Page 49 of To Tame the Wild Rake
“Eleanor, you cannot seriously compare Aldridge and Haverford.” By the time Haverford was Aldridge’s age, he had been a byword for corruption and dissipation.
Eleanor glared down her nose at him, her chin jutting pugnaciously. “You have no idea. You have not suffered as I did. You don’t know how Haverford berated me—what he called me every time my courses came. Even worse when a pregnancy failed. I dread that for Charlotte.”
“Aldridge is not Haverford,” James repeated, pity for Eleanor’s sufferings softening his anger at her meddling.
“Not in many ways, James, but in this, yes. Would you expect me to discount a thousand years of tradition and throw away all my work for the sake of something as ephemeral as a Grenford in love?”
“I would expect you to allow two adults to make their own decisions, Eleanor.” James picked up his own coat and his hat, and offered Sarah his arm before turning back to the duchess. “It seems I have greater faith in your son than you do. He is a fine man, grown far beyond the reputation that still clings to him.”
“But James…”
James ruthlessly overrode her. “I would happily give my niece into his keeping, with every confidence. Their love is demonstrably of the kind that endures. As I understand it, the connection has survived nearly eight years, and the direst of experiences.”
He stopped once more before walking out the door, and refused to soften as Eleanor sank back into her chair, tears running down her cheeks. “I believe love of the kind that builds a family of the future to be more important than slavish adherence to the customs of the past. I am deeply disappointed that you cannot feel the same way.”
24
Charlotte needed to speak to Anthony face to face, to tell him about her inability to give him an heir and see whether he still wanted a future with her. For she was not sure how she would live without him. She sent a message, asking if she might visit, and received a polite reply signed by a secretary. “I regret to inform your ladyship that Lord Aldridge is away from town. I will ensure he receives your message when he returns.”
After some thought, she made enquiry at Blasingstoke’s parsonage, but the vicar and his wife were also away from home, and the servants denied all knowledge of Lord Aldridge.
“I cannot talk to him if I do not know where he is,” she grumbled to Sarah.
“You can sit around and mope until he returns, or you can come out with me and Nate this evening,” Sarah suggested.
What if he does not return?Charlotte was not going to say the words out loud, fearing to make them more concrete. The mental image of Anthony staring into the Thames from Westminster Bridge kept reverberating in her mind. She had always known he was haunted by a deep strand of melancholy, but he would not go that far.Would he?
She was in no mood for a rout or a ball, but she had accepted the same invitations as Sarah a fortnight ago, and it was too late to send her regrets. She put herself in the hands of her maid, and was ready by the time Sarah and Nate arrived in their carriage.
Her first hint that something was wrong was in the reception line. She smiled a greeting at an acquaintance, who suddenly found it necessary to turn away to speak to someone else. It kept happening, and a space opened up around the three of them—a space surrounded by backs, frowns, and the hum of whispers.
When they reached the reception line, the hostess flushed a deep red. “Lady Charlotte... I did not expect... that is...” She turned to her husband, who spoke to Nate. “Under the circumstances, Lord Bentham, perhaps it would be best if you took—er—the sisters home.”
Nate’s face had turned to granite and his voice was icy. “What circumstances would those be, Lord Fenton?”
The man cast a desperate look around him and stammered, “No smoke without fire, what? Best just to go home.” His wife slipped her hand into his and he pressed her hand to his heart, before pleading, “Look, Bentham, my wife has planned this for weeks. Don’t make a scene.”
Nate stood his ground. “What. Circumstances.”
“Not the place to talk about it,” Fenton insisted. “Ask me tomorrow. Ask anyone. It’s all over town.”
They’ve found out about me and Aldridge. Charlotte touched her brother-in-law’s arm. “Let us leave, Nate. We are not welcome here.”
“I will remember this, Fenton,” Nate commented, his statement all the scarier for its conversational tone.
They left, Charlotte on one of Nate’s arms and Sarah on the other, the crowd separating before them as if afraid of contamination.
Uncle James had not gone out that evening, having shelved his plans to attend the Opera after the altercation with the Duchess of Haverford. He was in his study with Yousef, but called through the open door when they arrived.
Drew was there before them. “Bad evening?” he asked.
“That prat Fenton threw us out,” Nate told him. “Something about ‘circumstances’.”
“Circumstances, eh?” Drew commented. “The manager of my club told me, very politely, that my membership had been temporarily suspended pending investigation of ‘circumstances’.”
“Did the club or Fenton give you any information about these ‘circumstances’?” Uncle James asked. He had poured each of them a brandy, even the twins, and was handing them out.
Another arrival in the hall proved to be Jamie and Sophia.
