Page 32 of To Tame the Wild Rake
“They seem very content,” Aldridge commented, as he and Charlotte took their turn to stand out of the line in the set.
“They are,” Charlotte assured him. “I have never seen Sarah so joyous. When she found Elias, she said she had all she needed in life, but there was always an edge of sadness—and now it is gone. She and Nate complete one another, I think.”
And now Sarah was with child again. Charlotte didn’t mean to sigh. She hoped Aldridge wouldn’t think her jealous of Sarah’s happiness. His comment showed he understood, as he turned his head to watch his half-sister Lady Hamner skip down through the pattern of the dance, her eyes fixed on her husband. “I see Matilda and Charles, so absorbed in one another and their new baby the rest of us might as well not exist. And I am happy for them, of course. It makes me wistful, though, Cherry.”
Wistful described her feelings perfectly. Longing not for the husband her sister had found, but for one of her own. She was so pleased with his understanding that she accepted his request for another dance, this one a waltz, and then regretted it when he put his hand on her back, just above the waist, and the uncomfortable sensations that only he inspired possessed her again.
She hunted around for a topic of conversation to cover her confusion. “I see Jessica is dancing with the Earl of Colyford. Didn’t I see her in his curricle in the Park yesterday?”
Aldridge pulled a face. “My mother says he is courting her, and he is certainly assiduous in his attentions. He even brought his daughters over to visit us while we were in Gloucestershire—his own place is just the other side of Cheltenham.”
“That certainly sounds as if he is serious, Aldridge,” Charlotte commented.
“If so, he is taking his time about making his intentions known. He has not spoken to me, or to the duchess.” He sighed. “Nor to Jess, either. I asked her.”
Charlotte turned her head to watch the other couple as she and Aldridge passed them. “He doesn’t seem to be paying his addresses to anyone else. I wonder what he is waiting for.”
Aldridge grimaced again. “Who knows? I suppose it will fall to me to ask his intentions, Cherry.” Another deep sigh. “And once Jess is settled, Frances will be making her debut, and it is all to do again.”
Aldridge is lonely, too.In some ways, he is lonelier than I.Charlotte might no longer live with Sarah and see her every day, but they were still friends. She had also become close to her cousins and had other ladies she could discuss things with, including Aldridge’s sister Jessica.
Who did Aldridge have? He was friendly with his half-brother, but there was always a constraint between them—a carefulness from both sides, as if each feared they could destroy the relationship with a false word. His brother Jonathan was much younger, and had made one short visit to England since leaving in 1807.
As for friends who were not related, she remembered hearing that Baron Overton from northern Lancashire and Aldridge had once been inseparable, but he seldom came to London. Aldridge had broken with Richport long before her botched kidnapping. At social activities such as this one, he talked cheerfully to all sorts of people, but relaxed with none.
I am his friend.
Her mind kept turning that over as he walked her back to her sister and those of her cousins who were present.A friend, yes, but this attraction between us. It gets in the way.
What would happen if she acted on these physical urges? After all, what would it matter as long as no one knew? She would never marry. And it could not mean much to Aldridge, after all the women he had been with. She was afraid, of course. But how wonderful it would be to overcome that fear, and to know, if only once, what made her sister and cousins appear to melt when their husbands looked at them with heat in their eyes.
It could never be enough. She wanted a husband, a family. She was ruined and barren, so barred from both, but perhaps she could have a lover. No. Not just a lover, for other men still repulsed her. But Aldridge. Perhaps she could have Aldridge.
The thought, once it occurred, would not go away. An affair with Aldridge. Or, if not an affair, at least a single night. Could she manage it without anyone finding out? Did she dare?
The manager of the bank in Alvechurch did his best to talk Wharton out of withdrawing all his funds. Wharton allowed the impertinence. In some of his earlier personas, he would have crushed the man like a bug, but as Stephen Wheeler, a manufacturer of buttons, he was a mild, even placid man.
The Beast would be glad to leave Stephen behind.
His next persona awaited him, and the funds that had been deposited in Wheeler’s account were now needed. They had come first from overseas and later from the Duke of Devil’s Kitchen followed by the Beast, proprietor of Heaven and Hell. All against the eventuality that he would need a bolt hole. And he had.
It had been boring. Stephen Wheeler was a boring man, which was part of the disguise, but also meant that Stanley Wharton was not able to indulge his tastes as he preferred.
The next persona, Stirling Whailand, who owned property in Whitechapel and was about to take up residence there, would enjoy much more scope for the games that Stanley liked to play.
Particularly the game of revenge. The Winderfields and the Grenfords were back in London, and Stanley’s, or, rather, Stirling’s, spies were already in place, ready to report.
Wharton had been collecting information about his enemies for years. His treacherous sister–who would be dead by now if the assassin he sent after her had done his job–had kept meticulous notes about the information her harlots collected from their garrulous clients.
He had thought he could bring Sarah Winderfield down with what he knew about her. Who would have expected that her marriage was valid? But what he knew about Charlotte Winderfield was even more explosive. And better still, Aldridge loved the bitch. If Wharton destroyed her, he would strike a blow to the heart of the man he most hated.
The Duchess of Haverford thought Aldridge should come with her. “It is only as far as Oxford, Aldridge, and we need only stay a few days.”
“Mama,” Aldridge pointed out, “I barely know the people who have asked you to be godmother to their baby daughter.”
“The Fisherhams, Aldridge. Marina Fisherham was one of the organisers of the Frost Fair auction early last year. A lovely girl. Of course you would be welcome, dear, invited or not. You are handsome and charming and practically a duke.”
So that was what this was about. “A lovely girl with a younger sister, Mama. No matchmaking, remember.”
