Page 42 of Not his Marchioness (Daughters of the Ton #2)

Charlotte’s chest was still heaving when she arrived home.

“Leave me be,” she called to the coachman, who was getting ready to climb down and help her alight. “I can manage.”

She hurried up the front steps and was about to yank down the door handle when she heard her name.

“Lady Ravenscar? Is everything all right? Has something happened?”

She turned around and, to her surprise, saw Lady Woodhaven standing there. The older woman had a platter in her hand, along with an item wrapped in brown paper.

“Lady Woodhaven. I am afraid now is not a good time. I am rather indisposed.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Lady Woodhaven said, looking her up and down. “What in the world has—”

“Nothing,” Charlotte said quickly. “Nothing to concern yourself with. All shall be well. I simply must return to the house and—”

Another bubble of grief burst out of her, and she cried as she had when she was told that her mother had died.

It felt almost like death, this betrayal.

Why could she not control herself in front of Lady Woodhaven?

The two of them might have come to a better understanding, but Lady Woodhaven was still a lady of high society, and her husband was one of the most conservative gentlemen in town.

She could not see her blubbering and crying her eyes out in the middle of the street.

“I see. Nothing is the matter, indeed,” Lady Woodhaven scoffed. She walked up to Charlotte and wrapped her arm around her. “Come now. We’re going inside.”

She half-dragged her up the steps, knocked once, and when the most puzzled butler opened the door, pushed past him.

“Bring tea for Lady Ravenscar. Chamomile. Strong. Have it sent up at once. Would you care for some laudanum as well?” she asked briskly. “I am sure it is—”

“No,” Charlotte said. “I do not want to be numbed.”

Lady Woodhaven turned back to the butler. “Bring a little laudanum, just in case. We will be in the parlor.”

She ushered her into the parlor.

“The drawing room is more comfortable,” Charlotte argued weakly.

“The drawing room is for entertaining. The parlor is for serious conversation and tears,” Lady Woodhaven retorted. “You have much to learn, my young friend.” She eased her into the armchair by the fire and removed the poker from the hook by the hearth, stabbing it at the dying fire. “Unacceptable.”

She turned to the door and yanked the bell pull. A footman appeared instantly, as if summoned by magic.

“Stoke the fire. Lady Ravenscar is chilled through.”

“Of course, My Lady,” he said, rushing to stoke the fire.

Lady Woodhaven stood next to Charlotte and placed one hand on her shoulder. It reminded Charlotte of the way Rhys had placed his hand on her shoulder the first time they had met Lady Woodhaven.

How strange it had felt back then, to have his hand on her shoulder, comforting her, as though they had been close from the beginning. Now, it felt the same way with Lady Woodhaven. But why? It should not.

The tea came soon enough, and Lady Woodhaven walked with a little sway to the sideboard, picking up a bottle of sherry. She unscrewed it, splashed some into the tea, and slid the cup over to Charlotte.

“Now, you drink that. And take off your cloak,” she said, removing it for her. She draped it over another chair, then pushed Charlotte closer to the fireplace. “Now, tell me. What is the matter?”

“I cannot tell you,” Charlotte croaked.

It was true, she could not. She did not even know where to begin. Besides, up until now, Lady Woodhaven believed what everybody else did—that Charlotte and Rhys had been happily married, the tale of star-crossed lovers.

What would she say if she found out that everything had been a pretense? Would she withdraw her support from the school?

“Why do you think you cannot tell me? I assume this has something to do with your husband?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yes, but I cannot tell you—”

Lady Woodhaven leaned back, crossing her legs at the ankles, her fingernails drumming on the armrests of the wooden chair. “Does this have something to do with his rakish ways? Did your marriage fall apart under the weight of all that pretense?”

Charlotte looked up, her mouth hanging open. “How did you know?”

Lady Woodhaven shrugged. “Please. Your story had more holes than a Swiss cheese. First, you pronounced yourself unwilling to marry Lord Emery—in the most public display, might I remind you—and then suddenly, days later, we are to believe that you and Lord Ravenscar were engaged in a torrid love affair that your father opposed, and which in turn caused you to make such commotion? And, most conveniently, right when my husband and his fellow zealots were pushing the younger lords to reform themselves?”

Charlotte gasped. “Does everybody know?”

Lady Woodhaven scoffed. “I think not. Certainly not the men. In fact, I am absolutely certain that the men do not know. My husband, for example, thought it most romantic. But he has always been a fool. These gentlemen think they are wise, that they run the country with their infinite wisdom and sage advice to the Prince Regent, who, of course, thinks himself the cleverest man in the entire room. In reality, it is we women who steer things. Not all of us. As much as I adore my fellow ladies, they are not exactly the sharpest…” She shrugged.

“But if you knew all along, why did you accept my invitation for tea? Why have you helped me? Why become a—”

“I told you. Young blood is sometimes just what we need. Besides, you remind me of myself. Do you think I have always been this resolute battleship of a woman? No. I was na?ve and full of ideas, wanting to change the world. And I did, in some ways. I used my influence in ways you would not even know. But I have grown complacent. I know what people think of me—that I am this conservative stalwart of a woman who supports her husband no matter what. And I have, in many ways. As far as my husband thinks, I support him in all things. But he does not notice that often he does my bidding.”

Charlotte blinked, momentarily forgetting her own troubles.

“Lord Woodhaven is a good man. Devoted to King—or shall I say Prince Regent—and country. But when it comes to politics, he is not always the wisest. So I advise him. And when he takes my advice, it is because deep down, he knows that I know better. But in any case, you have reminded me of how I used to be. Much more idealistic. I am determined to make a change in bigger ways than I have been able to. That is part of why I agreed to help you establish the school. If it were up to my husband only… Your husband and mine think that they made this happen. But the truth is, it was the two of us.”

Lady Woodhaven paused for a moment, then continued.

“That’s why I am helping you. Because you remind me of my younger self.

Anyway, even now, you sit there, looking like something freshly plucked out of water.

Let me guess—you and Ravenscar thought that if you got married, it would solve all your problems. He could establish himself as a proper gentleman, you could fix your reputation, and get away from that silly father of yours.

And then you fell in love, only for him to revert to his old ways. He never quit them.”

Charlotte nodded. “I did not mean to fall in love with him, but it happened. He has helped me so much with the school. He found the buildings. He has supported me. But all this time, I felt as though we were engaged in a tug of war. Getting closer, then falling apart. But these last few weeks have been almost magical. Real.”

“Until…?” Lady Woodhaven prompted, tilting her head to the side.

“Until I discovered that he broke his promise. He has not stopped going to St. Giles and—” Charlotte looked up. “Please, do not tell your husband. It would ruin Rhys’s reputation. He has fought so hard, and many people depend on him.”

“I will not tell my husband anything. In fact, I thought this crusade to go after the younger lords was foolish, to begin with.”

Charlotte took a deep breath. She knew she had to talk to somebody; it was too much of a burden to bear.

And so she did. She told Lady Woodhaven everything. From the way their marriage had started to the way it had been an up-and-down battle ever since, up until that day.

Lady Woodhaven pursed her lips and shook her head. “I always say that no person is beyond redemption, nor beyond change. But sometimes such a thing takes longer than we would like.”

“I understand that it can take a long time. But what bothers me is that he lied to me. He swore to me that he had not gone to St. Giles, that he had not kept company with any woman. And now I find out that he has gone there,” Charlotte scoffed.

“It is ridiculous, really. This story mirrors that of my sister, Evelyn.”

“Oh?” Lady Woodhaven raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Nathaniel, my brother-in-law, was also something of a rake. Perhaps not a true rake, but he never expected to inherit the dukedom and therefore did not take his future role very seriously. When he and Evelyn got married, he found himself rather in love with her, but he did not tell her. And she did not tell him that she felt the same. When they had just found their way to one another, my father lied to her and told her that he had seen Nathaniel at Westcott. You are familiar with it?”

Lady Woodhaven grimaced. “Of course. That wretched club.”

“Well, under the circumstances, Evelyn believed my father. She and Nathaniel almost parted ways, when he had been innocent. Now, here I am, also married, also deep in love, about to part ways with my husband because he attended a certain establishment. Only, in my case, he truly was there. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Perhaps there is more to it,” Lady Woodhaven said softly.

“I am not a na?ve woman. I understand what men are like. But I must say, I have seen you with your husband many times, and he seems devoted to you. Genuinely devoted. I cannot imagine him throwing everything away for a night with a lightskirt.”

“But he did. I saw it myself.”

“Perhaps you ought to speak to him. Tell him what you saw. He may have an explanation.”

“No,” Charlotte uttered, setting her teacup down with a clink. “I know what I saw. I cannot look at him. I do not want to look at him.”

Lady Woodhaven patted her hand. “In that case, I suspect it would be best if you went away for a while. Distance may yet bring clarity about what you both want. Is your aunt still in town?”

“She is.” Charlotte nodded. “With my sister. But I do not want to see them. Not like this.”

“Very well. I have a cottage in Brighton. You can stay there. I will write you a note for my housekeeper. She will make sure that you have everything you need. In the meantime, if you wish, I will speak to your—”

“No. You need not speak to him. If anyone should speak to him, it should be Nathaniel.” Charlotte did not say the last part aloud. “I would rather he did not know you were involved in any way.”

“As you wish. However—” Just as Charlotte had risen, Lady Woodhaven called her back.

“Pray, you did not tell me why you decided to follow him. You said that he had been behaving oddly, and that you were led to believe he was seeing a woman at a certain establishment. How were you led to believe this?”

Charlotte turned back to her. “A note. Someone sent me a letter saying that he would be there tonight, and that if I followed, I would see for myself.” She paused, remembering another detail.

“It was Lord Emery who first tried to convince me that Rhys was still engaging in debauchery, and I did not believe him. The sender is allegedly a mutual acquaintance.”

“Or perhaps it was Emery himself. He did not take it well to be so… shall we say, unceremoniously dismissed,” Lady Woodhaven pointed out. “I would not put it past him to have engineered something.”

“Engineered that Rhys would be exactly where the letter said he would be at that very hour? I have thought of this. And yes, it is likely that it was Emery who sent it, or had somebody else send it. But in any case, it does not matter. He may derive joy from knowing that he has caused me great pain. But it does not change the fact that Rhys was there. With a woman. I saw him. And he lied to me.”

Lady Woodhaven nodded. “Very well. Then it must be as it must be. Pack your belongings. Go to my cottage. Wait a few days—a few weeks if you must. And perhaps you will figure out what you must do in the future.”

“What of the school?” Charlotte asked suddenly, for she had not thought of this until now.

“Do not fret. I will continue the work we have started. Once I have found suitable teachers, I would like you to come to London to help me speak to them. But an interview can be conducted through letters as well.”

Another thought came to her. “If Rhys and I are no longer—that is—”

“Society need not know. You just told me that it was always the plan—for you to part ways, with nobody the wiser. It is true. No one needs to know. There are a great many couples who are together only for pretense. Now, go. Clear your mind and your heart.”

When Lady Woodhaven had left, Charlotte summoned the coachman. However, as she was about to board the carriage, she realized something. She did not want Rhys to know where she was going. He might follow her, and the coachman was bound to tell him the truth.

No, she would make her own way there.

“Take me to Hyde Park Corner,” she ordered.

She would hire a coach there and make her way to Brighton.