An Heir of Deception (34 page)

The day of the ball, Charlotte received another message from Alex assuring her he’d be arriving late afternoon—just in time to get ready. Which meant they wouldn’t have time for their talk. But at least he was finally coming home.

As it was, it wasn’t until just before seven that evening that her husband made an appearance. The housemaid informed her of his arrival while her sister’s French maid, Esther—whose services Katie had so magnanimously offered as it appeared the girl must have dressed hair in another life (perhaps that of Marie Antoinette)—created miracles with her curly locks.

Her heart had gone from skipping a beat in anticipation every few minutes or so to thrashing about in her chest as if trapped and its only hope of survival was to escape. She willed herself to breathe in a normal manner but her body demanded autonomy from the more judicious aspects of her and so her breathing trotted gleefully along with her misbehaving heart. Charlotte could barely sit still such was the calamity going on inside her after the housemaid’s announcement and subsequent exit.

Once her sister’s maid skillfully coaxed the final hair into place, Charlotte admired the labor of almost an hour of work in the vanity mirror. With half the length of her hair pinned up at her nape in something that resembled an elegant chignon, the maid had managed to keep her natural curls in place. The resulting effect was breath stealing and Charlotte could not have been more pleased.

Profuse praise for her work was followed by equally profuse
merci madam
and
de rien
s. The girl departed shortly thereafter and with a happy sigh, Charlotte examined herself in the mirror one final time. She had gained back the weight she’d lost so her face no longer had that strained look. Her complexion was clear and her hair, glorious.

As for her gown; well Miss Foster had truly outdone herself. Her creation was sheer magic. It was certainly one of a kind, made of a pale green silk, the torso fitted and embellished with small, perfectly concentric pearls. The skirt was three tiered with a white chiffon overskirt. With the still-cool temperatures, they’d decided on pagoda sleeves capped at the shoulders and wrist-length silk gloves the exact color of her dress.

It had been years since she’d worn something like this—since she’d had cause to. She felt like a princess. Now it was time to go and meet her prince.

Charlotte was halfway down the stairs when Alex appeared in the foyer. Her next step faltered, forcing her to grip the railing more tightly. She hadn’t prepared herself for the sight of Alex in black tails and tie formal wear.

Heat collected in her core where she felt the deprivation of the last two weeks and then some. The white of his shirt made his skin look all the darker by comparison.

He watched her intently as she descended the stairs toward him but his expression was closed. She couldn’t tell if he approved of her appearance or not. Couldn’t tell whether he was glad to see her.

Charlotte reached the bottom. “You look quite dashing.” The lightness of her tone belied the mad pounding of her heart.

For a moment, she didn’t think he’d return the compliment, although something flickered in his eyes. His gaze swept her, pausing here and lingering there before returning to her face. That is when she saw the heat smoldering in his eyes. Lust in human form.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice slightly graveled.

“Thank you.” Now she spoke as if short of breath.

“Come, the carriage is waiting,” he said when it appeared they’d be content to stand forever practically eating each other up with their eyes.

In the clarence, they sat across from one another, he now sporting a black great coat and she having donned her new cashmere mantle.

“Were you able to get the matter resolved to your satisfaction?” Because of course they should speak and not just continue to openly covet the other. They were civilized.

His nod came in the shadow of a movement. “Indeed. It wasn’t until after I arrived at the solicitor’s office that I realized we have no marriage contract and I hadn’t made provisions for you in my will. The initial changes only dealt with Nicholas. I’ve now taken care of that. You’ll be happy to know, you shall be amply provided for upon my death.”

For a moment, Charlotte hung suspended in a state between joy and horror. Horror won quite handily.

“Please, do not say such things. Not even as a joke.” Her thoughts immediately went to his unintentional dunking in the Thames and the fever that had come close to finishing what the river had not.

They could barely see one another for the sun had long sunk below the horizon and the moon had turned its dark side to Reading. But her sight adjusted enough to the dark to make out the varied gray outline of his form.

After a pause, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Do not worry, I don’t intend to expire for a great while. My son is not fully grown and I expect to see him married with children of his own.”

Charlotte knew she should have contented herself with that. Her heart should not twist like a pair of wringing hands because he neglected to mention her or future children. But then, he’d not long ago told her he wanted no more children with her and that his love for her was so obliterated, he could not will it back if he wished to.

Before she allowed it to spoil her evening, she forcibly thrust those thoughts aside. “Honestly, I hadn’t given it a thought. Thank you for thinking of us.”

A flash of white in the dark indicated he had smiled.

“I’d like to speak with you when we return.” The timbre of his voice dropped to encompass ranges from enticing to seduction.

Charlotte instantly grew warm as her anticipation for the ball waned. Now all she wanted was to instruct the driver to turn back and take them home. Of course, Missy would never forgive her and neither would the guests, many who’d traveled a great distance to get a firsthand look at the couple whose wedding all had thought never to have occurred.

“Mightn’t it be too late for that?” The coquette in her decided to make an appearance.

The sound of his chuckle, low and infinitely amused, filled the carriage. “Not the kind of discussion I hope to have.”

Perhaps, it would be wise if they left the ball early was Charlotte’s last thought before she realized they had stopped in front of her brother’s estate.

They’d been instructed to arrive early and stand with James and Missy to greet the guests so it was no great surprise the circular drive was empty. Butterflies now collected in her stomach when she thought of the evening to come and its significance. Not that she cared so much for herself. No, her concern was for her family.

The door to the carriage opened and she sucked in a breath. Alex reached over and took her hand. “It doesn’t matter what they say or think or do. You are not dependent on their patronage.”

It was the closest he’d ever come since she told him the truth, to saying he understood, that he would stand by her no matter what. She couldn’t afford to cry and found it impossible to speak. Instead she gave a tiny nod and curled her fingers around his gloved hand with the knowledge that no matter what happened tonight, things would be fine.

Halfway through the evening, Rutherford asked to have a word with Alex in private. Except for a brief conversation where his friend had approved the marriage solution, they hadn’t spoken since Rutherford had stormed into his study months ago.

They adjourned to the library, where a fire blazed in the fireplace. His friend lit two gas lamps, bathing the room in white incandescent light.

“Charlotte looks happy,” Rutherford said as he settled himself against the edge of the desk and crossed his feet at his ankles.

Alex smiled, inclining his head in acknowledgment of that fact. He was happy. Although he’d be much happier later on tonight in her bed with her naked under him—or on top—he wasn’t the least bit particular on that score.

“She finally told us why she left,” his friend continued. A frown settled on his brow.

Alex widened his stance and thrust his bare hands in to his trouser pockets. “Ah, so she told you. Have we reason for concern? Charlotte is of the impression the culprit was your mother.”

Rutherford was shaking his head even before he’d finished speaking. “It was not my mother,” he said emphatically.

His friend’s response did not come as a surprise. Alex had had his doubts about the dowager’s involvement when Charlotte had informed him.

“Then who wrote the letter?”

Rutherford shrugged. “I don’t know but I shall do my best to find out. I’ve hired a private investigator to look into the matter.”

“But who would threaten them and then say nothing for five years? Surely this isn’t something we need worry ourselves over any longer?” For Charlotte and Catherine’s sake, he sorely hoped not.

Rutherford cast his gaze around the room as if deep in thought. He then directed his attention back to Alex. “It recently occurred to me that my sisters may not be the true targets of the threat.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, removing his hands from his pockets.

“I mean what if it is your life they set out to destroy? Losing my sister devastated you. Everyone is well aware of that. It’s only in the last year that you’ve managed to piece your life back together. And just when you started giving serious thought to marrying, Charlotte appears with your son. I don’t believe it was merely a coincidence. We all would have been knee-deep in scandal if not for those marriage papers.”

“Are you saying someone did this to make my life miserable?” The notion was absurd.

“I’m saying perhaps someone did this to ensure you did not marry. Haven’t you a cousin or uncle who set to inherit should you not produce an heir? I’m saying, what if I’ve sent the investigator in the wrong direction. At present, he’s looking for someone who has a grudge against my sisters when perhaps he should be looking for someone associated with you.”

Frankly, the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “My father’s nephew, Henry Wentworth would have been my heir if not for Nicholas.”

Although he and his cousin had never been close, Alex wouldn’t have thought him capable of such deviousness—not that he could say he knew Henry all that well.

However, Rutherford’s speculations did have merit. It was certainly worth looking into.

His friend gave a brief nod and said, “I’ll give his name to the investigator. Have you given any thought to what you will do if the worst happens?”

“I will not have my wife and child treated as pariahs,” Alex replied in a hard voice. “We’d move if we had to. Since America is familiar to them, perhaps we’d go there. Catherine could come too.” Charlotte would insist on it.

Rutherford gave him a wry smile. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Indeed, Charlotte’s euphoria lasted two hours into the ball. The grand room had been transformed into something magical. Candles lit the place like a Christmas tree and the refreshment room held a steady stream of hungry and thirsty guests.

Which wasn’t to say she had been received wholeheartedly by all of their guests. A few of the women had offered her stilted, sometimes even cold greetings, but thankfully she hadn’t
actually
been cut. However, the evening remained young as it had yet to reach midnight.

She and Alex had danced the first dance, a quadrille, and were scheduled to perform the final waltz. Anticipation swirled within her at the prospect of being held in his arms, breathing in his singularly masculine scent.