Page 43 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“Of course, that will be more easily accomplished when you are in your own home again.” Charlotte rushed on past the reference. “I couldn’t help but notice you seemed to enjoy Lord Brack’s company this weekend. The short time I have spoken to him, I have found him a very amiable gentleman. And he’s so kind to Georgina. Do you like him, Elizabeth?”

Her friend smiled briefly and shook her head. “I know what you are about, Charlotte. And the short answer to your question is yes, I do like Lord Brack and find him to be, as you said, both amiable and kind. I cannot, however, know on such short acquaintance if we would suit for more than friendship.”

“Have you told him about the children?” That might be a bone of contention Charlotte had not planned on. Some men did not like to raise children not their own.

Elizabeth picked up her tea and set it down again. “Georgie took care of that revelation the first night. Lord Brack knows all about Dickon and the children. And I must say, he seemed very sympathetic. He knows how hard a time Georgie’s had.” She sent Charlotte an intense look. “And that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“About what?”

“Georgina.”

Charlotte poured tea and reached for the sugar. “Georgie? Has something happened?” Bizarre images of Georgina being accosted by Fernley surfaced. She shook them away. The man would not dare do such a thing after last night. But perhaps earlier in the weekend?

“Well, not happened exactly, but Charlotte, it’s her circumstances. Lord Brack, in thanking me for taking Georgie under my wing, also confided how desperate her situation is.”

“He may have mentioned something of it to me as well, though it did not sound as dire as all that.” Charlotte’s conscience smote her. She had not taken in all of Brack’s conversation about his sister because she’d been too busy thinking about Wrotham. “He did say she was miserable, but I thought he referred mostly to her missing her husband.”

“There is of course that burden.” Elizabeth sighed. “However, he told me that the tension at home is very bad indeed. Mr. Kirkpatrick’s daughter, a Mrs. Reynolds, blames Georgie completely for her father’s dismissal of the vicar.” Elizabeth wiped her tearing eyes with her napkin. She seemed to weep at any provocation since her husband’s death.

“Well, that is hardly fair,” Charlotte said, settling to her breakfast. “Mr. Kirkpatrick married them. He must have known the risk in going against the wishes of the marquess.” Georgina had been guilty of nothing but falling in love.

“Oh, Charlotte, Mrs. Kirkpatrick had to actually beg her daughter to take poor Georgie in when Isaac died. She agreed, grudgingly, but the daughter has treated Georgie horribly, more as a servant than a guest in her home. Every day she makes sure Georgie knows she’s there only out of Christian charity.” Elizabeth sniffed. “If that’s what you want to call it. The Kirkpatricks can’t say much to her, though, because they have nowhere else to go. The vicar is still without a parish.”

“I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I truly had no idea. Georgie never said a word.” Charlotte’s conscience smote her. Why had she not realized her friend was suffering so? Georgina had apparently tried to hide her circumstances and succeeded very well in doing so.

Elizabeth ducked her head. “I had several of my old dresses made over for Georgina to wear this weekend. She has had no clothing allowance for over a year. One reason she wore full mourning for so long is that those were the best clothes she had.”

Lord, Georgina had certainly never let on the situation was so dire. How appalling she had not known this. No wonder Georgie had been trying to catch Lord Wrotham’s eye. Marriage to any decent gentleman would be preferable to such an existence. And Wrotham had the makings of an excellent husband . . .

Charlotte stopped as anguish flooded her heart. The idea of Georgie marrying Wrotham was both wonderful and terrible. It would be a brilliant match for Georgina, one that, as her brother had pointed out, might reconcile her with her family. She and the earl had rubbed along well all weekend. Had she not known of Wrotham’s desire for her, she’d have been convinced his affections lay with the younger woman. Who was to say that they might not if given time?

“So, Charlotte,” Elizabeth’s voice jerked her back to the breakfast table, “I thought perhaps you could invite Georgie to stay with you here at Lyttlefield Park.”

Charlotte froze, her mind racing. If Georgie lived here, she would be in close proximity to the earl and could continue to pursue his courtship. In which case, if Charlotte truly wanted to help her friend, she should relinquish her budding tendre for Lord Wrotham.

That thought sent a pang to her heart. Even though the man was a new acquaintance, his charm and physical attractions had captured her interest. And he had rescued Edward. How could she not feel warmly toward him for that act of bravery?

She sighed, then glanced at Elizabeth. It might all be a tempest in a teapot. She had no idea whether Wrotham would choose to woo Georgina or not. However, if he showed any interest in her, she would steel herself to bow out gracefully. Although she’d enjoyed his attentions, it wasn’t as if she’d set her cap for him.

“Georgie would be good company for you and Jane,” Elizabeth continued, so eagerly Charlotte’s conscience smote her again for even hesitating.

“Of course I’ll ask her. That is the perfect solution, isn’t it?” A lead weight tried to settle in her stomach, but she disregarded it. Georgina would be infinitely happier here than in London and she would love her company. “I only wish I had thought of it first.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders dropped, as if a heavy burden had fallen from them. She sipped her tea and smiled broadly. Charlotte hadn’t seen her this content in months. If she could bring about the happiness of two of her friends, she would count herself fortunate, no matter the cost to herself.

Gay chatter down the hall turned her attention to the doorway. “Perhaps I can broach it to her this evening. Let me figure out how to put it so that she does not feel she will be an imposition on me.”

“Excellent.” Elizabeth relaxed back into her chair as Jane and the rest of the ladies swept into the breakfast room.

“What smells so delectable this morning, my dear?” Jane sailed over to the sideboard and began removing the covers. “Oh, I adore kippers.” She grabbed a plate and began to pile her plate with herring fried to crispy perfection. “Maria, child, you must try some. They look quite scrumptious.”

As the ladies filled their plates, Charlotte sipped her tea, biding her time until she could speak with Georgina alone. Now if she could only get the image of the Earl of Wrotham out of her mind . . .

* * *

During the church service, Charlotte pondered her predicament once more. She tried to focus on Mr. Moore, but when he took his sermon from the story of the Canaanite woman, her mind drifted back to Georgie’s plight. Her friend was very proud. Would she agree to whatever aid Charlotte could offer?

She continued distracted on the ride home and throughout luncheon.