Page 15 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Elizabeth broke into a rare smile and raised her cup. “I daresay you have not read the scandal sheets this morning.”

Charlotte’s cup rattled its way into the saucer. The dratted man. She’d be ruined. “What did it say, Elizabeth?” She held her breath.

“Only that Lady C had been seen behaving in a shameless manner with Mr. G at the Waterloo Ball and Fete.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her, a censure to be sure. “What on earth did you do, Charlotte? One scandal sheet is calling you the ‘Wicked Widow.’”

Dear Lord. Not ruin, but close enough. Apparently, someone had noticed her emerge rumpled from the stairwell, so anyone who had seen her and Mr. Garrett dance together would assume the worst. Charlotte put her head in her hands. At the very least they would expect her to marry the man. Well, they could all go hang.

“Yes, I did meet him, and no, I do not have any desire to bring him to the altar. He is a rake who may be trying to ruin me. He certainly acted like it last night.”

Elizabeth frowned. “So you were not a willing participant?”

“Hardly.” Charlotte shook herself. “His attentions were most unwelcome. Well,” she paused, and heat crept into her face, “mostly unwelcome.”

“Mostly?” Her friend gave her an arch look.

“Please believe me, I didn’t encourage him in the least. But when he kissed me . . .” Lord, she could feel his lips on hers with the mere thought of the word kiss. She shrugged. “I have had no warmth or passion in my life for so long, Elizabeth. It was a relief to know I could still feel something.”

“I would never have doubted it, my dear. You have an amazing amount of love in you.” She smiled and patted Charlotte’s hand. “Still, if you would not wed Mr. Garrett, there are others you might consider, I suppose.”

“Actually there is not.” Charlotte drew herself up. Her friend would not like her next statement at all. “I do not intend to marry again.”

Elizabeth’s face changed from confusion to shock. “Not wed again?” Her horrified voice rose two octaves. “But Charlotte, what do your parents say about such a thing?”

“They have no say over me now, thank God. Oh, they will be scandalized, no doubt, but I don’t give a fig for what they want.” She turned the cup to and fro in its saucer. “My mother practically abandoned me as a child, then did in earnest when I married Sir Archibald. Father’s decree, I assume. No one in the family was allowed to contact me, although I did receive the odd letter at Christmas from Mama most years, so I do know some of what goes on. Mama was much taken up with my sister Agnes, Lady Ramsay, the good child, and her increasing brood this past year. And she’ll be busy getting ready for Sophia’s come-out next year as well, I daresay. She won’t care that she does not need to plan another wedding for me.”

Flustered, Elizabeth’s face paled. “You never told me that, Charlotte. But even so, what about a family of your own? What about children?”

“I was married once and that was nightmare enough for me. I will not allow myself to be under the absolute power of a man ever again.” She clenched her hands, the memory of Sir Archibald’s cruelties never very far from her thoughts. “My husband commanded my every move, from town to country, country to town—whether he accompanied me or not. I could not stir from the house without his approval.” Her jaw clenched. “After our wedding, he controlled all expenditures, including my clothing. He made me feel like a servant to whom he need not pay wages.”

“Not every man is like that.” Elizabeth set down her cup as well and grasped Charlotte’s hands. “You need to find a good one who will love you and give you children.”

Charlotte sniffed. “If I had a loving husband, of course I would want children. I would not, however, have wanted them with Sir Archibald, had it even been possible. They might have turned out like Edgar.”

Edgar Cavendish had taken Charlotte in dislike upon their initial meeting six years before. Try though she might in the early days of her marriage, she had never been able to make Edgar thaw toward her. After he spread rumors about the nature of her elopement with Edward, the animosity had become mutual.

“Sir Archibald couldn’t have more children?” Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed.

“Not when he never visited his wife’s bed, he couldn’t.” Charlotte kept her gaze firmly on her teacup.

“You had no marital relations with Sir Archibald at all?” Elizabeth’s shocked whisper made Charlotte flinch.

“None whatsoever.” Bitterness flooded her voice. She had not desired the physical attentions of her aging husband and had been glad when he made no move to claim his rights. He had made sure she suffered otherwise at his hands, however. To retaliate, she had filled her lonely bed with dreams of the husband she had been denied, the one with whom she could have shared a good and passionate life. It had not helped much. “The most loving thing he ever did for me was to die.”

“Charlotte!” Elizabeth’s face had drained of color.

Charlotte set her cup carefully on the saucer. “You may think me wicked for such thoughts, but I cannot help myself. Father dragged me from Edward’s arms and threw me into Sir Archibald’s.” Resentment welled within her anew. “Can you imagine your disgust if you were forced to leave Dickon and made to marry . . . oh, I don’t know, Lord Bassingstoke?” Bassingstoke was a particular crony of Elizabeth’s father, perhaps twenty years her senior.

Elizabeth shook her head, cringing. “That is not quite the same thing, Charlotte. Dickon came of gentle birth, a colonel in the army. Edward Thrush was a—”

“Servant; I know.” Charlotte stared at her fiercely. She would never be ashamed of him. “My groom, and I loved him. He loved me. What he was didn’t matter. We would have been happy.”

“You would have been disinherited and forced to live God knows how once Edward was dismissed without a reference.” Elizabeth met her eyes, a mixture of sympathy and censure in their blue depths. “It is hard to live on love alone. Georgie can tell you that.”

Charlotte longed to rail at her friend, defend her love, but she had never been able to make anyone understand. Edward had been the only man who had ever cared for her. From the moment that summer when her father had assigned the new groom to accompany her whenever she rode out, she had felt at ease with Edward Thrush. He’d not shied away from talking to her, as her other grooms had. She’d been sent to the Glasbury estate as punishment for speaking back to her father and had been mad for company.

Edward had known so much about the land at Glasbury Park and had told her many fascinating things as they rode each day. He even made her laugh into the bargain. She’d loved that though a groom, he had wanted to better himself, in the hopes of owning his own small estate one day. Most of all, Edward had been kind to her. She had never had kindness from her father or brother, and precious little from her mother either, so it had mattered a great deal to her. Charlotte had not believed she was being defiant by eloping; she had simply wanted to be loved. There would never be another man as sweet and caring as Edward.

After that horrible night, she had never heard one word about him. The moment she learned of her widowhood, she had made inquiries, tried to find him. She now had the means for them to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. But the men she had employed had discovered no trace of him. Resigned to never know what had become of him, she prayed nightly he still lived. Now, at four and twenty, she had her freedom and the means to live life on her own terms. Precisely what she intended to do.