Chapter Thirty-Five
The next morning, Constantine once more joined Charlotte and her family for breakfast. They had discussed the need for her to meet with his housekeeper, but, unbeknownst to her betrothed, the meeting would have to wait until after their wedding.
“I wish I could accompany you.” He glanced at the clock and frowned. “But Merton sent me a note asking me to give him advice on a horse he had heard was coming up for sale at Tattersalls. Unless you wish to put this off, I will not have time to do both.”
She sent up a prayer of thanks for helpful cousins. “Not at all. You will have much more fun looking at horses. You might even see if you can find a matched pair for me. Matt bought Louisa and me a pair, but I assume he will wish to keep them.”
Constantine’s countenance cleared. “That is an excellent idea.”
Shortly after they finished eating, Charlotte and Grace were off to the Bond Street Bazaar to finish shopping for stockings and other necessities.
Charlotte returned home in time for tea and found Louisa had arrived with Rothwell in tow.
She pulled Charlotte aside, suppressed excitement infusing her tone. “The letter I received was that the wedding was a surprise, and that I could not tell Gideon.”
“The fact of the wedding is not a surprise, just the date,” Charlotte explained. “Other than Matt and Charlie, I was concerned that the gentlemen would let the secret out. The children do not know either. Merton is being a dear, keeping Constantine occupied.”
“Charlotte, do give over,” Louisa whispered. “What has happened? A month ago, you did not even know him.”
“I shall tell you everything, but not here.” She glanced around the room. “Meet me in the Young Ladies’ Parlor before dinner.”
Louisa looked as if she wanted to roll her eyes. “Very well, but I want all the details.”
“And you shall have them. At the moment, I need to speak with Grace.”
* * *
Con had a better time at Tattersalls than he had thought he would. He and Merton had ridden together in Con’s carriage. There were other men present he had known at school and had not kept up with. The Earl of Huntley and Viscount Wivenly greeted Con. Marcus Evesham was out of town as his wife was due to give birth shortly. Rutherford was present as well, but getting ready to leave for the country. Their discussion of horses was intermixed with politics and family issues. Huntley and Wivenly still eschewed marriage, but had not cut themselves out of Polite Society as Con had.
What was I thinking, to ignore my friends for the company of other men not nearly as worthy or interesting?
Where the hell had that thought come from? Or perhaps it was the truth. Worthington had warned him about the low company Con had been keeping. And now that he considered it, he had never gone out of his way to make plans with those gentlemen. He would not have, for example, dined with them at Brooks’s.
“If you are looking for a pair for Lady Charlotte’s carriage,” Wivenly said as he inspected a roan mare, “you’ll want grays.”
“Grays?” Con had never even seen her high-perched phaeton. Yet he was most likely the only gentleman who had never seen her drive it.
Wivenly nodded. “Her carriage is green, and the grays Worthington bought for it set the rig off to perfection.”
Perhaps Con should try to buy the pair from his soon-to-be brother-in-law. He meandered over to Merton, who was looking at a matched pair of Cleveland Bays.
“What do you think of them?” Merton asked.
They had deep chests. A groom led the horses around, showing off their high-stepping action. “Their points are excellent.”
“Of course they are.” He looked at Con as if he were mad to have questioned Merton’s judgment. “I’m referring to the color. My wife’s carriage is red with gold trim.”
Con would have laughed if his friend hadn’t looked so concerned. “I think they will do.”
He strolled over to Huntley. “Is this what marriage does to a man?”
“You will find out soon enough.” Huntley shook his head. “The sad thing is that Lady Merton doesn’t care if her horses are perfectly matched. But it’s good to see him go out of his way for her. I never thought I’d see it.”
Con would approach Worthington when he joined them for tea this afternoon. Not so much to see Charlotte cut a dash, but because she had most likely grown attached to the horses.
Once the purchase was made, they went to Brooks’s for luncheon.
“Have you and Lady Charlotte set a date yet?” Huntley asked.
“Not yet.” That was another issue Con would discuss with Worthington. “I must visit Doctors’ Commons for the special license.”
“After the End-of-Season breakfast, then.” Wivenly cut another piece of his beef.
End-of-Season breakfast? Why hadn’t Con heard about the entertainment? He was receiving all the invitations now. “When is this to be?”
“The day after tomorrow, if I am not mistaken.” Huntley looked up at Con. “You must have received an invitation.”
“My mother might have it.” And he had not seen much of her lately. She had been too busy with his sister.
“That accounts for it,” Merton said. “You will have to ask her.”
Still, it was strange that Charlotte hadn’t mentioned it, but it might have been planned while they had been running around the country. “I shall make a point to do so.”
He’d ask her this afternoon at tea. Even though he had not been invited, he was sure he would not be turned away. After all, the children liked him.
“Has anyone seen Ruffington around lately?” The query came from a gentleman at the next table. “He owes me a pony.”
“No chance you’ll get it,” another man said. “I heard he left the country.”
That was one way of putting it, Con thought, pleased their ruse had worked after all.
A few hours later he was admitted to Stanwood House by the under-butler. “The family is having tea in the morning room, my lord.”
“Thank you.” He and Charlotte had only been apart for a few hours, yet he was impatient to see her.
Yet when he entered the room, the only people present were Worthington and a gentleman Con recognized as Rothwell. Sounds of the children playing came from the garden. “Are the ladies outside?”
Rothwell raised his goblet in a salute. “In a manner of speaking. They are shopping.” His discontent was clear from his tone. “We had not been here for twenty minutes when my wife, your betrothed, and Grace deserted us.”
Con wondered if Rothwell was concerned about money. “They cannot accomplish too much in the amount of time they have. It is only another two hours until dinner, and they will wish to change.”
“You obviously do not know how efficient they can be,” Worthington mumbled.
He poured Con a glass of claret.
“Come to think of it,” Rothwell continued, taking a large drink of his wine, “when I came to Town to be inducted into the Lords, Louisa had renovated the kitchen and redecorated several rooms by the time I returned.” He frowned into his wine. “I was only gone for two weeks. I still do not know how she managed it.”
Even if Con could not spend time with his beloved, he could find out about the party. “I understand there is to be a large breakfast event in two days.”
“Grace wanted to do something before we left for the country. She had planned a ball for our sisters and Dotty, but weddings kept interfering.” Worthington took a sip of wine. “We agreed that an evening entertainment would be too much work with your marriage coming up, and decided on a breakfast.” Worthington glanced out the window and watched the children for a moment. “Your mother has your invitation.”
Again, that made perfect sense. Still, Con had the feeling that he was missing something. “I’ll look forward to it. It is too bad we could not have combined my wedding breakfast with your entertainment.”
Worthington paused for a long moment before replying. “Yes, indeed.”
“Speaking of my marriage, I would like to set a date as well as purchase from you the pair of grays Charlotte is using for her carriage.”
“The horses can be arranged. As to the other, I am still waiting for my wife to give me a date for the wedding.”
Just then the children ran into the morning room, followed at a slower pace by the Great Danes.
Worthington heaved a sigh. “I really must get Daisy to the country before she drops that litter.”
The children began to surround them, but he directed them to the schoolroom. “I shall invite Kenilworth to dine with us.”
As they left the parlor, the children chattered happily, debating who was to sit next to him.
Rothwell looked confused. “What about me?”
“I am their favorite brother-in-law.” Con couldn’t stop himself from smirking.
“What the devil did you do?” the duke groused. “They liked me perfectly well the last time I saw them.”
Knowing he had the advantage, he puffed out his chest. “I allow them to call me by my first name.”
“Those children do nothing for my consequence.” Rothwell snorted. “I never feel less like a duke than I do around this family.”
Worthington raised his glass. “And that is exactly how I intend it to remain.”
“You could allow them to call you ‘Gid,’” Con said. Rothwell scowled and Con forced his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. “They would like that.”
“I am sure they would. While they’re at it, they can call you Connie.”
“No, they can’t,” he retorted. “That’s what we call my sister Cornelia.” A circumstance he had always been thankful for. “Aside from that, Barton—you remember him—is called Connie. We’d confuse everyone.”
“Don’t feel too bad.” Worthington poured more wine in Rothwell’s glass. “Merton thought Dotty would never find a use for his title.”
Con recalled him saying something to that effect in the inn. “I for one would rather be wanted for the person I am rather than my title.” Even if he had never expected that would be the case.
Or expected to be rejected despite his title and wealth.
* * *
The next afternoon, Louisa, Dotty, and Charlotte were ensconced in the Young Ladies’ Parlor discussing Charlotte’s wedding.
“Are your wedding clothes finished?” Louisa asked. She had taken out a sheet of paper and had a pen poised over it.
“Every last item has been delivered.” Charlotte had been amazed at that. Then again, Madam Lisette was no fool, and she knew she would have years of orders from them. “May—or rather, Walker—is packing as we speak.”
“Where will you go on your honeymoon?” Louisa frowned. “Will you make a wedding trip?”
“We shall. Where depends on what happens on the Continent. If it is still unsafe, we shall go to the Lake District. I hear it is beautiful.”
“The wedding breakfast is planned,” Dotty pointed out. “You can add that to your list.”
Louisa scribbled on the foolscap. “Special license?”
“Matt has it,” Charlotte said.
“Wedding present?”
“I had an emerald tie pin made for him. It almost matches his eyes and my ring.”
Louisa’s lips formed a moue. “He will not have anything for you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Charlotte shrugged. “I am sure he will make up for it later.”
“I for one am amazed you have been able to keep this a secret,” Dotty said. “Dominic figured it out but promised not to tell anyone. I believe he thinks it is slightly roguish.”
“Poor Constantine hasn’t had much time to think about it.” Charlotte was relieved her cousin had agreed to keep her betrothed busy. “With you and Louisa spending so much time with me, Rothwell and Merton are spending time with him.”
“By this time tomorrow you will be married.” Louisa blinked rapidly. “When I wed, I was worried that you were the last one left and would be lonely. I am so happy you have found a man to love.”
Charlotte’s eyes misted, but she was determined not to cry. It would set them all off. “As am I.”
Louisa put her pocketbook in her reticule and rose. “We may as well use the hour or so we have left to finish your shopping.” A knock came on the door and Louisa sat back down again. “I hope it’s not our gentlemen. We have too much to do.”
“We shall find out soon enough,” Charlotte said. “Come.”
“My lady.” Royston handed her a card.
She did not recognize the name at all. “Did she say what she wanted?”
“No, my lady.”
Shopping would have to wait. “Very well. Send her up.” Her friends glanced at her. “A lady I have never heard of wishes to see me.”
“I hope it is not bad news,” Louisa muttered.
“I am positive it’s not.” Dotty leaned over to see the card. “Royston would not have allowed her past the door if there was anything smoky about her.”