened with relief. “I’ll go in.” Mr. Wetherby stood firmly in place, watching her with his usual severity. She felt his heavy gaze on her as she opened the bedroom door. Unlike yesterday, the room was filled with soft sunlight. And there was Uncle Alfred, sitting up in bed, already waiting for her.
He smiled. “Good morning, my dear.” His voice was stronger, but he spoke slowly and the words sounded muffled. As if they had first been doused in honey.
“Good morning, Uncle Alfred.” Lottie shut the door quietly behind her and leaned against the knob, taking him in. “You’re looking more hale today.”
He chuckled and nodded at his shrunken frame. “I’m skin and bones.”
Lottie couldn’t disagree with that, but there was more color on his cheeks and as she drew closer, he watched her with that familiar sharpness. He may be a shadow of his former self in many ways, but his mind was still there. At least for the moment.
Lottie drew a chair close to his bedside and sat down. “I know you must be very angry with me about Italy. And I am so sorry for what’s happened to you.” She paused and glanced back at the door, then leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “But I won’t apologize for leaving Mrs. Wetherby behind in Florence.”
Uncle Alfred still had that fond smile on his face. “She is rather awful,” he acknowledged. “Alec’s cable said he found you in a village near Pistoia. The one your parents visited.”
His congenial tone rendered her momentarily speechless. Was he not going to reprimand her at all? “Yes. I went there directly from Florence.”
“I should have known.”
Lottie bowed her head. “Why did you send him, Uncle?” she asked softly. “It could have been anyone else.”
Uncle Alfred was quiet for so long, Lottie didn’t think he would answer. “I didn’t think you would agree to go with anyone else,” he finally said. “And I’m not sure I trusted anyone else with you, either.” The words, and what they truly meant, stung. “No, it had to be him.”
Lottie’s eyes began to prickle, but she met his gaze anyway. “I wish it hadn’t,” she whispered.
He gave her a sympathetic look she couldn’t bear. Uncle Alfred, still able to see straight into her very soul. Even now. “He stayed behind in Venice?”
Lottie nodded. “We—we did not part on good terms.”
“That is probably for the best,” he sighed. Another long moment passed as a shadow clouded Uncle Alfred’s face. Lottie knew he wasn’t supposed to exert himself, but she was determined to have answers.
“I know about his parents,” she began. “That his mother was married to another man. A count.”
He immediately turned to her with a wariness she had never seen before. “Oh?”
She leveled her gaze. Of course he would not make this easy. “Did she really give up Alec?”
“She had no choice,” he muttered.
Lottie furrowed her brow, but before she could prod further, Uncle Alfred continued: “Her husband was the worst sort of scoundrel. Nearly twenty years older. Involved in all sorts of political intrigues. Had more mistresses than anyone could count. But he was a charming old devil, and their marriage forged an alliance between two very old families. They fought often, though. Maria was always leaving and coming back. Until she met Edward. The count was actually glad at the time, as he had a new mistress of his own.” His voice grew stronger as he spoke, and his words came out faster, but he still kept his eyes fixed elsewhere, as if channeling the spirit of decades past. “Edward kept her occupied. Happy. He didn’t even mind about the child, as long as they didn’t parade him about too much.”
“How—how do you know all this?”
He faced her. “Because I was there. In Venice.”
There was no need to explain why.
Lottie’s stomach turned. “But, if the count didn’t care…”
“She began to inform on her husband.”
Lottie swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. Uncle Alfred and his wretched business once again. A family hideously torn apart, the parents dead, and their son wrecked for life, all for what?
“We almost had him, too,” he groused, as if that were the real tragedy. “So many damned times.” Uncle Alfred’s left hand clenched the bedsheet. “But the bastard always managed to slip away. Then, somehow, he found out about his wife and threatened to have Edward thrown in jail unless she came back to him permanently. So she made a bargain. Her life for his. Not that it mattered in the end,” he added bitterly. “When Edward was with her, he could keep the darkness at bay, but once she was gone he succumbed to it completely.”
“Did you not tell him the truth?”
He looked scandalized. “That would have put everything at risk. No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do that. Edward should have been stronger. Like his wife.”
Lottie took a few deep breaths until she could speak without shouting. “What happened to Alec after his death?”
“The count drew the line at allowing his wife’s bastard son to live under his roof. None of Edward’s family knew who she really was. They thought the idea of Edward marrying a common Italian was a disgrace; they never would have taken him in if they’d known the truth. So he was shuttled around to some of Maria’s distant relatives for a while. Then the contessa finally wrote, begging that I watch over him.” He paused, lost in his memories. “She must have been quite desperate to send him to me. But I suppose I owed her that.” He trailed off.
Lottie managed to hold back her vitriol, for there was still more she needed to know. “But why—why did you never tell him the truth?”
“She thought it would be harder if he knew, especially while she was still alive. And I agreed. Neither of us expected the count to outlive her.”
A pit formed in her stomach. “You forget, Uncle, that when you finally told Alec the truth, you didn’t tell him everything. He thinks she did not love him. That she chose to leave. It’s been torturing him all these years.”
Uncle Alfred shook his head. His expression turned foggy. “No. I—I told him it wasn’t her choice.” But he didn’t sound at all sure.
“No, you didn’t,” she protested. “You only told him enough to make him leave. To make him think that he could never have me.”
Uncle Alfred turned to her then. She was furious with him, but the shock in his face still pained her. “I did. You’re right.” Then he looked away again. An old man now paying for his sins.
“What really happened that morning after my ball?”
“I knew,” he began, still not meeting her eyes. “I knew as soon as he showed his face. I thought I had more time. That you would forget all about him during the season. How could you not? He had no money. No family. No real prospects.”
“That’s not true,” Lottie cut in.
That old familiar fire blazed in his eyes. “Was I supposed to stand aside and let you become a professor’s wife?”
“Yes,” she whispered, but he had already turned away again.
“He came to see you the next morning, and he was so determined. So certain. Just like his father had been, the fool. But this was different. Even if I hadn’t needed his service, you weren’t the contessa. You still had everything to lose. How could I live with myself if I let you marry him, when I alone knew the truth of what he was? So I used what I had. He asked for my consent, and I refused. When he asked why, I told him.”
“Was that all?” Her voice wobbled.
He gave her a look. Of course it wasn’t. “I may also have intimated that if my wishes were not observed, word would get out about his parents, about him. The scandal would ruin you both and you would come to resent him for it.”
Lottie’s throat tightened. “Oh, Uncle Alfred…”
“He could have fought me on it, Lottie. If he had truly wanted you, he would have found a way.”
Lottie blinked in disbelief. “How? You threatened to expose him. To ruin his father’s legacy. Don’t you see? You had all the power and Alec had none.”
Uncle Alfred stubbornly shook his head. “Love means stopping at nothing. But his mother gave up. So did his father. And so did Alec.”
Lottie stood. “You don’t know anything about love. All you’ve ever known is war. But love…love is sacrifice. Love is putting someone else above your own wants. Alec’s mother understood that.”
Uncle Alfred made no response, lost in his memories once again.
“I must tell him. He must know the truth.” A panicked feeling suddenly came over her. “Then he might—he might—”
Come here. For me.
Uncle Alfred swung his head toward her. He seemed to read her thoughts. “No.” He reached over and rang a small bell. “The vicar is coming this afternoon.”
“What?”
“I need to know you are taken care of. And after Italy, I can’t trust your judgment.” Uncle Alfred’s tone was flat and cold. “I had hoped for someone with a better pedigree, but I’ve run out of time. And Mr. Wetherby has assured me he will do right by you. I’ll make sure you have a small allowance for the duration of your life, but I intend to leave everything else to him.”
At that moment, the would-be groom entered the room accompanied by a large, imposing man Lottie had never seen before. There were laws designed to protect the rights of married women, but Lottie was more interested in avoiding the institution entirely. If it came at the expense of her fortune, so be it.
She looked between them and backed away. “You cannot make me marry him. And especially not when I love someone else!”
Uncle Alfred let out a sigh. “Have you no self-respect, girl? Alec has made his choice. If he wanted you, you wouldn’t be here.”
“But he didn’t know. He never would have agreed to this.”
Mr. Wetherby decided to cut in. “He was informed of these plans,” he said dryly. “He knew what would happen upon your return.”
Lottie turned to him with wild eyes. “You’re lying.”
Mr. Wetherby raised his brows, startled by her outburst, but did not answer. Instead, he looked helplessly at Uncle Alfred.
“Now, Lottie. No need for such dramatics.” It was the smooth tone he had used all through her childhood. You are being a silly, willful girl. “Think of it as a sacrifice, if it helps. I know it helped his mother.”
The large man advanced on her and dragged her from the room. A cry rose in her throat. There was no way out of this. And, whether he knew or not, Alec had led her here. Her panic increased to a fever pitch, and she didn’t notice the cloth in his hand until it was placed over her nose as she gasped for breath. Mr. Wetherby caught her shoulders as she began to crumple to the floor.
Lottie came round on her bed as Mr. Wetherby waved a vial under her nose. The feel of his arm around her shoulders made the bile again rise in her throat. She shoved him away.
“What did he give me?”
Mr. Wetherby tried to mask his graceless stumble by straightening his jacket. “A mild anesthetic to calm you. How do you feel?”
Lottie shot him a glare. “Like I was drugged.”
“I’m sorry you found out like this,” he said with a decent amount of guilt. “I wanted to tell you last night.”
“As if that would have been any better.” She turned away from him. “Leave me alone.”
“If that is what you want,” he said and moved toward the door.
The words filled her with anger. Nothing about this was what she wanted. Lottie bolted from the bed. “Have you no shame, sir?”
He faced her fully. “I certainly don’t wish to force you, Miss Carlisle. But it is a well-known fact that women are not capable of making logically sound decisions, especially when it comes to marriage.”
“That is hardly a fact based on science.”
He looked quite put upon. “I don’t mean to insult you. Or your intelligence, of which I have the utmost respect.” Lottie let out a sizable snort, which he ignored. “But your actions have been thoroughly reckless as of late. If nothing else, think of your fortune—”
“Yes, I’m sure that is of great concern to you,” she snapped.
A flush crested his cheeks, but his eyes remained hard. “My father was bankrupt when I was a boy, you know. Being poor is a tedious business. I intend to avoid it at all costs. And I’ve three younger sisters who, unlike you, pray for the safety of marriage.”
Lottie’s chest pinched with guilt. All her life she had enjoyed a certain amount of freedom others would die for. Yet she saw only barriers, not the walls that shielded her from the worst consequences of her own behavior. And all thanks to a fortune she had done nothing to earn. “Let me sponsor them, then. If you give up this plan now, I will finance a season for each one.”
He uttered a dark laugh. “What good would that do from a ruined woman? If you are so moved to help them, you would do much better as their sister-in-law.”
Lottie crossed her arms. “It won’t matter anyway. No clergyman in the world would agree to this!”
“You’re right,” he said coolly. “That means you have a choice to make.”
The certainty in his voice set her even more on edge. “What choice?”
“You can marry me, or you can be institutionalized.”
Lottie’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t.”
“There are many women who have done far less than you—and paid for it for the rest of their lives.”
Lottie couldn’t hold back her shudder. He was only trying to scare her. “Uncle Alfred would never agree to that.” Maybe in his most desperate moment he would have considered such a threat, but certainly not now. She would rather take that chance than willingly submit to this man for the rest of her life.
Mr. Wetherby took a step closer. His blue eyes practically glowed with malice. “I can persuade him. Believe me. And I know my aunt would be happy to testify to your reprehensible behavior.”
“Not if I ended up in an asylum!”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you willing to test that theory?”
Lottie was silent as her heart pounded in her ears.
Mr. Wetherby shook his head. “You are not seeing things clearly right now. But I will promise to be a good, honorable husband. And that is more than most men would do for you.”
Lottie swallowed. “What of my love?”
Mr. Wetherby scowled at the word. “I have never been a sentimental man, Miss Carlisle. I understand that you have an…attachment to Mr. Gresham because of your shared past. But it will fade in time. Especially given that he hasn’t returned the sentiment.”
Lottie flinched. “You may be right about that.” When he appeared to relax a little, she continued, “But you must also recognize that the human heart is not ruled by logic alone. Even if my feelings for him are based on the past more than the present, even if they are not mutual, they are feelings all the same. And, I must tell you, I acted on them. We both did.”
Mr. Wetherby watched her. “I see.”
Lottie let out a little sigh of relief. Finally, this madness would be stopped.
“Thank you for your honesty,” he said tersely, then stepped toward her. “But you should call me Gordon. At least when we’re in private.”
Lottie tried to back away but came up against the bed. “You—you can’t still wish to marry now,” she sputtered.
He stopped mere inches from her person and his mouth curved into something close to a smile. “You do realize I agreed to marry you even when we thought you had run off with an Italian.”
Lottie couldn’t manage more than a dazed shake of her head.
He then leaned in so close that his pungent aftershave tickled her nose. “It’s a bit of a relief, actually,” he drawled. “Now I won’t have to be gentle with you tonight.” He reached out and cupped the back of her neck. Though his grasp was firm, he stroked her hair with surprising softness.
“You horrible man,” she whispered.
“I will be whatever kind of man you wish, Lottie. If you want a brute, so be it.” Then he pressed his mouth to hers in a hard kiss. Gordon Wetherby was no mere toady. He was as calculating as Uncle Alfred, and in less than an hour he would have control over her fortune, her person, her entire life. She pressed her hands against his chest, prepared to push him away, but then an idea sprung forth. And she had just one chance to enact it.
She fought down her revulsion and began to move her trembling hands in slow strokes. Gordon had a rather muscular chest—not that she ever planned to see him shirtless. He immediately pulled back, surprised and panting hard. Lottie could now recognize the signs of desire in a man. He wanted her. Badly. And she would use that to her advantage.
Lottie took a deep breath and silently prayed that she could pull this off. “I…I had no idea you were so passionate,” she said in a breathy voice.
He inhaled slowly and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’ve long had a passion for you, Lottie. And unlike that bastard, I will not walk away from this. Ever.”
Lottie managed to flash him a coy smile at the unsettling words and continued to stroke his chest. “And yet you claim to not be sentimental.”
He actually blushed.
“But if we are to do this,” Lottie began in her most simpering tone, “may I make a request?”
Gordon gave a dazed nod as if he were truly enchanted by her.
“This is my only chance to have a wedding. A week wouldn’t make much of a difference. And it would give us more time to get to know one another.” She pressed her cheek against his, and he shivered. “Don’t you want your family there? Your dear aunt?” Thank God he couldn’t see her grimace at the words.
Gordon sighed and wrapped an arm around her waist. “No, my darling. Given your uncle’s state, we shouldn’t delay.” He actually sounded remorseful as he pulled back. “I am sorry you can’t have a proper wedding.” His gaze then fell on her lips and grew hot once more. “But I don’t think I can wait a week to have you. Not now.” He bent to take her mouth in another hungry kiss, but this time Lottie pushed him away and stalked to the other side of the room.
“Leave me, then.”
He began to walk toward her but stopped at her sharp look.
“If you won’t give me a week, at least give me an hour.”
His eyes hardened once again. “You always did want more than you deserved. Very well. But you will pay for it later.” Then he spun on his heel and left.
The click of the lock echoed through the room.