Page 52 of An Unwilling Earl
“His Lordship is in meetings all day,” Mrs. Smith told Charlotte when she came down for breakfast. It was the same thing Mrs. Smith had told her every other morning, and Charlotte wondered what it was that Jacob did all day.
She knew he was a solicitor, but she wasn’t certain what, exactly, that meant.
As usual, she took breakfast alone, eating a piece of buttered toast and drinking a cup of tea. Mrs. Smithtsk-tskedas she did every morning. Mrs. Smith thought Charlotte should eat more, fatten herself up.
Today she would visit Cotton and make firm plans to get to America. She wished she had the clothes that she had come here in. Wearing a gown like this would make her conspicuous. Dressed as a woman of better means meant that she would be a target for all of the thieves and pickpockets, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now.
“There is someone here to see you,” Mrs. Smith said, appearing in the dining room, her eyes round and the dust cloth fluttering in her hand.
“Me?” Who was here to see her? Unless it was… Was her aunt here? Had she discovered that Charlotte was living with Jacob? “Who is it?” she asked breathlessly.
“Said his name was Chadley.”
“Chadley? I don’t know a…”
And then it occurred to her who Chadley was. Her uncle.
“The Marquess of Chadley?”
Mrs. Smith sniffed. “He didn’t say nothing about being a marquess.”
Charlotte took a deep breath to tell Mrs. Smith she didn’t want to see Lord Chadley. Send him away.
Her entire life she’d avoided even thinking of her mother’s family, and now her uncle was in the next room. He’d come to seeher.
There was a small part of her that wanted to see him. In her mind the Marquess of Chadley had been an ogre—an ugly man with green skin and horns. Of course, with age she’d realized that he was just a man—ugly on the inside but probably not on the outside.
“Where is he?” she asked. After all, one didn’t just send a marquess away. Shewasin Jacob’s home. She couldn’t be rude on his behalf—even though this was his fault and she certainly was not happy about the situation.
“In his lordship’s front room.”
Of course. Jacob desperately needed a formal sitting room. It just didn’t do to put a marquess in a home office.
Nervously, she smoothed down her gown, a white, fluffy creation with sprigged flowers with still too many ribbons, even though most had been removed. Absently she tugged on the short ends of her hair then tucked them behind her ear.
She was far more nervous to meet her uncle than she should be. After all, it was his family that had abandoned her mother. Nevertheless, her legs were trembling as she made her way down the hall and opened the door to Jacob’s office.
He was standing at the window, twisting his hat in his hand. He turned when she entered, and she was startled to find that he was young. Far younger than she had expected him to be. He had blond hair nearly the same color as hers, swept straight back off his forehead, and darker blond expressive brows. His nose was thin, but his smile wide yet guarded.
She looked for similarities, but other than the stories her papa had told her, she had no memories of her mother.
“Miss Morris.” He seemed hesitant, unsure, and she was pleased to see she had the upper hand in this meeting. It gave her a small boost in confidence.
She curtsied. “Lord Chadley.”
He took a step toward her, halted, and stood there, awkwardly clutching his hat.
“You look like her,” he said softly.
Charlotte swallowed, not expecting him to say that. Unexpected tears clogged her throat. She looked like her mother.
I look like my mother.
He looked down at the hat in his hand and turned the brim. “It’s uncanny.”
And her aunt had called her mother a whore. That had always made Charlotte so angry.
“Why are you here?” she asked.Why now?was what she really wanted to say.Why not when we needed you the most? Why not whenIneeded you the most?
