At least she hadn’t asked them to keep that a secret.
“The mill?” Harwich asked.
“Yes, the mill, to begin with,” Victor ground out. “Why did neither of you bother to tell me that I owned a quarter?”
“Charlotte asked us not to,” Harwich answered, not the least bit ashamed.
“I should have known.”
“Why?”
Victor blinked at him, not certain how to answer, though it should have been obvious.
“Charlotte had her reasons,” Melcombe said. “I assume she explained them to you?”
Yes, she had, but Victor wasn’t even certain he could trust her reasoning.
“She did not want you to be ashamed of being in trade,” Harwich said.
Victor blew out a sigh. It is what she told him. Unless she had lied to the two gentlemen as well.
“Did you know of her paintings?” he demanded.
“What paintings?” Lady Harwich asked. “I knew she painted, such as the ballroom ceiling. But am unaware of any paintings other than your portrait.”
Perhaps she hadn’t shared everything if two of her closest friends didn’t know. “I discovered paintings,” he dismissed, not willing to tell them the truth if Charlotte hadn’t confided in them.
“Should you not be asking Charlotte these questions, and not us,” Melcombe asked.
Except, Victor wasn’t certain he could trust that she would tell him the truth.
“Charlotte is not who I thought she was,” he finally said, realizing that it was a mistake to come here.
“Did you expect to find the same sixteen-year-old girl whom you had left here four years ago?” Harwich asked.
“Four years she was alone, and you did not expect her to change?” Lady Melcombe added.
“I find I do not know her as well as I thought.”
“Nor does she likely know you,” Lady Harwich countered. “A person can change much in an even shorter amount of time.”
“But she does know me. I have never hidden anything from her. Not like she has from me.”
“Did it ever occur to you that the perception you have of yourself may not be the same one that she has of you?” Lady Melcombe suggested.
Victor frowned. “She knows exactly who I am,” Victor defended. He had always been honest with Charlotte. Even if he hadn’t seen her in four years, his letters were always truthful about his doings, cares and concerns. She was the one who had not shared everything with him.
“She knows that you are a gentleman who married her by force, abandoned her for four years, though you wrote often, but remained in London as if you were a bachelor and never ended your association with a Lady Cartwright,” Lady Melcombe accused.
Victor took a step back.
“There is nothing between me and Lady Cartwright other than friendship.”
“Yet, speculation abounds in the gossip rags, which your wife has read every day for the past four years,” Lady Harwich added. “Before you accuse your wife of being secretive or whatever it is that has made you so angry, perhaps you should take a moment to perhaps understand the situation from her perspective.”
“Has she had complaints about me?” he asked, realizing that perhaps he may be at fault as well.
Lady Melcombe snorted. “Charlotte has never had a cross word to say about you. If anything, she is loyal, in her heart, even though she knows you have likely not been faithful to your vows.”
