An Heir of Deception (42 page)

There had to be something they could do—she could do.

An hour later, Charlotte sat in the morning room of her brother’s home. Her sister had met her impromptu call with uncustomary reserve—or perhaps it was despair, Charlotte found it hard to tell.

The truth was, Katie had been withdrawn of late, her smiles now had to be wrestled from her. And in the rare times she gave them, they hadn’t quite reached her eyes. Charlotte wondered if Lucas was the cause of her overall melancholy for as she recalled, Charlotte had noted the change in her shortly after his return to America.

“I am going to have another child,” Charlotte announced.

For the first time in weeks, her sister’s face lit with genuine happiness.

Charlotte rose to her feet as her sister rushed toward her. “Oh Lottie, I am thrilled for you,” she said, embracing her warmly. “Does Alex know?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet.”

“What is it? Are you not pleased?” Katie knew her so well.

With a rueful shake of her head, Charlotte resumed her seat. Her sister immediately came down beside her on the settee.

“Of course I am happy, it’s just hard to be truly happy with
this
threat looming over us. I keep thinking what if this person does expose us? What will happen to us?”

“Oh dearest, you cannot let that ruin things for you,” Katie said, taking Charlotte’s hands in hers.

“But surely the thought has crossed your mind?” Charlotte was certain that had been at least partially responsible for her sister’s unhappiness.

“Lottie, it happened five years ago. And nothing was ever said, isn’t that the most important part? I doubt very much if whoever wrote the letter will bother with us again.” She spoke with such conviction, Charlotte desperately wanted to believe her. But if either of them believed that, there was also a real possibility pigs would fly.

“Why? Because now I am a marchioness and a future duchess? Don’t you see, it’s all the more reason for the person to expose us.”

“Charlotte, we have nothing to be ashamed of,” Katie said stubbornly.

What sort of world did her sister think they moved in? Women in their brother’s set would cut another for wearing the wrong clothes, marrying the wrong sort of man. She and her sister would be lucky if they were only cut and not subjected to Society’s own burning of the witches.

“They won’t see it that way. You know that.”

Katie glanced away briefly and then lowered her gaze. She couldn’t deny it.

Then with startling abruptness, her head snapped up and her eyes were the size of quarter pennies. “You don’t intend to flee again, do you?” Her sister’s expression had gone from downcast to anxious and wary.

“Oh no, of course not. I would not do such a thing again,” Charlotte said, giving her sister’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “Alex acts as if we could withstand anything. But I guess that’s what comes from living a life of privilege. Most think they are invincible, that nothing can touch them, no bit of talk can bring them crashing to their knees. I wish I had his confidence but as you can attest, we both know what it’s like to live life standing on the outside.”

“I don’t believe Alex doesn’t believe anything can touch him, I think the truth is what people think doesn’t matter to him more than you and Nicholas.”

Charlotte’s heart swelled at Katie’s words. “I
do
love him.” He would stand by her come hell or high water. That spoke everything of his feelings for her.

“I know Alex will do everything in his power to protect us, as will James move heaven and earth to shield his family. But neither can adequately protect you, therefore you are who I’m most concerned for. What this kind of revelation would do to you. My greatest wish is that you were married to a man—a good man, a strong man—who’d stand by your side no matter the scandal.”

As soon as the words were out, Charlotte wanted to call them back. Katie’s face paled and a look of hurt flashed in her eyes.

“Darling, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing for which to apologize. You merely spoke the truth.” Charlotte could tell she was being brave, her posture straight, her chin up.

“Is it Lucas? Is he the reason you’ve been cast down lately?” There hadn’t been a day she hadn’t suffered the guilt of sending him away when she knew of their growing attachment. But he’d all but admitted he hadn’t been about marriage. She’d saved her sister the pain of heartbreak in the long run. Or so she told herself whenever she saw Katie moping about.

Her sister shook her head with more vigor than the question warranted. “Lottie, I barely knew him.” She stuttered a bit before saying, “I admit I found him charming for an American, but my feelings went no deeper. I mean truly, he lives in America and I am here. There was no future in it even if my feelings fell along those lines—which of course they do not.”

Charlotte wondered what Gertrude in
Shakepeare’s
Hamlet would have thought of her sister’s protests, which were a little too emphatic to strike a believable note. But Katie had her pride and she’d leave her to it. She’d not bring up the subject of Lucas again.

When Alex had wheedled the truth from Miss Foster, the woman had begged him not to tell Charlotte and Catherine. He’d finally relented but only on the condition that
she
be the one to tell them. This was a secret he refused to keep from his wife. She and her sister had a right to know more than anyone. Miss Foster had promised to do so when she was up and about. Well that had been a week ago and Miss Foster had been declared fit enough to return to work on the morrow. She was to come to the house the same afternoon.

His most pressing concern was his wife. She had become withdrawn over the last two weeks. Over a month ago, they’d begun to take breakfast together in the mornings. Now, it appeared she deliberately waited until he and Nicholas left to go riding before she came down for hers.

When he searched his brain to determine what had changed, he could think of nothing. If not for her recent mood shift, he’d have sworn things could not have been better between them. In bed she was still as passionate and out of bed, still as in want of his company as she’d ever been.

Could she be missing America? It had been her home these last five years. Or perhaps she missed her friends—

Beaumont!

Could it be? Alex thought back to when he’d first noticed signs of her withdrawal. It had been shortly after the bounder’s departure. Alex was sure of it.

But that couldn’t be it. He believed Charlotte when she said she hadn’t had that sort of relationship with the man. Although, Alex couldn’t deny that she cared for Beaumont. She’d said it often enough for her words to still ring in his ears.

And despite the fact she’d sent Beaumont away for him, Alex couldn’t bear to think that the man’s absence had such a dispiriting effect on her. Several times when speaking with her, he turned to catch her staring off in the distance, her mind so obviously preoccupied, he’d had to repeat himself.

Had she been thinking of Beaumont?

That evening as Alex watched her push her food around her plate like a game of ring-a-ring a rosie, he debated how to approach the matter. How to ask her without starting a row. He decided he wouldn’t mention the man directly.

“What is the matter? You appear distracted and you have hardly eaten more than two bites of your meal.”

Charlotte halted and lowered the same fork she’d been using to push the roast pork around the white porcelain plate. “I ate a small meal earlier so I fear it’s spoiled my appetite.” She laughed lightly but the hollowness of the sound confirmed his fears; something was wrong. And once again, she refused to share it with him.

His expression must have conveyed his doubt for her lips curved in another forced smile. “Do not worry yourself over me, I’m simply tired is what it is. What I need more than anything is more sleep.”

Liar.
What ailed her had nothing to do with lack of sleep. It was much more heartfelt than that. He could see it in her eyes. As much as she tried to hide it, it was obvious she was suffering.

Alex hadn’t felt this helpless since…the last time she’d left him.

That night in bed, she was more passionate than usual, clinging to him as if she couldn’t get enough. When his release came, the explosion seemed to go on forever, not abating until the tremors of the aftermath shook his body. Afterward, he held her tight in his arms, hoping that spent and limp in the haze of passion, she would confide in him. He wanted to know, even if the truth proved painful.

Instead, she reached up and pressed a kiss on his lips, her touch both sweet and sensual as her tongue tangled briefly with his. Then quite abruptly, she’d tucked herself tightly against him, damp skin against damp skin and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

Her lovemaking had been needy and tinged with a sort of desperateness one may feel if they were making love to their lover for the final time.

A sense of foreboding swamped him and crept under his skin. Something unpleasant loomed in the horizon and he felt helpless to do anything to prevent it.

The wedding was four weeks away and the London Season was in full swing. In two weeks they would make the trip into town. Charlotte wasn’t looking forward to it. Alex had become withdrawn and her early pregnancy symptoms had not yet abated; the chamber pot now her closest friend.

Nicholas, cheerful and full of energy, was the one truly bright spot in her life. Today Jillian had taken him, as she tended to do with regular frequency, to Rutherford Manor to visit with his cousins. Charlotte was expecting Miss Foster in just fifteen minutes. The fitting had had to be postponed due to the
modiste’s
illness. Alex had assured her Miss Foster had fully recovered. He’d had his own physician tend to her.

Charlotte was making her way to the morning room when Alex appeared in the entrance hall. She hadn’t expected him home for another half hour, his daily rides usually at least an hour in duration.

“Alex, that was—” Her voice broke at the sight of her sister and Miss Foster trailing not far behind him. Katie stared at her wary-eyed, looking about the place as though she’d never been there before, which was absurd. Miss Foster wore a simple tan chambric dress under a fringed shawl and clutched a handful of swatches. But she looked as if her head was next up for the guillotine, not as if there to take final measurements for the wedding gown.

What on earth was going on?

“Shall we repair to the morning room?” With a sweep of his hand, Alex gestured to the open door.

Charlotte’s gaze flitted from Katie to Miss Foster and back. She then regarded her husband. “Alex, what is this all about?” Something was definitely awry.

“You will discover soon enough,” he said cryptically, taking her elbow and leading her to the room.

“Yes, I would certainly like to know what this is all about,” Katie echoed as she preceded them in. Miss Foster complied without a word, the dread on her face becoming more pronounced with every passing second.

Once they were all in the room, Alex closed the door, then turned and addressed the
modiste
.

“Miss Foster has something to tell you.”

Katie’s eyebrows dove together furrowing her smooth brow. For Charlotte, the sense of unease pricking at her became a full-fledged stab. She regarded Miss Foster intently, noting the nervous manner in which she rubbed her gloved hands against her sides and how she couldn’t seem to hold her gaze nor anyone else’s.