Page 79 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Jane smoothed Charlotte’s hair back, her touch soothing as always. “I think you need to simply wait and see, my dear. It may be the case that nothing happened at all. Or if it did, nothing will come to pass from it. Of course, there are other options you might pursue if there is a child.” She glanced away, staring intently at the still life hung over the bedside table. “You could marry Lord Wrotham.”

Charlotte shuddered and slid lower beneath the covers. “I would never do such a thing to Nash.” She hardly knew how she would face the man, let alone think about marrying him and foisting the child of another man off on him.

“I do not mean for you to marry him without telling him your plight,” Jane said, her lips pinched. “I would never suggest such a dishonorable thing.” Her face softened. “Besides, he knows what happened, Charlotte. He loves you. I believe he would marry you still.”

He did love her. And she loved him. The ache in her heart deepened. How could she tell him she carried another man’s child? If she did. She shook her head so violently pain shot through it once more. “I cannot do that to him, Jane. The child could be his heir.”

“It would be his decision to make. Do you think he will stand by and see you disgraced?” Jane sniffed and rose. “He’d publicly announce you carried his child and force you into marriage whether you liked it or not.”

Nash would do exactly that. And her father would smile all the way down the aisle. Tears trickled down her cheeks, wetting the coverlet. Soon she’d be a blubbering mess. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Time would tell if there would be anything to regret. Until then, she must keep this secret.

“Then we must be careful not to let him know anything.” Charlotte tried to sit up in the bed, in her haste falling back down onto the pillows. “You can make my excuses tonight at dinner and tomorrow. After this weekend I can keep to the Park and live quietly until I know something for certain.”

“When did you have your courses last?” Jane’s voice continued in its matter-of-fact tone.

“About two weeks ago. But . . .” Charlotte bit her lip.

“But?”

“I am never very regular. Before this last time I hadn’t had them since July.”

Jane sighed. “That will make it more difficult to ascertain if you are breeding or not. However, if you have seen nothing after three or four months, or if you become ill in the mornings, I would say you are. We will simply have to wait and see.”

Not simple at all, but she would find a way to endure the wait.

Her cousin headed toward the door, then turned back, fixing Charlotte with a direct gaze. “Your hiding in here will not serve, you know. Wrotham will suspect something. If you are ill both tonight and for the Harvest Home, I daresay Nash will send for Mr. Putnam. I understand the man carries his leeches in a special porcelain jar.”

Charlotte shuddered, torn between the equally real horrors of leeches and humiliation. Jane knew exactly what threats to administer, but this time shame won out. “I cannot meet Nash, Jane. I simply cannot.” Charlotte stopped and stared at her. “They all know, don’t they? All the guests know what happened.” She’d never be able to show her face in society again.

“All they know is that Kersey and Nash became embroiled in a fight,” Jane said, offering a glimmer of hope. “Maria’s entrance prevented any questions about the reason for it. So I doubt anyone save Rose and I, and the three of you, know anything of your involvement. That, perhaps, will be your saving grace. If the earl doesn’t want a more thorough thrashing, he’ll keep his mouth shut.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “One hopes he would have more sense than to brag to his bride about such things. We can act as if you had nothing to do with the fracas, but only if you put in an appearance tonight and at the festival tomorrow.”

Charlotte winced but nodded. Somehow she would find the strength to laugh and talk with Nash as though none of this had happened. All the while chastising herself for not realizing until too late how precious he was to her. A fool indeed.

* * *

More carefree than Nash had ever seen her, Charlotte laughed during dinner and tapped her fan on St. Just’s arm. Seated this time midway down the table from his hostess, he sipped his wine, puzzled. After last night’s events he’d expected a more somber Charlotte, yet here she was, determined to live up to her reputation of the wicked widow. He’d been certain that sobriquet was false; however, with tonight’s performance, he wasn’t so sure.

After welcoming him, Lady Cavendish had kept her distance, moving away whenever he tried to get close enough for a private word with her. She’d watched him, however.

He’d caught her glancing at him throughout the evening, with a frantic air of gaiety he didn’t understand.

Georgina, his dinner partner to his right, played with her wineglass. She glanced from Nash to Charlotte, her small brows puckering. “Has there been any advancement on that front, Nash?”

He shook his head and set his glass back on the table. “I haven’t seen her since . . . I went to London.” Except for the few minutes last night, when he’d seen all too much. God, but he itched to pound the blighter’s face once more. And shake Charlotte until her teeth rattled in her head. She’d said Kersey had invited himself to the party. Didn’t she know she couldn’t trust him an inch? “She’s scarcely spoken to me tonight.” Little wonder after that scene. He sighed, a chill of despair washing through him. What could he do when the woman he loved made it clear she did not love him? One of Dante’s circles of Hell would be easier to live through than his pursuit of Charlotte.

Georgina peered around, then bent her head toward him. “I believe she’s particularly upset tonight. Did you hear about the scandal?” she whispered.

“What scandal?” His blood raced at the word. He’d prayed the fight in Charlotte’s room had gone undetected. “Something happened more scandalous than last night’s little entertainment?”

“I’m sure you had more than sufficient reason to accost Lord Kersey.” Georgie patted his arm. “You really gave him a thorough grubbing. Do you train at Mr. Jackson’s?”

“Yes, I have sparred there from time to time.”

“I daresay Lord Kersey wishes he had done so as well.”

A burst of laughter from the head of the table as Charlotte giggled shamelessly with St. Just.

Nash pressed his lips together so firmly they drew inward. For God’s sake, why was the woman flirting with the marquess? He should not have come tonight.