The sound of the jangling door lock echoed in Charlotte’s stuffy head. In vexed tones her mother’s loud voice rang clear. “I cannot believe you would sequester yourself in this room for the duration of the afternoon. Sleep if you must, but tomorrow, no matter how you feel, youwillentertain our guests. Do you understand?”
Charlotte buried her head deeper into her down pillow.
“Charlotte—do you hear me?”
Another wave of defeat washed over her. After one more sob, she found what remained of her weary voice. “Yes, Mother. I will be ready.”
The sound of her mother’s triumphant slippers decrescendoed down the corridor until Charlotte was left to the silence of her room. She couldn’t bring herself to look toward the fading light from her window because even her balcony reminded her of Alex.
During the afternoon, because of Christopher’s highhanded edicts, she’d considered a great many paths for her future. She could take Penny in the dead of night and run away. If there couldn’t be reconciliation on Christopher’s part, she wouldn’t be above leaving, but she didn’t know where Alex lived and to what degree Christopher would be guarding the stables.
And even if she could somehow escape, Charlotte’s principles didn’t allow her to visit Alex unchaperoned in the middle of the night. She thought him honorable enough that neither would he wish to receive her in such circumstances. It would tarnish his name as well as hers, and it seemed as though he’d gone to great lengths to raise himself from the squalor his father had left him in.
No, she wished for him to court her and for them to eventually wed, like a normal, uncomplicated couple. There—she’d admitted it to herself. His declarations of affection had been bold and unpredictable, but with every passing minute in her solitary, oppressive room, the prospect of being with Alex felt more and more right.
Even if thereweresome way to run away and not cast a scandal on them both, there was the horrid truth that whenever Christopher found Alex, he’d try to kill him. She pulled her comforter around her, damp with so many tears, as she stifled another anguished cry.
She recalled Christopher’s resolute face. He had meant what he’d said; he was one to enact revenge if he felt it was merited. She’d seen him call out men when they’d gone into Alnwick and remembered the comeuppance he’d demanded once of a cousin who tried to cheat him. The fact that he owned several guns and was an expert marksman with an entire wood in which to use them undetected only stirred more fear in Charlotte’s heart.
She knew her brother would consider himself justified in a duel, defending her honor as it were, if she and Alex were ever found together again, no matter that such agentlemanlyconfrontation was illegal and extremely looked down upon. Christopher, when in his raging mood, was a force to be reckoned with.
But she would not let Alex die.
She knew he could be just as stubborn, though he was motivated by better-directed principles and resolve. When pitted against her brother, she feared Alex wouldn’t back down either. The realization made her cringe, and she clamped her eyes so tight, pure darkness engulfed her.
She swallowed. The only way to make sure Alexander Jenkins lived a good, long, prosperous life, was to extricate herself from any part of his future. And the only way to do that was to give in completely to Christopher’s plan. She recalled Alex’s determination as they’d parted. He wasn’t one to give up fighting, wasn’t one to give up hope, even if danger was on the line.
Two more tears tumbled out of her closed eyes and down her cheeks.
She must give up for both of them.
***
“My second-best gown,” Charlotte said to Ellen the next night as she changed for dinner. “We want to impress but not show all our cards yet.” She’d practiced her smile several times since yesterday. She had needed it that morning when she woke up and the horridness of her future again crashed into her consciousness. And she’d need it again when she greeted Lord Ainscough.
The pain of her decision was so visceral that her throat tightened and her gut wrenched, but she pushed through her myriad feelings and the sickness in her stomach as she forced herself to move forward. She did this for Alex. She would keep him safe no matter what, and the faster she secured a future with Lord Ainscough, the faster Alex would be forced to move on with his life.
Better for him to move on than to be killed.
Once her hair and dress were finished to perfection, she summoned whatever courage remained in the weary pools of her existence and moved to the door. She had opened it just a hair when she paused at the sound of voices down the corridor. Though the tones were hushed, she could tell the voices belonged to George and Christopher.
“You understand, then, why it’s so very important nothing happens that we don’t orchestrate,” Christopher said.
“You mentioned some things in your letter.”
“But let me reiterate that she doesn’t know. And I don’t trust her to know.”
Know what? Was it possible they were talking about her? Perhaps they spoke of Lady Eloise, but why would Christopher have written to George about her?
George’s generally pleasant voice came next. “Gentlemen of title find a woman with independent property to her name a complete anomaly and a very desirable catch.” There was a pause, and Charlotte wondered what face Christopher made at his brother’s words.
Christopher heaved a sigh. “Father did this just before he left to India to lure in a titled son-in-law. He told me clearly of his intention, and despite his absence, I know he still believes in his decision. This kind of land deed, in addition to her dowry, is worth far too much to let it go to just anyone. Who knows how they’d exploit it, especially since so many people have recently started wanting her land for the coal within it. Because of its potential, I find the burden of this land to be a complete liability. The legal transfer of land to her cannot be easily undone without father here. The land will go with her to whomever she marries.”
So theyweretalking about her. An angry, distrusting fire stirred within her chest. If she understood them right, she owned property. How could it be this was the first time she’d heard this? Her father had given it to her legally, not to be removed. She should have been thrilled at such a kindness, but it was merely a way to trap a titled man. That was something she should have known about, not overheard as Christopher tried to puppeteer yet another aspect of her life. She dug her nails deeper into the wooden frame of the door as anger surged through her veins at her brother’s deception.
“Well, despite the weight of it all, from what I can tell, Lord Ainscough is a good man. At least you’ve chosen well,” George said.
“Of course I have,” Christopher spat back.
