Page 104 of An Unwilling Earl
Sarah and her parents were there, and that helped Charlotte’s anxiety. Her uncle and his wife were there, too, and they made sure she was well received and well treated. Charlotte had no idea she had so many allies in English Society. For most of her life she had thought the sun rose and set on her parents’ tiny cottage in the country, and then, while living with her aunt, she had been told so many hateful, hurtful things about her parents that she began to think that there was no good left in this world.
It turned out she had just been looking in the wrong place.
Occasionally she would think of O’Leary and his mission tonight, but she chose to believe that finally Edmund would be caught and tomorrow she would wake up to a whole new life, devoid of worry concerning her aunt and cousin.
Jacob had been swiftly taken away from her. For most of the night she had been on her own, but not alone. Armbruster’s mother introduced her to the “most important people.” And when she’d been called away, either her aunt or Sarah had been at her side.
And now Charlotte and Jacob were in their hired coach, on their way home.
“Tired?” Jacob asked, his own voice weary.
“Very.” She snuggled into his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. A sigh of contentment escaped her. How had it become so easy for her to be so comfortable in her husband’s arms?
“I can’t wait to fall into bed and sleep until at least tea time,” Jacob said, covering his own yawn. “What did you think of the ball?”
“I didn’t find it all that bad,” Charlotte admitted. “I was prepared to hate it.”
“I would agree. It’s definitely not something I want to do every night, but every now and then wouldn’t be too bad. I met some men who will be very helpful as I take the reins of the earldom. Did you meet anyone?”
“I met so many people, but I couldn’t tell you their names. Lady Armbruster was very generous to host this ball for us.” Charlotte was having such a difficult time keeping her eyes open, and her brain was screaming to shut down and go to sleep.
“Lady Armbruster thrives on hosting balls. It was generous, yes, but she enjoyed doing it.”
“Hmmm.” Charlotte couldn’t keep her eyes open one moment longer, and she felt Jacob chuckle as he hugged her to him “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get home.”
She felt him kiss the top of her head, and as she drifted away she smiled and thought she heard, “I love you, Charlotte.” But she was probably dreaming that.
The next thing she knew he was gently shaking her awake.
“We’re home. Time to get you to bed.”
She muttered something and practically stumbled out of the carriage.
“Go on up,” Jacob said. “I will pay the driver.”
Charlotte glanced at the carriage. The driver was hunched over the hoof of one of the horses, inspecting the shoe.
“Seems he might have thrown a shoe,” Jacob said.
Charlotte wearily climbed the steps to the townhouse, suddenly sad that they were going to vacate it soon. The house in Hyde Park was ready for them to move in, and there wasn’t much besides Jacob’s law books and their clothes that they would take with them as the Hyde Park house was fully furnished.
At first, Mrs. Smith had been flustered that they were moving, but Jacob had taken her to the new house and had shown her the kitchen she would be in charge of and her new set of rooms, and Mrs. Smith had suddenly been quite pleased.
Charlotte opened the front door and trudged up the stairs toward Jacob’s bedchamber. The house was quiet. They had told Mrs. Smith not to wait up for them as they’d been unsure how late they would be.
Her feet and back ached from standing all night, and her mouth was dry from so much talking. But all in all, she felt it had been a satisfactory evening, and many of the women had promised to call on her as soon as she was settled in her new home. She looked forward to accepting callers in Hyde Park.
She entered the darkened bedchamber.
The smell hit her first, and she frowned.
It smelled earthy. Like a newly turned garden.
She fumbled in the dark for the light and lit it. The dancing flame created shadows that jumped around the room, but otherwise nothing seemed disturbed. Maybe Mrs. Smith had left a window open, and she smelled the newly turned earth of the back garden. With a sigh, Charlotte kicked off her shoes and pulled the wilting flower from her hair, twisting it between her fingers as she glanced at the bed and froze.
There was an odd lump of something black and glistening. She approached slowly, dropping the flower as she pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. It was a cat.
A dead cat.
