Rules of Surrender (31 page)

Wynter had been so intent he’d leaned close to hear Charlotte whisper her vows, then proclaimed his fidelity and loyalty to her in firm tones that resounded throughout the church. The reception was equally distressing, with guests consuming an amazing amount of food and drink, and as the liquor disappeared their reticence had, too. They had openly reminisced about her original inglorious refusal of Lord Howard, then compared it to the current scandal with Wynter. Predictably, they hadn’t censured either Lord Howard, who was drunk as a stevedore and staring at her broodingly, or Wynter, who had disappeared for over half an hour. No, each weighty sin had been placed squarely on her shoulders, and she, Miss Priss, couldn’t answer with the pithy responses she wished. Instead she had to sit politely and smile at the guests’ ill-timed quips.

“Here comes the groom. ‘Bout time he returned.” Mr. Read squinted through his alcoholic fog. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Cousin Stewart asked.

“He’s got a couple of women with him,” Mr. Read answered.

Mr. Read was obviously a disagreeable man in need of a sharp rap across the knuckles.

Cousin Stewart, on the other hand, chuckled softly. “If there is one thing I have learned about Wynter in the last few weeks, it is that he’s a single-minded man. And only a simpleton would imagine that he is anything but devoted to the new Lady Ruskin.”

Looking down at her new rings, Charlotte thought how true his statement was. Wynter was devoted to her. As devoted as any man could be who kept his heart untouched and his wife in her place. Even her aunt Piper had a better lot than that, although it had taken thirty-five years of living with Uncle to get it.

“Charlotte, see your gift.” Wynter sounded proud of himself, as proud as Leila when she brought her a bouquet of wildflowers.

“Charlotte!”

She recognized the voice, but thought she was dreaming.

“Charlotte, we came for your wedding!”

Pamela’s voice. Hannah’s voice. She looked up and saw them, her two best friends, one on each of Wynter’s arms. She stared, thinking she was hallucinating, thinking this was impossible and too wonderful for words. She wanted to sing and shout, to hug them and tell them how happy she was to see them.

Instead, she burst into tears.

CHAPTER 27

Charlotte sat on her dressing stool in her bedchamber while Pamela and Hannah removed her ivory veil and gloves, and put wet cloths on her forehead. This was no small storm, but a great breaking of the dam of grief she had stored up for nine years. Or even since the death of her parents. Heaven knew she hadn’t cried like this within her memory.

When the worst of the tears had passed, she hiccuped, “I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t you apologize,” Hannah said.

“Don’t try to stop, either.” Pamela sounded furious. “That husband of yours… did you see him? When we carried you off, I thought he was going to come in here with us and demand you be delighted.”

A huge sob escaped from Charlotte.

Pamela handed her a clean handkerchief. “I told Hannah you must be disconsolate at being forced to marry, but we had no idea… we would have come sooner…”

“I never thought… you would come…”

“He
insisted.” In an exasperated gesture, Hannah pushed her own hair back. “We liked him for that! He sent his own carriage to get us here for the wedding.

But we couldn’t leave immediately. We have found Pamela a position, and—”

“A… position?” Charlotte took a quivering breath. “Oh, Pamela… what?”

“For Lord Kerrich.” Pamela shrugged uncomfortably. “Very temporary, but very lucrative.”

“A shabby conspiracy, if you ask me,” Hannah said.

“If I can succeed, I’ll earn as much in two months as I did all last year, and while caring for
one
small child.” Pamela’s smile broke through at the thought of so much money. “Hannah, you must see why I’ve taken it!”

“I understand,” Hannah said darkly. “But I don’t approve.”

Alarmed, Charlotte asked, “Is it legal?”

“Yes,” both the friends said together.

“You’re not to worry.” Wringing out a cloth, Hannah knelt at Charlotte’s side and pressed it to Charlotte’s wrist. “You know I would never allow Pamela to do anything disreputable, no matter how much money was offered.” She shot a glare at Pamela.

Pamela flounced to a seat.

“But after one encounter with Kerrich,” Hannah continued, “I can assure you he is a man so spoiled by wealth and privilege he never thinks of another’s feelings.”

“No one will get hurt,” Pamela said. “You must trust me.”

Charlotte and Hannah exchanged a troubled glance. Pamela’s family had been well-bred and wealthy. Then, in a dreadful turn of events, they had lost everything. Her mother had died from lack of care, and from heartbreak. That left Pamela more determined to succeed than either of them put together. Nevertheless, Charlotte and Hannah worried that someday Pamela’s ambition would lead her astray.

Not this time, Charlotte prayed.

“Besides, we’re here for Charlotte’s sake, not to talk about me and my assignment.” Pamela came and knelt beside Hannah at Charlotte’s feet. “This is a beautiful manor, Charlotte, and you must be very rich now.”

Hannah elbowed her. “Money does not buy happiness.”

“No, but it certainly helps get you into the better shops.”

“Pamela!” Hannah snapped. Pamela subsided, and Hannah turned back to Charlotte. “Has Ruskin… hurt you?”

“No, of course not.” Blowing her nose into a final handkerchief, Charlotte dropped it on the pile on the dressing table. “Only at first when he started talking marriage, I thought he was jesting, or trying to seduce me. Then he deliberately compromised me, and I discovered he was serious, and there I was right back where I started. Facing marriage to a man who would do no more than tolerate me.”

Now Hannah and Pamela exchanged a glance.

“A remarkable tolerance that sends such a beautiful carriage to get your friends to your wedding.” Hannah picked her way through a perplexing situation. “The carriage broke down, you know, or we would have been here on time. When we didn’t arrive, he worried and sent a second vehicle to rescue us… Charlotte, he seems thoughtful and kind.”

“He is,” Charlotte exclaimed. “I don’t mean to malign him! He is… he tries… he has kindness in him.”

“Is it the children?” Pamela asked. “Do they resent you?”

“I love the children, and they love me.” Charlotte thought of how perfect they’d looked today and how well they’d behaved. This was their debut, and forever they would be remembered for how they deported themselves at her wedding. Right now they were hosting their own children’s reception in the playroom, and she had the satisfaction of knowing she’d helped them to blend in and never, ever become objects of scorn.

Hannah’s mouth drooped. “Then, Charlotte, I must suppose you are unhappy because you hold in your •heart a secret desire that he love you.”

“It is no secret,” Charlotte answered.

“You don’t want that,” Hannah said. “A man doesn’t love like a woman does. When a man loves, he wants you to do as he says without question. He wants you to exist for him only. He is an autocrat of the worst kind.”

“You just described Wynter.” Charlotte swallowed yet another sob. “And I assure you, he doesn’t love me.”

Pamela was looking at Hannah strangely, but now she turned to Charlotte. “How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“You thought he was trying to seduce you by telling you he didn’t love you?” Pamela tried to remain solemn, but her natural grin broke through. “Someone is bewildered. Me, for one.”

“You don’t understand.” And the situation was too complex for Charlotte to explain. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ve wed him, and as Pamela says, my future is secure. I’ve been too often without resources to dismiss that.” A thought struck her. “What will happen to the Governess School?”

“We were talking about that on the journey here.”

Pamela rose and with mock sternness said, “We’re going to cut you out as a proprietress.”

“So I can’t come back to teach others how to be governesses?” Charlotte pulled a long face.

“But we will allow you to be our patron.” Hannah rose, too.

“I would like that.”

“You’ll be needing a new governess for your stepchildren,” Pamela said, “and we know a place which provides expert placement.”

Charlotte laughed, startling her nervous system with the abrupt change between tears and amusement. “We’re going to need a tutor for Robbie soon, too. Can you handle that?”

“Absolutely,” Hannah said happily. “With your help, I foresee many placements.”

“From the look of Lord Ruskin, I think she’ll need a nursery maid within the year, too,” Pamela said softly.

The three friends struggled to comprehend that one of them could be a mother.

Charlotte struggled to comprehend that she might someday cradle a life within her womb.

“Charlotte, try to be happy,” Pamela begged.

“Don’t ask for so much,” Hannah added. “You have his name and his fortune, you say he’s kind and his children love you. Settle for that.”

Put like that, it seemed logical. But—“I can’t. I want everything.”

“Of course she does.” Pamela embraced her. “And she’ll get it, too. Charlotte’s strong.”

“So she is.” Hannah was troubled, but she put her arms around both of them and hugged them tight. Then she said, “Pamela, we should go and enjoy the reception, and allow Charlotte to tidy herself.”

“I’m not returning,” Charlotte answered. “I shall stay here—all night.” She saw the glance Pamela and Hannah exchanged, and held up her hand. “Don’t try and talk me out of it. I know what I’m doing.”

“Aren’t you afraid Lord Ruskin will turn to another?” Pamela asked.

“No.” Of that Charlotte was sure.

Hannah said, “Aren’t you afraid he—”

“I’m not afraid of him at all.”

Her two friends nodded, and tumbled out the door as if they couldn’t wait to escape. Apparently Charlotte was the only one not frightened by Wynter’s mystique.

As soon as they left the bedchamber, she turned the key in the lock. The thick door was strong oak. The hinges and lock were sturdy iron. She was safe here.

The lengthy storm of tears left her calm and resolute. She was married. She’d been left with no choice in the matter. But she didn’t care how much Wynter seduced, persuaded and insisted, she was not going to allow him in her bed. The struggle between them had come down to this, and if she succumbed to his blandishments, she would be the loser. She couldn’t give him what he wanted—a wife who willingly surrendered to him in every instance.

Besides, when she thought about the passion he had taught her… but she couldn’t think about that. When she imagined how his nude body would feel against hers, he had already won.

Her things had been removed from this chamber. She peeked under the comforter. But the bedding remained on the bed. She had nothing to drink or eat, but such craven attention to physical needs never won a battle. Most prisoners of principle were not so fortunate in their lodging.

She shrugged uncomfortably under the weight of the gown. She couldn’t loosen the tiny buttons down the back, and must therefore sleep swathed in the weight of heavy satin, but she could remove her shoes and stockings. Sitting in the window seat, she took them off and sighed at the relief of wiggling her toes in the plush rug.

And her petticoats. She would be much more comfortable without them. It was too bad that she couldn’t, as Wynter always advised, remove her corset, but—

No. She wouldn’t think about Wynter’s advice, or the way his voice lowered to a husky whisper when he tried to coax her out of her clothes. He was her husband. That gave him enough authority without allowing him the freedom of her mind.

Standing, she untied the petticoats from around her waist. She let them drop to the floor, and promptly felt so much lighter she could almost dance to the tune drifting up from the ballroom. She used to be quite a good dancer—

Someone tried to turn the doorknob. Something thudded against the door.

She jumped so hard she bit her tongue.

Then a hard knock reverberated throughout the room.

She hadn’t a doubt who stood on the other side of the door. She had, she realized, been waiting for him. But she hadn’t expected he would arrive quite so quickly.
Be firm,
she cautioned herself.
Remember your resolution.
“Yes?” She
sounded
firm and resolute.

“Lady Miss Charlotte.” He sounded firm and resolute, too. In fact, he sounded rather harsh and furious, and her fortitude quailed. “Open the door at once.”

“I will not. I told you I wouldn’t share your bed, and I mean it.”

“I told you you had until the wedding day to prepare yourself, and I am a man of my word.”

“Yes. Well.” She grinned at the sturdy, locked door in a sudden attack of lightness. Not even a big, muscled, irate barbarian could get through that door. “You don’t have a lot of choice, do you?”

He struck the door with his knuckles. “Open at once.”

“No.”

“You do not care what our guests think of your obstinacy?”

“No.” In fact, in the most wicked corner of her soul, she reveled in besting him.

“So you refuse?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you might.” He sounded grimly pleased. “Charlotte, stand as far away from the door as you can.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t understand what he meant or why he said that.

“Charlotte? Are you standing back?”

“Y-yes.”

The blast shook the floor and shattered her eardrums. The lock fell away and splinters went flying. Wynter kicked the door so hard it bounced against the wall. And there he stood wearing his djellaba—and holding a smoking pistol.

CHAPTER 28

“
My
lord?” Charlotte quavered.

Her new husband swept into the room with the speed and fury of a wind off the desert.

“Wynter?”

Never slowing, he tossed the pistol onto her marble dressing table and removed one of the gold cords around his waist. She tried to scramble aside, but he caught her wrists. He tied them together, twirled her around, and bound a soft scarlet cloth around her eyes. Before she could catch her breath to berate him, he turned her again. He dipped, and with his shoulder in her midsection, he picked her up and headed for… where?