Chapter Seven
Elizabeth Bell, Miss Betsy to most people and Mrs. E. Bottoms to others, arrived at the Hare and Hound shortly after ten in the morning to find the place in an uproar. “Burt”—she grabbed the man’s arm as he rushed by—“what is going on?”
“My girl, my poor Annabelle, has gone missing,” Mrs. Wick, the landlord’s wife cried into a large handkerchief. “It was that man who was here, claiming he was lord, as took her.” She wrung her hands in her apron. “I know he made my poor girl go with him.”
Betsy immediately clasped her hands together, holding them to her chest. “My dear Mrs. Wick, surely she would not have run off. Annabelle is such a good girl.”
“She is at that.” The older woman wiped her eyes and nodded. “He must have knocked her out and took her.” Betsy could see when the idea entered the woman’s head. “Can ye help, miss? I know yer used to working for folks richer than us. We don’t have a lot, but we’ll give ye what we got to get our dear girl back.”
“You do not even need to ask.” She wrapped her arms gently around Mrs. Wick. “You and your family have been such good friends to me, I will do it without compensation.”
“Oh, thank ye, thank ye. I don’t know what we’d do without ye!” She straightened her apron. Pulling out a fresh handkerchief, she blew her nose. “Will ye go right away?”
“Of course. If you will tell me the name of the man who took her and anything you can remember about him, I shall begin the search as soon as I have delivered the lady the Smiths brought in yesterday.” Betsy glanced at Burt. “We’ll leave within the hour.” Turning back to Mrs. Wick, Betsy asked, “Do you think you are well enough to prepare something for the young lady upstairs to eat, and help her clean up?”
“Oh, goodness.” The woman jumped. “I’d forgot all about her. I’ll have her ready directly after I bring you a cup of tea in the parlor. Won’t do for a lady such as yerself to be in the common room. Not even this early in the morn.”
“You are so kind, Mrs. Wick. I thank you.” Betsy smiled at the lady before making her way to the only room in the inn that could pass for a parlor.
It was because the place did not generally cater to gentry that she’d chosen it. What she really wanted to know now was who the gentleman was who took Annabelle and how much he’d pay Betsy to keep the chit. It stood to reason that by the time she found the girl she’d no longer be a virgin.
Several moments later, an ear-piercing scream stabbed the air.
“I’ve found her, I’ve found her!” Mrs. Wick’s shouting could have been heard in the next village.
Well, that was a short-lived deal, Betsy thought sourly.
The landlady ran into the room. “Oh, Miss Betsy, you won’t believe what happened. That wicked young lady, although I don’t know as I should use that term for her after what she did, had a gun and tied my Annabelle up. That Lord Braxton helped her.” Mrs. Wick was wringing her apron again. “He must have been the reason she ran away from her lawful husband.”
Betsy bit down on her lip hard to keep from saying things she shouldn’t. Burt and Dan would have a lot to answer for. Bloody fools letting Lady Charlotte get away after all the planning that had gone into capturing her. And how the devil had she got ahold of a pistol? They’d answer for that as well.
“Please tell both Mr. Smiths I would like to see them.”
“Yes, Miss Betsy. I’ll get them right away.”
She had just drained the cup when Burt knocked on the door and opened it, dragging Dan by the sleeve. For several long moments, she remained where she was, allowing the silence to weigh heavily while the two men fidgeted. Finally, she asked, “How did she get a pistol?”
Burt looked at Dan, then back to her. “She must a had it in her basket.”
Betsy’s back teeth clenched as she tried to control her temper. Losing it here where everyone thought she was a lady would not help. “A basket.” She bit off the end of the word. “Is there a reason you did not look in this basket?”
“I asked,” Dan said, glaring up at Burt. “Asked if she had any food in it.” Dan shrugged off Burt’s hand. “She said she was going to fetch somethin’.”
Betsy focused on Burt. “And it did not occur to you to think she was lying?”
“No, miss. I was busy keeping Dan from trying to get to know her, if you know what I mean.” He glowered at Dan. “I never thought a young lady would have a gun. She was just walking to the other house.”
Well that, she had to admit, made sense. Betsy didn’t think she would have thought of it either. Although, if she were a man, she’d plant both of her employees facers just for losing the chit. And Dan. Bloody hell! Just what she needed, a man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out a sack. “Dan, here is your payment. I will not need you again for a while.”
His jaw dropped, but he grabbed the money and dashed out of the parlor.
“Burt, how do you plan to remedy this problem?” Because she would get Lady Charlotte back. The amount that lord was willing to pay for her made the gentry-mort worth more than Betsy’s last three packages all together.
* * *
The early morning dew had dried when Lord Kenilworth handed Lady Bellamny and Charlotte into her ladyship’s large traveling coach. She could barely stand to have him touch her and was glad for her gloves.
Thinking he would travel with them, she had sat next to Lady Bellamny. Thankfully, his lordship had opted to drive his phaeton instead of riding in the carriage with the ladies.
“I shall put your lack of manners, which I know you possess,” Lady Bellamny said in a caustic tone, “to the horrible experiences of the past day.” Her ladyship looked at Charlotte, making her feel as if she were six again instead of eighteen. “I will expect you to behave correctly to Lady Kenilworth.”
“Yes, ma’am.” After all, his mother had nothing to do with the way he behaved. Not that Charlotte would disobey Lady Bellamny in any event. She had been a friend to Charlotte’s mother and now to Grace and the rest of the family.
“Neither will I have you showing that Friday face to her ladyship. It is her son to whom you are betrothed.” Charlotte tried to paste a polite smile on her lips and failed miserably. “It is my experience that everything always turns out the way it is meant to be.” Lady Bellamny lapsed into silence for a few minutes, but Charlotte did not expect it to last, and she was right. A few moments later, her ladyship continued. “You could do much worse than Kenilworth. He does not gamble or, as far as I know, drink to excess. He has an excellent reputation in the Lords. As a matter of fact, he has worked with Worthington to pass some important bills. I am positive that when you have had an opportunity to rest and reflect on your situation, you will come to the conclusion that you could have done much worse. It is a good match.”
Not if he bought women, it was not. Lady Bellamny’s sharp gaze focused on Charlotte, and she felt compelled to respond. “Yes, my lady.”
Satisfied, Lady Bellamny closed her eyes and dozed, leaving Charlotte to her thoughts.
Mostly she just wanted to go home. She wanted to be with her sister and the children and not have to think about what had happened, or what could have happened, or what might happen.
If only she had not sent her footman, Frank, back to the house for her shooting gloves, he might have been able to fight off the miscreants until other help had arrived. With him there, and if she had practiced with her dagger more diligently, she could have stabbed one of the men and got away.
Tears pricked the back of Charlotte’s eyes, and she gave herself a shake. There was no point in crying over what was already done. She would find a way forward. A way that did not include marrying a man she had detested long before she’d made his acquaintance.
At least Jemmy would have arrived in Berkeley Square by now with the message that she would be rescued. That was a happy thought. Although, she wished her champion had been someone else. That situation, though, was beyond her control . . . for the moment.
She could not stop her mind from wandering back over the past day. At first, Lord Kenilworth had seemed so nice, and she could not deny he was handsome, and there had been that kiss. Still, handsome is as handsome does and . . . She really had to stop thinking about Kenilworth.
Matt and Grace wouldn’t be home yet, but Cousin Jane would come as soon as she received the letter giving her the direction of Lady Kenilworth’s house. Perhaps her cousin would have some ideas Charlotte could not think of. After all, Jane had successfully managed not to marry the man her father chose for her.
Charlotte would write to Dotty as well. Her friend had always helped her find the best solutions to the problems Charlotte faced. And Dotty would understand why it was impossible for Charlotte to wed Lord Kenilworth. After all, she was the one who had discovered Miss Betsy’s brothel and what she had done to the poor ladies there.
In the meantime, Charlotte would stay out of his lordship’s way. After Charlotte’s ordeal, perhaps his mother would expect her to be ill or out of sorts for a few days, and allow her to take her meals in her chamber. Normally, she would scoff at such mawkish behavior, but in this case she’d make an exception.
In a day or two, Jane would have arrived to take Charlotte home. And maybe her sister would already be waiting for her. And, if she wrote to Dotty right away, she might be in Town as well. Charlotte started to feel better, more hopeful. She wished Louisa could come, yet she was newly married and it would not be fair to drag her back to Town.
If only Lord Braxton and Lord Gerald had not been there, none of this would be necessary. Still, they had been, and Charlotte must think of a way out of this tangle.
She nodded to herself. She would write to her oldest sister and to her friend and tell them everything that had occurred—well, maybe not about the kiss—and among them, they would figure out a way for her to jilt Lord Kenilworth. He shouldn’t even care if she ended the engagement. He did not want to marry her in any event.
Lady Bellamny was right. Everything would be as it should be, just not as her ladyship expected.
* * *
Less than thirty minutes later, Con turned down the familiar drive lined with linden trees. Leaning forward slightly, he waited until the Elizabethan manor house came into view. Even the horses seemed to sense his excitement and sped up a little.
As he approached, the windows sparkled as if diamonds had been set in the glass panes. Wooden beams crossed not only the cream-colored wattle and daub but the red brick as well. Although hidden from the front, the gardens in back had been restored to their original splendor, and he could not wait to see them once more. The manor house was easily the favorite of all his properties.
And even though Charlotte had given him nothing but trouble, he wondered if she would be as impressed by the manor as he always was.
He slowed the pair to a stop, jumped out of the phaeton, and threw the ribbons to a groom who had run up.
When Lady Bellamny’s traveling coach stopped, Con opened the door and let the steps down.
“My ladies, welcome,” he said, offering his hand. Once Lady Bellamny was out of the carriage, he turned to assist Charlotte down, almost expecting her to refuse his offer. Instead, she was standing in the door gazing in what appeared to be awe at the house’s façade.
“It is lovely,” he murmured, praying this new side of her would last.
“Yes. It is beautiful.” Her expressive blue eyes sparkled. “I love the wattle and daub, and the windows. Is it in an E shape?”
“It is indeed. You know your architecture.” He had never before met a young lady interested in old buildings, and his appreciation of her grew. Had Lady Bellamny said something to Charlotte to make her change her mind about him? He had never before been rejected by a woman, and it pricked his pride that the lady he must marry did not want him.
“Did one of your ancestors build it?” She scanned the front of the building as if she was attempting to take in everything about the structure before entering.
“It has been in my family for only about one hundred years.” Con offered her his hand again. “There are knot gardens in the back as well as a maze.”
The massive double doors to the house opened, and a butler emerged. “My lord, welcome. Her ladyship shall be here directly.”
A bevy of footmen swarmed the carriages, then fell back looking confused. Good God. How had he forgotten how singular it would appear for two ladies to arrive with no luggage?
“There is no baggage, Dalton.” Con held out one arm to Lady Bellamny and the other to Charlotte, and he almost sighed with relief when she placed her slender fingers on his jacket. “It will be here later along with my valet and Lady Charlotte’s maid.”
For a scant moment, the butler’s lips pursed as if he had tasted a particularly sour lemon. The man needed to work on keeping his thoughts to himself. “Very good, my lord.”
He escorted Lady Bellamny and Charlotte as they made their way into a grand hall. Removing her hand from his arm, Charlotte stared up at the carved wooden beams darkened by age, then looked down, taking in the checkerboard pattern of the marble tiles in dark blue and white.
Before his mother had moved in, old weapons adorned the walls. They had been replaced by old paintings and even older tapestries.
“One could easily spend a lifetime exploring this house and the grounds,” she said, strolling around as she gazed up at the walls.
“Almost.” Was that a pang of regret in her voice? He hoped it was. “I certainly have not been able to explore it all, and it was not from lack of trying.”
He was congratulating himself at how well things were going, when his mother, a tall woman with russet-colored hair, descended the stairs. Her skin was still flawless. It was as if she had not aged a day since the last time he had visited. Mama glanced from Con to Charlotte, then to her ladyship.
No one could accuse her of being stupid. In the brief time she’d traversed the stairs, he could tell she had apprehended most of the situation. Finally, she was going to get her wish that he wed.
Slowly, Mama’s lips formed a wide smile. “Almeria, I am overjoyed to see you. What have you brought me?”
“As I am to see you.” Lady Bellamny touched Lady Kenilworth’s outstretched hand and bussed her cheek. “You must come up to Town more often.”
The older ladies embraced before his mother turned to him, raising a brow as she did. “Constantine?”
Immediately, he bowed and made a nod in Charlotte’s direction. “Mama, this is Lady Charlotte Vivers—”
“Carpenter,” Charlotte corrected him in a firm but cordial tone as she made an elegant curtsey. “Vivers is my brother-in-law, the Earl of Worthington’s, family name.”
And guardian. Con finally remembered that Worthington was raising his wife’s sisters and brothers along with Worthington’s own sisters. Con tried to keep his back teeth from grinding. At the rate he was going, he’d wear them down before he was much older. “My mistake.”
Perdition. How in hell could he have forgot the name she had given the landlord? Not only that, but she didn’t have the Vivers’ dark hair and lapis eyes. Carpenter? Stanstead? Hell. She must be the old Earl of Stanstead’s daughter and the new earl’s sister. Nothing like feeling a fool.
Not only that, his fumble put paid to the story he’d planned to tell his mother; that he and Charlotte had known each other before.
“Lady Charlotte, my mother, the Marchioness of Kenilworth.”
“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
Not batting an eye, his mother held out her hand in welcome. One would almost think he was in the habit of bringing home disheveled young ladies whose names he did not know. “I believe we shall take tea in the morning room, and you may tell me what this is all about.” Lady Kenilworth’s eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed at Charlotte and her son. “However, that can wait. Lady Charlotte shall have a chance to rest. You look as if you have not slept well, my dear.”
Although Charlotte’s back was still erect, she seemed to droop, and there was a twinge of something in the region of Con’s heart. She had been through a great deal lately.
“Thank you. I am rather fatigued,” Charlotte replied.
As if she had been waiting to be summoned, Mrs. Moore, his mother’s housekeeper, came up next to Charlotte, curtseyed, then looked to his mother.
“Here you are, my dear.” His mother maintained her smile and the light tone with which she had greeted them. “Mrs. Moore will be happy to escort you to your chamber.”
“If you will come with me, my lady, I have a room ready.”
“Thank you.” She smiled gratefully.
That was the first time Con had seen her smile since . . . well, since she discovered his name. He didn’t know what had caused this complete turnabout in her attitude, but he was grateful for it.
Once Charlotte and the housekeeper had ascended the stairs and turned into the east wing, Mama flew into action. “Dalton. We shall want tea and whatever else Cook has on hand at this hour of the day.”
In an attempt to escape, Con bowed. “Lady Bellamny, thank you for your help. Mama, I shall see you after I have rested.”
She glanced at him, both eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. “Not so fast, my boy. Before you do anything else, I shall have this story from you.”
Without waiting for him to reply, she took Lady Bellamny’s arm and turned on her heel, leading the way to the back of the house.
He followed the ladies down the corridor. At least he’d get to tell his story without Charlotte interrupting, and enlist his mother to his cause.