Charlotte Read online

  “Speaking of which…” He watched Red Robin flirt skittishly with his arrogant black and indicated the track, clearly expecting to ride ahead with her. “You haven’t called on Nell yet,” he said in his abrupt voice, referring to Eleanor, his wife. “I’m sure she would like to see you.”

  Offering him a polite smile, Charlotte kept apace with him. Mrs. Hawthorn had been as inquisitive about Charlotte’s background as her husband, though in a far more charming way. “She was kind to me at your ball. She found a maid to sew up my ripped gown after the unfortunate incident with Nicholas in your garden. Then she insisted that you partner me in a dance. She didn’t indicate by word or deed that blame was due to me for the scene.”

  “Nor was it.” He drew his dark eyebrows together. “Nick’s behavior was reprehensible. It’s unfortunate you were forced to marry him.”

  “It’s unfortunate that people think I was forced. The incident could have been skimmed over easily enough.” She adjusted a rein, knowing he’d wanted her off the marriage market for his younger brother’s sake.

  James Hawthorn might have been hot on her trail, but he’d never been on her list of prospective husbands. Her mother had mentioned the Hawthorns as one family she need not try to cultivate, being far too willing to scrutinize antecedents. “Mrs. Hawthorn left a card for me, but I haven’t yet settled into the Alden household. A new bride...” She gave the helpless shrug that usually served her well. “I’ll be making morning calls in a few weeks. And thank you for Red Robin. I do love her.”

  He gave her a searching glance. “I’m glad.” He tipped his high crowned hat and left at a gallop.

  She would have liked to ease her tension the same way, but she heeded her mother’s advice not to act out her emotions. His presence had made her shoulders ache, but since he had not said a word out of place, she had at least confirmed that her marriage to his childhood friend kept her within the bounds of courtesy. Taking her horse into a canter, she realized she had lost Rob.

  Wagons bearing fresh vegetables trundled along the main road, delivering their goods to the kitchens of the houses in the area. She finished her circuit and spotted Rob sitting on his horse by the perimeter fence.

  “You won’t enjoy my morning rides,” she said to the lad. “You don’t need to come with me, you know. It’s only a few blocks to the house.”

  He looked unsure, and she resolved to evade him in the future. The proprieties would not be served by him waiting by the fence, and if she had to ride beside his slug, she would not have momentary respite from her thoughts, let alone serve the requirements of her spirited mare.

  If she rode this early each morning, no one would know she rode alone.

  * * * *

  Nick arrived home in the early afternoon, tired and out of sorts. He’d barely slept last night, not because of his mistress, Beth, but because of the damned mare Tony had given Charlotte. The easy passing off of incidental progeny had recalled to Nick Tony’s words of three years ago.

  Leave the trollop and her problem for her husband to deal with, he had said to Nick.

  Nick, however, had gritted his teeth and done his duty. In those days, although annoyed with himself for having sired a child during an irresponsible encounter, he thought he should try to right the wrong. He hadn’t known he would pay for his mistake for the rest of his life. Now, as the husband who didn’t want any interference from the father of the baby, he could see the ironic twist.

  He joined the family in the dining room for luncheon, greeting all, noting again that his wife was extravagantly dressed while her sharp-boned cousin wore her usual drab gray. He wondered what Charlotte, a beautiful but ambitious nobody from nowhere, hoped to gain by launching Sarah into society.

  Helping himself to a plate of cheese and ham and a tankard of ale, he said to Sarah, “Another day. Another plate of food to watch.”

  She sighed. “I’m not hungry. I ate a huge meal last night.”

  “So, you really only come to meals to see others eat?”

  Sarah looked toward Charlotte, possibly expecting support.

  Nick leaned back and waited.

  Charlotte appeared to spot a crumb of food on the red-striped bodice of her new morning gown. Apparently, her appearance absorbed her more than her cousin’s plight. If Sarah was now his responsibility, he had no intention of treating her as a poor relation, or of pretending concern. “I was thinking you might like a trip up the Torrens River. But I don’t want you fainting from hunger.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

  He folded his arms.

  After scrutinizing his face, she sighed. “But a bite of cheese and ham never goes amiss.” She quickly arose and helped herself to a thin slice of ham and a shaving of cheese. Although each appeared to try her appetite, she ate, her old/young face creased with apparent satisfaction. “I’ve never been in a boat.”

  “Perhaps I should look after Sarah today, Nick,” Alfred said gruffly. “She might like to visit the museum. I think you should be alone with your bride.”

  “What sort of man would want to be with one lovely lady when he can be with two?”

  Charlotte laughed, and when he glanced at her, she made a wry face. “I wasn’t certain for a moment that I was invited as well. When do you plan to leave?”

  “Within the next ten minutes.”

  When Charlotte joined him in the hall a full half hour later, she wore a concoction of red roses and blue satin ribbons on her head, which highlighted her stunning blue eyes. With her figure still slender and curvaceous and her posture perfect, she presented a lovely picture. Nick gave her a mocking salute, annoyed that her looks had the ability to stop his breath.

  Sarah had added a straw bonnet with green ribbons that did nothing for her coloring. Nick suppressed a sigh. Until she was suitably outfitted, she couldn’t be presented.

  * * * *

  The city of Adelaide had been built along the southern edge of the Torrens River, which eased past in a gentle curve. These days, grass grew down the banks, and the reed beds only existed on the sides of the water. Native ducks nested while two long-necked, black swans soared overhead, their graceful bodies in unison. Nick rested the skiff’s oars on his thighs so that he could take a swig from his silver hip flask. Before rowing back to his starting point, he needed a drink.

  Charlotte, who sat with Sarah in the front, leaned forward. “Would you mind if I took the oars for a while?”

  Noting the exasperation on her face, he took a longer draught. He could certainly manage to row both ways, primed or not, and he skimmed the boat along until he realized she still supposed him to be a daisy and consequently unable to perform ordinary male tasks. Experiencing a moment of sheer mulishness, he slowed, deliberately under-dipping with his left oar. The skiff veered. The ladies grabbed onto the sides, their eyes wavering. The opportunity to enjoy himself came rarely, and so he kept at the oars, loose-jawed and circling.

  Charlotte slid her parasol under her seat, stepped along the planking, and sat beside him, taking the closest oar with a reprimanding lift of her eyebrows.

  Offering her a wide-eyed smile, he stood and wobbled to the position beside Sarah. He leaned back, resting an effete wrist against his forehead, awaiting Charlotte’s reaction.

  She stared at the training teams of rowers who glided past with barely a ripple, and back at him. After a few moments of sucking air though her teeth, she began to row, her success markedly lacking.

  “Wake me if we reach the sea,” he said, his voice unsteady.

  “We’ll be lucky to get back to the boat ramp,” she said, watching the river flow past. “I miss more water than I catch.”

  “Perhaps I could help, too.” Sarah closed her parasol.

  Charlotte shipped one oar. “It’s harder than it looks, but I assume it’s merely a matter of reach.”

  Sarah scrambled over to the rowing seat. She took one oar from Charlotte.
On her first stroke, she almost overbalanced. “This is hard,” she said, aiming her words at Nick. “I thought you were teasing before, but perhaps you really couldn’t manage.”

  “It’s a learned skill,” he said, trying to sound aggrieved. He sat up, wondering if Sarah had his measure. He half smiled at her, and her next stroke skimmed the water. She fell backward.

  He leaned forward, grabbing at the dropped oar. “Right, ladies, thank you for the lesson.” Indicating with his head that Sarah should move, he took her place. “You, too,” he said to Charlotte, who stood, teetering, until he managed to still the boat.

  “I think between us, we barely managed five full stokes.” Charlotte daintily repositioned her crinoline.

  “You tried, which is more than most women would do.” He could test the patience of a saint, which his wife certainly wasn’t, no matter how composed she tried to appear.

  “We did.” Charlotte’s face momentarily lit up. Her eyes focused on his bare forearms and quickly shifted. “And now it’s back to the house for us.”

  “Waiting for morning callers,” Sarah said dolefully.

  “Morning callers are not an event you wait for.” He began to exert himself at the oars. A trickle of sweat ran down his back, and he realized he was out of condition. “They’re an inevitability you do your best to avoid.”

  “Not while we have Sarah to launch.”

  “Like a ship.” Sarah trailed her fingers in the water.

  He caught Charlotte’s gaze. “Are you aware you’ve been gossiped about?”

  “I assume there would be a small amount of speculation about our marriage.” She held her parasol as upright as her chin. “I’m certain I can put most of the gossip to rest. Please don’t feel the need to concern yourself in our affairs.”

  “On the contrary. As my wife, your affairs are mine.” He edged the vessel alongside the riverside jetty, wishing he had bitten his tongue. As his wife, Charlotte could not have affairs. None. Not until after her baby was born and, even then, she needed to be discreet.

  However, she’d been exactly that until the Hawthorn’s ball, which had landed him with her and her dependent cousin, steeling him in his determination not to attend society functions forevermore. She had courted the scandal she had to face. He steadied the rocking vessel. “If I were you, I would drop by to see Lady Grace for your first morning call. She will set you right.”

  “That’s what I planned do. Lady Grace has been such a good friend, not a friend, more like a parent in absentia, or a mentor—”

  “And if you plan to present Sarah,” he interrupted, “she’ll need a new wardrobe. We’ll shop for gowns today.”

  Sarah stood, staring at him. “New gowns? Today?”

  Her face a picture of surprise, Charlotte clambered out. After a pause, Sarah more carefully followed her cousin. Nick tossed a few coins to the boatman.

  He took draught long enough to almost empty his hip flask and, with the two ladies, strode the path toward the bridge where the coachman waited. Harvey spotted them and sped to the brougham, holding the door open while Sarah and Charlotte bundled in. Nick took his seat opposite the ladies.

  Sarah fixed him in the eye. “Are we really meaning to shop for new gowns? Where?”

  “We’ll try Seymour’s Emporium where we can buy ready-made. A good dressmaker will take weeks to gown you suitably.” He felt in his pocket for his flask, wondering why he had volunteered to bore himself to death.

  “What’s not suitable about the gown I’m wearing?” Sarah scanned her gray gown as if she’d never seen the repellent garment before. “I look like a respectable companion.”

  “Do you think that’s your role?” He unscrewed his flask and shook the last few drops into his mouth.

  “It has always been my role.” Sarah’s lips thinned. “Although, I suppose now I’ll have many opportunities I didn’t previously.”

  “A social life, Sarah,” Charlotte said, sounding determined. “You will meet all sorts of people.”

  “Perhaps with the right clothes I won’t be an unimportant shadow with nothing of interest to say.”

  Charlotte’s face froze. “You were never that. Surely you didn’t think so?”

  “Your friend, Mr. Worthing, thought so.”

  “Why would you care for his opinion?” Nick massaged his neck, shooting a glance at Charlotte. “The man can’t see the woods for the trees. Sarah should be dressed in pretty gowns like you. Why should she wear half mourning when you see no need?”

  “Mama died almost a year ago.” Charlotte smoothed the backs of her gloves. “I couldn’t afford to hide myself away.”

  “I didn’t attend social functions.” Sarah clutched at her reticule as the carriage rounded a corner. “So I didn’t need pretty gowns.”

  “Every pretty girl needs pretty gowns.”

  “We had no money for non-essentials, Cousin Nick,” Sarah said, her face stiff.

  “Those days are over.” His head ached. Nothing eased the ache but a sustaining drink, but he had emptied his flask. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  * * * *

  For the first time since their marriage, Nick ate an early dinner with the rest of the family. He followed Charlotte up the stairs to their sitting room. “Sarah looks very smart in her new gown. In a few years, you will be fighting off her suitors.”

  Charlotte stopped and studied his expression. “In a few years? How old do you think she is?”

  “Seventeen, eighteen.” He frowned. “How old is she?”

  “The same age as me. Twenty, almost twenty-one.”

  He nodded, strangely relieved. “Good. You can chaperone each other.” This would leave him free to avoid her. He didn’t plan to fall into the clutches of Tony’s former mistress—or any other woman for that matter. One woman had died because of him. Once was enough.

  “I’m glad you helped her choose her gowns. She wouldn’t have taken my advice as well as she took yours, though I’m surprised by your knowledge of female fashions.”

  “You’re not surprised. That’s what you expect from a man like me.” He fluttered his eyelashes and made a pout of his lips.

  She blinked at him, looked away, and walked ahead into their sitting room. Her posture was perfect, and her skirts swayed gracefully. “Your father thinks I can lead you astray.”

  The line from her neck to her shoulder looked eminently kissable. He straightened his shoulders. “He won’t when he discovers why I married you.”

  “I thought he knew. He said something... Are you going out?”

  He sighed. “Can you give me any reason to stay?”

  She sat on the couch. “Perhaps. A game of cards?”

  He frowned at the unexpected suggestion. Playing cards with a callow twenty-year-old would cause him to nod off in half a minute. “You wouldn’t be able to play anything too complicated, I imagine.”

  “Of course not, though I’m rather good at Casino.”

  He rubbed his fingers over his chin. Casino might be a child’s game, but players needed good observation, a better memory, and an ability to infer. “I would beat the drawers off you.”

  She gave him a mysterious smile. “I might beat the drawers off you.”

  His mind led exactly where he didn’t plan to go. He swallowed a measure of his waiting brandy, needing to moisten a suddenly dry mouth. “I can picture it now, both of us sitting here naked.”

  “Just picture yourself naked.” Her cheeks pinked.

  He searched for cards in his desk and tossed the deck to her. After sitting on the floor, she tucked her legs to one side and inexpertly shuffled the cards. He didn’t say a word as he moved to the carpet with her. Just thinking about the word “naked” was enough to send his imagination on a journey he would never travel, or certainly not while his wife was pregnant. He wouldn’t risk her baby. Using another swig of brandy to help, he concentrated on her placement of the cards, anywhere but at her nub
ile body.

  She dealt the hand with laborious concentration. After the first game, he discovered he needed to try. She won easily. Child’s game or not, he didn’t expect to be beaten by an inexperienced twenty-year-old when he had been gambling for years.

  Provoked by her greedy grab when she collected her cards, he lost all coherent thought of the game, and she won the second round, too. The third had begun to go the same way when he saw her hide a card beneath the pack. Now having noticed, he concentrated. She cheated constantly.

  Intrigued, he leaned back on one elbow, assessing her. Her shuffles looked awkward, but a woman with her extraordinary looks could cheat and expect to be forgiven even by a man who had his own cynical opinion to deal with.

  “Do you play poker?” he asked, flicking his cards toward the deck.

  “A little. Probably not as well as you.”

  “We ought to find out sometime, fancy fingers, but not tonight.” He rose to his feet, realizing she had kept him speculating over her talents in bed for well over an hour.

  Speculation would lead nowhere. He wouldn’t touch a pregnant woman even though he had married her. Best she continued thinking him a sodomite.

  Resigned, he went again to Beth.

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte stared at the lion-head brass knocker on the black door and held tightly to Sarah’s hand. “Ready?”

  Sarah nodded. The pale yellow crinoline she wore in no way resembled the hand-me-downs she had formerly insisted on wearing, and her little hat in shades of blue sat elegantly on her strawberry blond hair. Nick’s taste in women’s fashions was a joy. His insistence on paying was a relief.

  Charlotte lifted her hand and gave a hesitant rap. She barely had time to step back before the door swung open. A manservant in a black suit inclined his head in query.

  “Mrs. Nicholas Alden and Miss Sarah Page,” she said in her most pompous voice, and she smiled.

  His eyes twinkled back at her, and he indicated the hall of the town house owned by Sir Patrick Grace and his wife Frances, Lady Grace. The outside was modest, a bluestone single story surrounded by a wide tessellated veranda roofed to keep out the sun. Fresh flowers sat on the hall table. With shaky fingers, Charlotte removed her card from her reticule, but a small and very pretty woman, likely in her middle forties, appeared from the back of the house. She wore a gown of olive green with a fussy bodice and looped skirts.