Walter’s expression turned mean. “They will be so glad to see me home, they’ll believe every word. They adore me. I am the proper lord.”
It turned John’s stomach, but it was true. London would be in alt to have the favored son home.
“Please, give me some time,” John begged. “I need to settle my affairs. There are things I must do, conversations I must have, before your return is revealed.” He needed to talk to Charlotte, to warn her. To tell her that the life they’d planned together was no longer an option.
***
“Well, I am certain that if Lord Chester wishes not to be the subject of so much conversation, he should stop sneaking off with a different married woman at every gathering,” Charlotte said, taking a sip of raffia and feeling truly happy for the first time in weeks. John’s debts were settled; William was mending, cranky but blessedly sober; and tomorrow she and John would announce their engagement. Life was good. It was everything she’d dreamed of.
“Or at least he must be more circumspect about it,” Henrietta added. “It’s as though he doesn’t even try to keep his affairs secret.”
The girls watched as Lady Dunford exited the ballroom through the doors Lord Chester had used just moments before.
“I can’t truly blame her,” Josie said. “Could you imagine marriage to Lord Dunford?” She shuddered. Lord Dunford was nearly eighty and had a tendency to make what he thought were amusing double entendres that were, in reality, unamusing lewd comments.
Hen smiled. “There is one man to whom marriage might be rather pleasant, if onlysomeonewould snap him up.” She inclined her head toward the ballroom entrance.
Charlotte followed her gaze. The sight of John framed by the doorway made her insides fuzzy. “Excuse me,” she said to her friends, not waiting for a response. She could feel their amused stares on her as she left.
She wove her way through the crowd until she was standing before him. She itched to take his hand or to rise on her toes and kiss him. Tomorrow, they would tell Edward. After that, they could announce their engagement publicly. Until then, she would have to be satisfied with a smile and a slight brush of the hand.
He didn’t return her smile though, and on closer inspection, his face was pinched, his body tense.
“John, what is the matter? What has happened?”
“We must speak privately,” John said. “Now.” His tone set alarm bells ringing.
“Very well,” she said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Come outside.”
She led him through the foyer and out the front door, waving off the butler as he offered to retrieve her coat. “Are you well?” she asked, turning to face him when they reached the front landing.
“Walter has returned.”
“What?Your brother is dead. His body was recovered from the Thames.” It had been the talk of London. There had even been a sketch of it in the papers, though she’d avoided looking at it.
John tugged at his hair, an anguished expression on his face. “He lied, Charlotte. He faked his death and disappeared just long enough for me to drag the estates out of trouble, and now he’s returned. He probably had someone at the bank waiting to notify him the minute the accounts were replenished.”
A horrified bubble of laughter escaped her and she slapped a hand to her mouth. This was absurd. It beggared belief. “But he drowned,” she said. “You are the viscount.”
John shuffled his feet, toying with the lone pebble that had somehow made it to the polished landing. “But I’m not, though. I never was.” He kicked the pebble back to the drive.
Charlotte shook her head, pulling away from him. That dastardly fiend. “No. No, this is not right. He can’t be allowed to get away with this.” What could they do? There had to be something they could do.
“He can’t get away with what? Taking his rightful place? Faking his death was a bastard act, but we’ll never be able to prove that it was intentional. And he’s not doing anything wrong by returning. He’ll have to answer some awkward questions, but my brother is nothing if not charming. Whatever story he weaves, people will accept.”
Charlotte paced the landing, mumbling to herself as she sifted through this new information, trying to understand the implications. Her fingers worried at the lace of her neckline. “What of the estate?”
“It belongs to him. It always has.”
Drat. She spun to face him. “But, John, what of themoney? The title is neither here nor there but the money, that was all yours. That was your life’s work. He has no claim to it.”
John swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “The money is gone, Charlotte. The debts are all paid. What little was left is in a bank account that belongs to Walter. I have nothing. Not even a roof to put over our heads.”
“I…” She couldn’t form words. She didn’t even know what to say. Shealwayshad something to say.
John ran his hand through his hair.
“Good God.” She sank down onto the steps, pressing her fingers to her lips. John sat next to her, hip to hip, and dropped his head in his hands.
