Wed Him Before You Bed Him (28 page)

As he stared at her, stunned by her words, she slipped from the room.

You cannot forgive me for breaking your heart years ago. And I doubt you ever will.

How could she even think it? It wasn't true, damn it!

“My lord,” Pinter said beside him. “We should go. We have much to do.”

David nodded numbly. Charlotte was never going to forgive him for his deceptions. And that meant he'd lost her for good.

F
or the next few days Charlotte tried not to think about David. It didn't help that Bow Street runners swarmed over the school for two of those days, questioning the servants and staff. Thankfully, the fall term had ended last week, so there were no girls around to gossip and spread news to their parents about the school's being involved in the investigation. But the teachers were present, and according to Terence, had praised her and defended her honor most vigorously.

With the papers full of speculation about Sarah's murder, she was grateful for her staff's support. Not to mention their discretion, since so far her connection to the investigation had not been mentioned in any story. The press was too busy chewing over the official statement from the magistrate's office, something about a diary it was looking for. At least Mr. Pinter seemed to have moved the focus of his interest from David, for the papers said that David had gone off to the country.

Without a word to her, without trying to see her alone? She should not be hurt, given her final words to him, but she was. She had not expected when they parted that she would not see him again.

With the Bow Street men now gone from the school, she struggled to bury her hurt and avoid her staff's questions. She kept busy assessing the school's financial situa
tion. Acknowledging that she could no longer hope to find a place near London, she began investigating moving the academy into a more remote area where she might afford to rent a large enough building to house her pupils. Buying was out of the question. She lacked the money.

David was willing to give you thirty thousand pounds to buy property. And you threw it back in his face.

Of course she did! He was arrogantly trying to manipulate things to his advantage, to cover up his crime.

She sank onto the settee in her private drawing room. Crime? Giving her low rents for fourteen years? Loaning her money? Advising her in areas where she couldn't possibly have had any expertise?

“He lied to me, curse him!” she shouted to the empty room.

Yes, and there had been no mistaking his remorse over
that
.

Tired of the incessant thoughts running through her mind, she laid her head back and closed her eyes, but that only made things worse. This was where David had first kissed her after their years apart. This was where he'd nearly ravished her. For all his manipulating and controlling, he had not planned
that,
she was almost certain. It had seemed to take him as much by surprise as her.

Was she being unfair to attribute darker motives to him? Perhaps he was no clearer about his own feelings than she was. And perhaps she had been a trifle hard on him that day in Mr. Baines's office.

Or perhaps he had recognized that she was right—that he could never forgive or forget what had happened between them in their youth. Why else had she not heard a single word from him in days?

Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. Why had he not fought harder for her? Why had he run off to the country instead, without telling her where he was going or what was happening with the magistrate's office?

Lifting her head, she strove to quash her tears. She was a fool to even be wondering—had she not decided to put an end to their mad affair? To stop him from hurting her anymore? She had as much as told him that at their last meeting. So why was she crying because he had taken her at her word?

“Mrs. Winter and her children are here, madam,” said Terence's voice from beyond the door.

She shot up from the settee. Good Lord, she had entirely forgotten that this was the day she and Amelia had arranged to meet. Before she could do more than draw out her handkerchief to wipe her eyes and nose, Amelia was bustling into the room, tugging along two adorable little girls.

“Mrs. Harris, it's so good to—” Amelia broke off as she caught Charlotte surreptitiously dashing away her tears. “Oh no, what has happened?” the young woman said as she rushed to Charlotte's side.

That only started Charlotte crying again, harder than before.

“Terence,” Amelia said, “would you take the girls down to the river landing to see the ducks? They're very fond of ducks.”

“No,” Charlotte choked out, “I-I want to visit with your girls…”

“And you will. Later.” After waving off Terence and the children, Amelia urged Charlotte to sit back on the settee. “For now, I think you and I should talk.”

Charlotte needed no more invitation than that to throw herself into Amelia's arms and start sobbing again.

Amelia took it all in stride, stroking her back, soothing her with soft words. After Charlotte had finally gained control, Amelia murmured, “Dare I guess that this has something to do with my husband's cousin?”

Charlotte nodded. She considered how much to tell Amelia, then realized she need not hold back anything from her. What was there to hide? She had to tell
someone
about David. She needed a female confidante, and Amelia would understand better than anyone, since she knew David better than Charlotte's other friends.

The whole tale came out: what had happened between her and David years ago, how he had come back into her life, the supposed legacy from Sarah. She left out only the fact that she and David had shared a bed, saying he had been courting her while helping her look at properties.

But when she got to the part about David's being Cousin Michael, Amelia gazed at her in stunned amazement.

“Lord Kirkwood?” she queried. “
He's
Cousin Michael? Are you sure?”

Charlotte gave a mad laugh. “As sure as I can be.” She told Amelia everything that had happened at Mr. Baines's office, including what she'd said to David at the end. When she was done, Charlotte asked, “Do you think I was wrong to say those things to him? Do you think I am wrong now to be so angry at him?”

“About his deceiving you? Absolutely not.” Amelia scowled. “A plot for revenge indeed. Next time I see my husband's cousin, I shall give him quite the tongue-lashing. How dare he lie to you and plot against you, all because you wrote some silly letter!”

“You don't understand,” Charlotte said. “Thanks to my ‘silly letter,' he was publicly vilified for months and months. I heard that whenever he walked into a room, mothers hid their daughters. Imagine having to face that every time you went into society, yet never even knowing why I had humiliated him so. He had no clue that I had seen Giles with the maid. One moment, I was promising to consider marrying him, and the next I was mocking him in a most public forum.”

“Yes, but to engineer a plot to set you up for failure! That is abominable!”

“I quite agree.” She blew her nose. “Still, he did not go through with it. And to be honest, without his vile plot, this school would not exist. I would never have been able to save enough money to begin it on a teacher's salary. And it would have been years before anyone even considered making me a headmistress. Thanks to him, I realized my dream. It is hard to hate him for that.”

“Ah, but you can hate him for lying to you about Mr. Pritchard. What would have happened if this had gone on until Mr. Pritchard evicted you?”

“David would not have let it go so far. I know it.”

“How can you be sure of that? My goodness, the man invented a fake legacy just to keep from admitting the truth to you!”

“He invented a fake legacy because he knew I wouldn't take the money otherwise. And he was right about that. If he had come forward and told me he was Cousin Michael that very first day, I would have demanded to know everything. Once I heard he had done it out of revenge, I would have thrown him out and never spoken to him again.”

She glanced up to find Amelia smiling ruefully at her.
“Do you hear yourself, my friend?” Amelia said. “You defend him at every turn. You must not be quite as angry at him as you think.”

That was the trouble. Every time Charlotte summoned up her moral outrage, she thought of the stricken look he had worn in Mr. Baines's office. She remembered the many times he had said rather harsh things about Cousin Michael. Had he even then been feeling guilty about his deception?

Worst of all, she remembered how sweetly he had made love to her at Stoneville's property. He might not have said he loved her, but he had shown it in so many ways—trying to protect her from Pritchard, pushing her to move the school, offering her his own money…

“I do not know what I feel anymore,” she admitted. Tears welled in her eyes again. “And now he has left town, and I cannot even see him to find out.”

Amelia hugged her. “Oh, I think you
do
know what you feel. You just don't want to admit it. It sounds to me as if you've already forgiven him.” Drawing back, she took Charlotte's hands in hers. “It sounds to me as if you're still in love with him.”

Charlotte stared bleakly at her friend.
Was
she? It was quite possible. Why else was she so miserable without him? Why else did the thought of never seeing him again send a knife through her heart?

He might have deceived her and manipulated her all these years, but he had also been a friend to her. A good friend, if she were honest about it.

“What am I to do?” Charlotte whispered. “I don't know if he only pursued me out of some long-suppressed desire to revenge himself for what I did to him. Or if he really cares
and just cannot admit it to himself. I need to know that.”

“Of course you do.” Amelia squeezed her hands. “Do you still have the letters he wrote to you as Cousin Michael?”

Charlotte nodded. “Mr. Baines gave the magistrate's office his originals, so I still have the copies that were delivered to me. I have kept every one.”

“Perhaps you should look there for some sign of what Lord Kirkwood really feels for you. I know he was playing a role, but I doubt that even my husband's Machiavellian cousin could hide himself entirely from a woman he cared about.”

“Or from a woman he secretly hated.”

“Exactly. You said that his anger leaks out whenever he speaks of the past. It must have leaked out in his letters, too. Perhaps if you can read them in the cold light of day, you can determine if his anger is at you. Or at himself.” Amelia arched one eyebrow. “And if you can read them without wanting to strangle him for deceiving you, then you'll know how
you
feel as well.”

Charlotte managed a smile. “It is a good suggestion, thank you.”

“You're welcome. I owe a great deal to what you taught me here, so the least I can do is offer a bit of advice now and then.”

Impulsively, Charlotte hugged Amelia. “Oh, you do more than that, my friend.” When she drew back, she squared her shoulders. “Now, let us go see how your daughters are faring with Terence. I don't think he is used to dealing with girls quite that young.”

As they headed out to the river landing, they spoke of the school and Amelia's children. But Charlotte was still
aware enough of where they were going to tense up as they neared the river.

And Amelia was astute enough to notice. “Still uneasy around the water, are you?”

Charlotte sighed. “I keep thinking I will grow out of this silly fear, but I never have.”

“Did you know that Lucas has a fear of closed places? He spent two days trapped in a tunnel at Dartmoor, and he gets very uneasy whenever we are belowdecks on a ship or confined somewhere in a small room. But he always manages to fight back his fear.”

“I should dearly love to know how he manages that.”

“Mostly he talks, to me or to whoever is near. He rattles on about whatever he can think of, and I do my best to help by saying outrageous things to make him laugh. He says keeping his mind on something other than his surroundings helps.”

“I shall have to try that sometime,” Charlotte said, though she doubted anything so pedestrian could ever make her feel easy on the water.

The girls spotted them just then and uttered a glad cry. Five-year-old Isabel, with chestnut curls and eyes as blue as her father's, broke into a run to meet her mother, while black-haired, three-year-old Emily toddled less swiftly toward them.

“Mama, Mama, Mr. Terence showed us the river wherries!” Isabel cried as she threw her arms about her mother's legs. “Can we ride in one? Please, please?”

“Not today, sweetie. Perhaps another time. We're going to have tea with Mrs. Harris instead.”

Isabel gazed up at Charlotte with wide eyes. “Will there be plum cakes?”

“There will be lemon cakes,” Charlotte said, charmed beyond words. “Will that do?”

After they all trooped inside, an ache settled deep in her chest as she watched the girls with their mother. Would it be so bad to marry David, even if he did not love her? Or could not
say
he loved her, at any rate? They might have children together. After all, she was not sure she was barren.

And he would expect you to give up the school to raise those children, and be Lady Kirkwood.

Yet even that might be worth it, if she thought he truly cared for her.

As soon as Amelia and her sweet girls left, Charlotte headed to her private drawing room and pulled out David's letters. For several hours, all she did was read. Now that it was too late, she saw David in every turn of phrase, every acerbic remark. But though his arrogance was blazoned upon every page, there were flashes of kindness, too. Like when he showed such concern for her staying alone at the school over the Christmas holidays. Or when he blamed himself for what had happened with Lucy.

That letter in particular arrested her. He had written it shortly after his wife's death. Despite his grief, despite everything he must have been dealing with, he had taken time to assuage her guilt over Lucy's disappearance and blame himself for it.

With her heart racing, she flipped back to the letter he had sent the night of Sarah's death, the one he had been delivering while his wife was being murdered. It was full of assurances that if Diego Montalvo proved a blackguard, David would make sure the man was packed off to Spain.