“Yes, I want you to ruin her publicly, Roland. I have secured the Enrights an invitation to the Sedgewicks’s garden fête this Sunday at their estate outside of London. There you will ensure a public-enough falling-out with Miss Merrinan so as to compromise her into an immediate and necessary marriage.” She looked downright smug. “And I daresay you shouldn’t find it difficult, given you’ve ruined the girl already.”
Wells fumed. Apparently, the gossip swirling about town had forced his mother and Lady Enright to form an unholy alliance of sorts with both women now hatching plans to force Charles’s hand. The rumor Miss Merrinan was comporting herself like a servant in her grandparents’ house had pushed Lady Enright over the edge.
“The difference being, Mother, that I have vowed to court Miss Merrinanhonorablynow, according her the respect and admiration due a lady of her station. As you yourself counseled me to do.”
“Roland, now is not the time to turn gentleman on me.”
“Do I hear you right,Maman? You of all people now tell me to behave dishonorably, on purpose no less, all to trick the woman I love into marriage?”
“Yes,” she snarled, “because your plan is decidedlynotworking.”
“This time I am being patient, Mother. Unlike you, it seems.”
The Duchess took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Roland, love,” she began calmly enough, “Miss Merrinan is angry with you, with her grandparents, angry at the world no doubt. And she will remain angry until something occurs to jar her from her anger. What’s more, the poor girl is justified in her anger. You did treat her abominably and her grandparents did disown her most reprehensibly, causing her and her sister great hardship. So to prolong her agony by trapping her longer with the Enrights when you could simply carry her back to Cumberland and make her happy, well, what would you wish for her, son, you who claim to love her so?”
He had to admit, there was truth to her argument.
Yet he’d sworn he wouldn’t force or coerce Charles ever again. He’d promised her a choice when she’d been denied choice once too oft. He’d not go back now on his word to her, else she’d resent him for the rest of their married life.
Ifthey ever married.
“I am sorry,Maman,” he told her quietly. “I will attend this garden party but I will not willfully compromise Miss Merrinan into marriage. I cannot do that to her, not after everything I’ve already done. I simply cannot.”
Dearest Charles,Eleanor began, for Charles had snatched the letter delivered on the footman’s platter with anxious hands, fearing the worst for Father.
I cannot tell you my relief upon receiving word Lord Wellesley has delivered you into safety. How I have worried about you, sister! Only do not hate me for telling him you fled to London. At first I did not. I scolded him most harshly, John can attest. Yet had you seen him that day, Charles, frantic for you, a man brokenhearted . . .
Brokenheartedher foot.He’d fooled Ellie again, it seemed.
. . . and desperate enough I did not recognize him almost. I knew then that his lordship loves you, Charles, as much as you love him, so I could remain silent no longer. I hope you have forgiven him by now and will come home to us. I hope you will forgive me, too. It was concern for you only which made me break my promise.
Papa is well, though he remains in a weakened state. I am grateful he knows naught of your predicament. He thinks you still at the Abbey and scolds you for not visiting. At least on those days when he does not think you still his little girl, needing scolding for other reasons.
I will end by saying that our grandparents have written to me as well, and that I have responded only out of politeness to you rather than to them. It must surely be a shock to reside again beneath their roof, and I am sorry for it, though I understand his lordship’s reasons. Promise me you will not anger them too much, sister; I shall remain by letter distantly polite. Once you are home you need never see them again.
I wish only for your safe return now, for your happiness, and for you to attend my wedding. That and for me to attend your own wedding to Lord Wellesley. Do not frownso, Charles, I can picture you scowling at the very words I write. For once, sister, set aside your stubborn pride. I know you care for his lordship, as he cares for you. As Papa and I care deeply for you too. Write to me soon, I beg, that I may hear from you myself. I love you Charles—be good! Eleanor
Be good? What the devil had made her write that? Charles angrily set aside the letter, stewing not a little over her sister’s words, though she was relieved Father’s health was no worse. She would pen Eleanor a response, of course, but would mince no words about his lordship or their grandparents. That her sister could forgive Wells so readily . . .Hmph.She didn’t know the half of him.
Though she reminded herself it was in Ellie’s nature to forgive, while she was of an altogether different nature: more punishing by far.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Charles had been dressed for a party and stuffed into a carriage in a flurry of last-minute activity. No one had informed her she’d be leaving London; even her lady’s maid had not known which dress to press.
As she was jostled about on the seat across fromGrand-mèreandGrand-père, she revisited the conversation she’d had but a scant hour earlier with Jeanie, wondering anew why she was being bundled off to some garden fête. Did her grandparents mean to show her off? Or did they plan to throw her to theTon’shungry wolves?
“No, miss, ne’er heard o’ the Sedgewicks,”Jeanie had told her.“Then again I am right new here.”She’d popped a few stray flowers into Charles’s hair from the many bouquets that still littered her room.
“Perhaps Lord Wellesley’ll be there, miss.”She’d winked at Charles through the mirror.“An’ I see yer blushin’, so don’t tell me y’ wouldn’t like it if he were.”
Charles had informed her she wouldn’t, though she could recall still the rash bloom on her cheeks. Even now she felt them burn.
Her grandmother’s sharp glance across the carriage made Charles force a smile. She’d not giveGrand-mèrea hint of her true feelings. She would never trust her grandparents, no matter how doggedly they now tried to make amends.
Some things were simply unforgivable.
Wells had arrived late enough to the Sedgewick fête for it to be dusk. He’d searched in vain for Charles and the Countess of Denbigh but thus far had found neither—until he stumbled upon an outdoor balcony and observed the masses dancing below him on the estate’s grand terrace. Torches flickered along the perimeter, making the scene glow otherworldly. And there, below his vantage point, he spotted his love’s flaming, red-gold hair.
