Charles Page 12

  “That is most indecent!” Mr. Tenley cried.

  “I heartily agree!” Charles replied. “However, if you wish for an apology for Miss Crawford, I am afraid I may not be able to find one other than I am sorry to have pointed out her lack of a heart.” He turned away from a sputtering Mr. Tenley and a shocked Miss Crawford. “Miss Linton, Miss Barrett, I was sent to retrieve you. Your mother is anxious for you to be at her side should Mr. Marsh arrive early for his second set.”

  “If you will excuse us,” he said to Miss Crawford and Mr. Tenley before leading Constance and Evelyn away.

  “That really was rather rude,” Evelyn said softly.

  “I apologize if I offended either of you,” Charles replied.

  “I am not offended,” Constance said with a grin, “but do not tell my brother I said that. If he asks, I thought it a most dreadful display of ill manners.”

  “I will swear it on my grave.” He shook his head. “I will not say a word of your support of my rudeness, unless, of course, your brother attacks me, demanding the truth. Then, I shall have to reveal it to save what is left of my handsome features.”

  Constance laughed. “That is understandable, Mr. Edwards.”

  “Are you offended, Miss Barrett?”

  Evelyn could hear a hint of anxiety in his voice. “No,” she replied. “But it was rude, just the same.”

  “She plotted to destroy my friend and lied about me in the process, which led to my being accosted in my sleep. I do not take such incidents lightly.” He smiled down at her. “Especially the part about plotting against my friend.”

  “That seems a worthy character trait, do you not think, Constance?” Evelyn asked lightly while her heart skittered at the warmth in both his tone and his smile as he spoke.

  “A very worthy trait,” Constance said.

  “What? Something is worthy about Edwards?” Trefor asked.

  “Yes,” Constance replied. “He saved us from having to tell Miss Crawford the location of her brother.”

  “Indeed?” Henry’s brows rose. “Mary was looking for me?”

  “She was, but Mr. Edwards told her where you are, so she does not need to search any longer,” Evelyn replied.

  “Which was followed by some very direct language about his opinion of what she has done. Very direct. In fact, some would say it was offensive,” Constance added.

  “Indeed?” Mrs. Barrett said. “Well done.”

  “Well done?” Both Trefor and Charles repeated.

  “Yes, well done. A lady who has behaved as she has and has yet to plead forgiveness deserves to be reminded of her wickedness. Therefore, I say well done.” She shrugged. “I may come to like you yet, Mr. Edwards.”

  Evelyn squeezed his arm before releasing it. Perhaps her happiness would not be at odds with her mother’s opinions.

  “You are a clever chit,” he muttered to Constance.

  “Indeed, I am,” she replied before leaving his side in favour of Henry’s.

  Chapter 15

  Three days of visiting Eiddwen House and Mrs. Verity’s later, Charles folded the missive he had just written, carefully pressing flat the petals of a flower as he folded.

  “Finley,” he said as his man entered. “Would you see that this message is delivered to Miss Barrett at Eiddwen House,” he handed his man the letter containing the flower, “and this one,” he picked up a second message from his writing table, “needs to be delivered to Mrs. Verity.” He did not want Arthur or Stephen to think he had abandoned them when he did not call for several days.

  “Right away, sir. And your bag is ready for the morrow.”

  “And yours?”

  “Nearly,” Finley replied.

  “And the carriage has been ordered?”

  “Yes, sir. All, save for my bag, is prepared for our journey.”

  “Good.” Charles paced to the window to look out on the street, and then turned and rested against the frame as he surveyed his surroundings. How had his room changed from one of welcome and comfort to lonely self-existence? The right side of his mouth tipped upward. Evelyn. That was how.

  “Was there anything else, sir?” Finley had paused at the door.

  Mentally, Charles ticked things off of his normal list of preparations for taking a trip. “For the moment, no, I do not believe so. However, I have never taken a journey such as this, so I may have inadvertently forgotten some small thing.”

  Finley gave a small bow and left. His valet knew the reason for his travel, but until Charles returned with a favourable response, no one else in his household needed to know he was considering adding a wife to their lot.

  He chuckled to himself as he lowered into a chair before the fire. None of them would expect such a thing, unless Finley was more loose-lipped than Charles believed. But then, what did it matter if they did know? His brow furrowed as he frowned. He would succeed eventually, even if this trip did not meet with success.

  “Enter,” he called in reply to a knock at his door.

  “Henry,” he greeted with a smile. “What brings you to my home today? Does Miss Linton tire of you already?”

  Henry chuckled. “No, she does not. You were supposed to meet me for lunch at our club.”

  Charles palmed his forehead. “Was that today?”

  “Yes,” Henry replied as he took the chair next to Charles. “It is not like you to forget something like that. Do you care to tell me what has you so preoccupied?”

  Charles shook his head. “No, I would prefer not to.” He leaned his head against the wing of the chair. “However, I do suppose you deserve some explanation for my not showing up when expected.”

  Henry nodded. “I had almost expected it to be because you were with your children or Miss Barrett.”

  “They are not my children,” Charles replied with a scowl. “They are Mrs. Verity’s wards.” Truth be told, he found it difficult to not think of those two boys as more than just orphans and students in need of instruction so that they might acquire a good place in some wealthy person’s home.

  Henry was sitting quietly, just looking at him as if he expected some other reply.

  “Your explanation,” Henry prompted.

  “Oh, yes, right. My explanation.”

  “You are not normally so scattered,” Henry watched his hands as he steepled his fingers in front of him, only glancing at his friend. “Your clear thinking is what has kept you out of many scrapes. Are you certain you are well?”

  Charles expelled a breath in a great whoosh. “No, I am not well. Not in the least bit. My life seems to be turned on end. I find I would rather spend my days teaching children how to tie knots and tend to coats and boots than to spend them lying in bed after a night of carousing.” Charles tossed one leg over the other. “And when I am out, it is always in a well-lit venue filled to overflowing with respectable sorts of people, and do you know what I am doing while I am there?”

  “Dancing, listening to music, watching a play –”

  “Yes, yes,” Charles interrupted, “those things but in addition to those?”

  Henry shook his head.

  “Listening to learn if there is any gentleman in need of servants! Fortunately, I have refrained from inquiring directly at this point.” He shook his head. He had caught himself just before posing such a question twice during the last soiree he attended. His success at the card tables had decreased due to his preoccupation – his pleasant, yet life-unsettling, preoccupation with a beautiful kind-hearted lady whom he wished to see happy with every ounce of his being. She had taken over every facet of his life. It seemed as if he almost lacked any desire to see himself happy. No, that was not it, he corrected. It was that his happiness rested entirely in hers.

  “And do you know how often in the last weeks I have even contemplated some rendezvous with a willing widow? Zero. None. Not once. I find I do not even care to assess the beauties of the season.”

  “And they all pale to Miss Barrett when you do?”

  Char
les nodded. If any of his friends could understand the higgledy-piggledy state of his life, it was Henry. “They do. I do not know of one who has half the compassion Miss Barrett has, let alone her beauty.”

  “I am afraid that does not completely explain your absence at lunch today,” Henry pressed breaking the silence that had fallen on the room after Charles’s admission about Miss Barrett.

  Charles shifted in his chair and sighed. “I am taking a trip.”

  “You are taking a trip?”

  Charles nodded. “To visit Miss Barrett’s father and brother.”

  Henry’s eyes grew wide. “Do you have reason to believe Miss Barrett might be open to an offer from you?”

  Charles scrubbed his face. “I cannot make my intentions as clear to society or her mother as I would like to do while Mr. Marsh is still awaiting her reply to his offer nor while Mrs. Barrett still looks at me with suspicion. I will admit she is more welcoming with each meeting, but if I had her husband’s approval, then, I might be able to present myself to both her and her daughter.”

  “That is, um, an interesting plan.”

  “Is it not still common practice to approach a father regarding his daughter before approaching the daughter?”

  Henry nodded.

  “Then I see nothing wrong with the plan. I do, however, worry about its success.”

  “As any gentleman wishing to claim a particular lady as his wife does.” Henry made a small amused huffing sound. “I do not think I ever truly expected to hear your name and wife in the same sentence unless it also contained something about being discovered or forced to marry.”

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence,” Charles replied dryly.

  “I only say it because I am surprised, but also very pleased to be wrong.”

  “Well,” Charles rose from his seat, “do not be pleased for me until I am successful. Will you ride with me?”

  “Of course. But, I must make an appearance at Linton’s.” Henry followed Charles from the room.

  “I believe I can suffer the inconvenience.”

  “You might be rewarded for your suffering,” Henry quipped.

  Charles shook his head. “Miss Barrett is hiding at Eiddwen House.”

  “Hiding?” Henry asked.

  “Did Constance not tell you?”

  Henry shook his head.

  “Hmm.” That seemed strange to Charles. He had thought that Constance and Henry kept no secrets from each other. “She is avoiding Marsh.”

  “I knew she was not favourably inclined to accept his offer, but I did not know she was avoiding him.”

  “Then, you do not know now either,” Charles replied as he mounted his horse. “I did not think it was so great a secret as for me not to tell you, but perhaps it is.”

  Henry rode beside him. “How do you know she is hiding from Marsh at Eiddwen House?”

  “She told me when I found her there a few days back.” The day when he had laid his heart at her feet, and though she had not immediately picked it up and cherished it, she had not crushed it either. That was the day he had finally admitted to himself that his days as a dissipated scoundrel were through. He had a new purpose in his life. She believed he could be more and would reward him for becoming so, and there was nothing that he desired more than to be all that she expected he could be.

  “And you have been visiting her there ever since, I suppose?”

  Charles shrugged. “For a few minutes each day, yes. Except for today.”

  “Does she know you are going to speak to her father?”

  Charles shook his head. “Only you and Finley know about that. I wish to keep the shame of my failure to a small audience if I should not be successful this time.”

  The comment was met with laughter. “This time? You are determined to succeed then?”

  A sly smile crept across Charles’s face. “When am I not determined to succeed, my friend?”

  “Never,” Henry admitted.

  “You cannot repeat this to anyone.” Charles tipped his hat at a friend as they passed him. “I love her. I have not even told her that in so many words, but it is true.”

  Henry drew his horse to the side of the road and came to a stop, and Charles followed suit. “How much?”

  There was an unusual intensity to Henry’s tone that confused Charles. It seemed an odd question and not one that deserved such a serious tone — curiosity, yes, but such censure, no.

  “How much do you love her?” Henry repeated. “Is it enough to do as you ought even if there is no hope of immediate reward?”

  Ah, his friend was speaking of Fanny Price and how he had imagined himself in love with her but not to the point of giving up all pleasure in favour of responsibility.

  “Yes.” Charles nodded his head. “Though she were to refuse my first application, I would not go seeking another.” He shook his head as the dreadful thought of Evelyn refusing him settled uneasily in his chest. “I do not think I would survive if she did refuse me.”

  “I was refused. I continued to woo her, and yet…”

  “You sought another,” Charles finished.

  “That is not what I was going to say,” Henry protested.

  “No, but it is true. You sought Mrs. Rushworth.” He shrugged. “It is not incomprehensible that a gentleman wishes to discover if his charm is still intact when he had been refused and not given any great hope of acceptance.”

  “And who is to say the same would not happen with you?”

  “Why did you not go in search of another after you nearly kissed Constance in her brother’s home?”

  Henry raised one eyebrow and scowled. “You cannot answer a question with a question.”

  “According to Miss Barrett you can,” Charles replied with a smile. “Now answer my question.”

  Henry’s eyes narrowed. “My heart would not allow it.”

  “Which is precisely why it will not happen to me.” He clucked to his horse. “See how my question answered yours?”

  “Yes,” Henry muttered as he trotted after him.

  “It is an annoyingly effective ploy, is it not?” Charles called over his shoulder with a grin.

  “Indubitably,” Henry replied. “Indubitably.”

  Chapter 16

  “Would you repeat that?” Evelyn stood at the door to her office at Eiddwen House with her arms folded and looked sternly at the two young maids of about sixteen years of age, who were chattering in the hallway. She had thought she heard one or the other of the girls mention a very familiar name, and she wished to know why they would be gossiping about him.

  “I hadn’t meant for you to hear it, ma’am,” Helen answered.

  “Then you should not have said it,” Evelyn retorted. “However, you have spoken, and I should like to hear the full story.” She unfolded her arms and motioned for the maids to enter her office. “You know that spreading tales is a fine way to lose your spot in many homes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rachel replied.

  “Be seated.”

  Her instructions were hastily obeyed.

  “Now, repeat to me what you said in the hall.”

  “I don’t think we should ma’am.”

  Helen looked excessively nervous, which caused Evelyn to raise a brow in question.

  “I really think we ought not,” Rachel agreed.

  “If it is too dreadful to share with me, then it is not something about which one should be speaking. Now, begin.”

  Helen glanced at Rachel, and then, after heaving a great sigh, she began. “I heard about a bet, ma’am.”

  “A bet?” Evelyn repeated. “What sort of bet?”

  “One which is made at one of them gentleman’s clubs, ma’am.”

  Evelyn knew of the practice of some gentlemen had of betting on almost anything and recording it in a book at their club, so that they could eventually collect on the results of whatever contest it might be. “Continue.”

  “Are you certain, ma’am?”

  “Y
es, Helen. I am prepared to hear the tawdry details.” She wasn’t entirely certain she was prepared, but she knew she needed to hear what these girls had to say.

  Helen glanced at Rachel again but continued as instructed. “It seems one gentleman has wagered that another gentleman who claims to be a proficient charmer cannot charm at least one kiss from two respectable young ladies before the end of the season.”

  Dread began to settle around Evelyn’s heart as she pieced what she had heard together with what she had just been told.

  “If the charmer is successful, the other fellow will pay him ten pounds, but if he is unsuccessful, the charmer will pay the other fellow fifteen pounds.”

  Evelyn cocked an inquisitive brow. “Why fifteen? Are not wagers paid out evenly?”

  “It depends on the terms, ma’am,” Rachel replied. “Helen said it was because the charmer was so confident in his abilities that he wagered more than the other fellow.”

  Of course, he was confident in his abilities. Mr. Edwards had charmed many ladies out of kisses and who knew what else in dark corners. She drew a deep breath and released it. “I heard names. What names did you say?”

  “Oh, ma’am, I cannot. He is such a kind man.”

  “Mr. Edwards?” The question cut her heart for she knew it was true before either girl could confirm it.

  “Yes, ma’am, he is the charmer,” Rachel admitted.

  “What other names were included?” Evelyn’s heart thrummed in her throat.

  “Mr. Easton was the other fellow,” Helen answered.

  Evelyn nodded slowly. She knew Mr. Easton. He had always struck her has a respectable sort of gentleman. But apparently, even the respectable-looking gentlemen were not above frivolous betting. There was just something about some gentlemen that made them wish to best one another at nearly everything.