Page 16 of Too Wylde To Tame
Frederick wasn’t concerned about making certain he had an opportunity to sit next to Charity. It had already been arranged in advance. He was waiting for her in the foyer so they could walk out together. It was tantamount to acknowledging that there was some sort of understanding between them. That was certainly how gossips would interpret it and he had no problem with that at all. The more people who understood his intentions, the better it would be.
When Charity descended the stairs with Miss Cordelia at her side, he simply watched her with rapt attention. She didn’t wear the pale pastels and white that so many unmarried young women in society did. Instead, she wore what she liked—what she felt suited her. And as he took note of the deep violet muslin that perfectly complemented her alabaster skin, he was inordinately pleased that she did not feel the need to adhere to convention for convention’s sake. Charity had a mind of her own and a will strong enough to ensure that she could give voice to it.
“Good morning, Charity. Miss Wylde,” he acknowledged.
“Good morning to you, Frederick,” Charity replied with a coy smile. Beside her, Cordelia grinned.
“Viscount, it was so kind of you to agree to escort Charity and I about the village today.”
“It is not kindness, Miss Wylde. It will be both a pleasure and an honor. Allow me to take you to the waiting cart. It will be a far easier journey if we are not in the rear facing section of it.”
Miss Wylde shuddered. “Thank you, my lord, for thinking of it. I do sometimes experience travel sickness… But not Charity. She is far more suited to adventure than I am.”
“Hush, Cordelia,” Charity chided softly. “Do not tell Lord Dartwell all of my embarrassing peccadilloes.”
“Well, now I must know,” he insisted with a smile.
Miss Cordelia grinned. “And I shall delight in the telling. Come, cousin, and defend your actions if you can!”
That pleasant conversation with the two ladies set the tone for the ride into town. Cordelia shared delightful anecdotes about all four of them: herself, her sister and her two cousins. And all the while, Charity blushed and protested what she deemed the more embarrassing stories.
For him, they were all a delight. He especially liked the ones about her shimmying down the tree at her parents house to visit a fortune teller.
“What did this soothsayer predict for you, Charity?” Frederick asked teasingly. “That you would meet a tall, dark, and handsome stranger?”
Charity’s lips twisted in a rueful grimace. “Of course, she told me that. Just as she told the twelve other girls that paid her ridiculous fee. We, the lot of us, got the same tale, word for word. Which I only found out because Benny had snuck out with me and heard the same thing.”
Cordelia frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it, but that prediction came true for Benny! She did meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger and they did have a whirlwind betrothal. And by all accounts, they are quite pitifully in love with one another. Perhaps she wasn’t a charlatan, after all?”
He felt Charity’s gaze on him and he smiled in return, a conspiratorial expression he was sure. “Perhaps she wasn’t. Time will tell, will it not, Charity?”
“We shall see, Frederick,”she said imperiously. “We shall certainly see.”
* * *
Jameson had leftRandford House late the night before and made his way into town. There was a tavern there and, from what he had been told, a very friendly tavern maid. Sadly, she’d already been occupied for the evening when he arrived. So instead, he just drank himself into a stupor before passing out on the taproom floor. He might have worried about being robbed if he’d had any actual coin on him. The small amount he’d possessed had already been spent on whiskey by that point.
Staggering to the door, he winced at the bright sunlight as he stepped outside. He reeked of liquor and the general dirtiness of the establishment. Disheveled, with stains on his shirt, and all of his clothes impossibly rumpled, he looked every inch the reprobate that the gossips painted him. Normally, that would not bother him in the least. He’d certainly never made any great effort to hide his wicked ways. But that morning, of all the times to wander out looking as if he’d spent the night doing exactly what he had been doing—drinking and carousing—was decidedly inconvenient. Because just as he stepped foot outside, two carts full of laughing and smiling guests from Randford House were driving by.
It only took seconds for their laughter to die away. It was replaced by shocked gasps followed by furtive whispers. And all of them turned to look at him. Every last person who had decided to participate in their mundane little outing, had seen him at his absolute worst—including Miss Charity Wylde and his damnable brother.
For the first time since he’d made that stupid wager with Ollie Kent, he didn’t bother to conceal his contempt. As they rolled by, he glared daggers at the lot of them. And he felt strangely freed by that. If they wanted to think him a wastrel and rakehell, so be it. If others amongst them would paint him even darker—as a true villain—well let them think it as well. And he would do everything in his power to meet all of their expectations.
Turning, he presented his back to all of them, and strode toward his waiting horse. He’d return to Randford House, pack his belongings and make for London. But first, he’d make a brief stop at the stables to have a minor repair made to his tack. And while the tackhand was occupied with that small chore, he’d take the necessary steps to ensure that his brother did not achieve the happy ending he appeared to be on the cusp of. By the time they all went for their afternoon ride and Frederick suffered his tragic accident, he’d be halfway to London with no one ever making the connection.
A wicked smile twisted his lips. Paying the hundred pounds to Ollie wouldn’t be such a painful experience if the lot of Frederick’s fortune were to fall into his hands first.
Jameson began to whistle, that same dirty little tune from earlier. It was a catchy one to be sure.
ELEVEN
That afternoon, Charity and Cordelia were once more in their room. Ostensibly it was to have a rest after their morning outing, but the truth was that her cousin simply wouldn’t to pester her for information.
“What did he say? Did he ask you to marry him yet? When you slipped away at the church, did he kiss you?”
The rapidly fired questions from Cordelia were enough to make her head spin. Charity held up her hand. “Good heavens. Pick one question, ask it, get your answer and then move to the next! I honestly can’t even remember all of them by the time you get to the end.”
Cordelia grinned. “I’ll start with the important one. Did he kiss you?”
