Apparently she’d underestimated Mr. Cooper. He was far more devious and scheming than he’d let on.
“Be that as it may, Windham is not the man we’re discussing,” Papa said. “Now, what I want to know is whether or not you were aware of Mr. MacNeil’s true identity.”
“He’s a good man,” Charlotte insisted. She’d not sit here and deny what she knew to be true. “The best I’ve ever met.”
“I take that as a yes then.” Papa’s eyes were harder than flint. “And yet you brought him into our home. You allowed us to think he was worthy of keeping our company and, might I add, of marrying you!”
“Heisworthy,” Charlotte snapped. “Mr. MacNeil is kind and thoughtful. I feel safe when I’m with him and...I’m sure he’s more than what he appears, even to me.” A thought struck her. “Who did Lady Warwick say he reminded her of, Mama?”
Mama exchanged a cautious glance with her husband before saying, “Mr. Bruce Callanach.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Charlotte said.
Mama pushed out a breath. “He used to be one of the richest men this side of The Channel.”
“Used to be?”
“He died years ago. Not that it matters. Having met Callanach, I’d say the only thing Mr. MacNeil has in common with him, besides the height, is the fact that they’re both Scottish.”
“I see.” Charlotte’s hope of Mr. MacNeil somehow belonging to an upper-crust family dwindled. Not that it mattered. He could be the son of a murderer for all she cared, and she’d still stand by him. But it would have been nice to wield a connection to wealth and respectability as an additional weapon against this new assault on him. “Well. It doesn’t change how I feel. Mr. MacNeil is the man I intend to marry and—”
“The hell you will,” Papa snapped.
“Lord Elkins,” Mama admonished.
“Forgive me,” Papa said. He shot to his feet and crossed to the sideboard where he proceeded to pour a drink. “I’m afraid this matter has riled me more than what is deemed proper. My apologies, ladies. Mr. Cooper. Would anyone else like a brandy?”
When everyone declined, he returned to his chair with his own. Once seated, he took a long swallow before pinning Charlotte with a hard glare. “There will be no more talk of Mr. MacNeil. Is that clear? From this moment on it will be as though he never existed. It goes without saying that you’re not to see him again.”
“And if I refuse?” Charlotte asked while anger slid through her veins with increasing speed.
“Clearly we have been too lenient with you, too distracted by your sisters’ courtships, engagements and weddings these past few years to pay you much heed.” Papa’s voice was tight, his eyes blazing. “You seemed content to wait for the right man to come along. You weren’t in the same kind of rush to wed as they were.”
“I’m still not,” Charlotte said. She couldn’t allow this to go any further. Which meant it was time to be honest. “The fact is I don’t actually want marriage. My dream is to write. That’s what I’m passionate about.”
“What a childish idea,” Mama said with a shake of her head.
Charlotte fought the urge to rail at her. Instead she said, “I’m sure there are other women who feel the same, who do not wish to lose their independence to a husband. My plan is to purchase a cottage where we can live together.”
“As spinsters.” Her mother practically spat the word as if it tasted sour.
“And how exactly do you intend to fund this fairytale endeavor of yours?” her father asked.
She couldn’t reveal that, so she simply said, “I have some savings.”
Her father snorted in the sort of disbelieving manner that told her he didn’t think she had an ounce of sense or any idea of how much a cottage would cost. As if to underline this sentiment, he gave his full attention to Mr. Cooper and said, “I must apologize to you for the manner in which I described my daughter, which now appears to have been highly exaggerated. Naturally, if you still wish to marry her, you have my full blessing.”
“Besides that,” Charlotte said, pressing on while her dreams crashed down around her, “I was hoping you would permit me to use my dowry.”
Silence.
Papa and Mama shared a wary glance, the sort that gave Charlotte cause for concern. “Papa?”
Her father cleared his throat. “You have no dowry, Charlotte. I’m sorry.”
“What?” Charlotte stared at him with growing unease. “What do you mean? Edwina and Melanie had vast sums settled on them so I don’t understand why I wouldn’t.”
Papa took a deep breath, which he followed with a long swallow of brandy. “If you must know, I had some bad luck a few years ago when two of the companies I had invested in went bankrupt. Your dowry was used to buy shares in Mr. Cooper’s business and for general expenses. Like the roof you have over your head.”
