The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(21)

“It is lovely,” he murmured, praying this new side of her would last.

“Yes. It is beautiful.” Her expressive blue eyes sparkled. “I love the wattle and daub, and the windows. Is it in an E shape?”

“It is indeed. You know your architecture.” He had never before met a young lady interested in old buildings, and his appreciation of her grew. Had Lady Bellamny said something to Charlotte to make her change her mind about him? He had never before been rejected by a woman, and it pricked his pride that the lady he must marry did not want him.

“Did one of your ancestors build it?” She scanned the front of the building as if she was attempting to take in everything about the structure before entering.

“It has been in my family for only about one hundred years.” Con offered her his hand again. “There are knot gardens in the back as well as a maze.”

The massive double doors to the house opened, and a butler emerged. “My lord, welcome. Her ladyship shall be here directly.”

A bevy of footmen swarmed the carriages, then fell back looking confused. Good God. How had he forgotten how singular it would appear for two ladies to arrive with no luggage?

“There is no baggage, Dalton.” Con held out one arm to Lady Bellamny and the other to Charlotte, and he almost sighed with relief when she placed her slender fingers on his jacket. “It will be here later along with my valet and Lady Charlotte’s maid.”

For a scant moment, the butler’s lips pursed as if he had tasted a particularly sour lemon. The man needed to work on keeping his thoughts to himself. “Very good, my lord.”

He escorted Lady Bellamny and Charlotte as they made their way into a grand hall. Removing her hand from his arm, Charlotte stared up at the carved wooden beams darkened by age, then looked down, taking in the checkerboard pattern of the marble tiles in dark blue and white.

Before his mother had moved in, old weapons adorned the walls. They had been replaced by old paintings and even older tapestries.

“One could easily spend a lifetime exploring this house and the grounds,” she said, strolling around as she gazed up at the walls.

“Almost.” Was that a pang of regret in her voice? He hoped it was. “I certainly have not been able to explore it all, and it was not from lack of trying.”

He was congratulating himself at how well things were going, when his mother, a tall woman with russet-colored hair, descended the stairs. Her skin was still flawless. It was as if she had not aged a day since the last time he had visited. Mama glanced from Con to Charlotte, then to her ladyship.

No one could accuse her of being stupid. In the brief time she’d traversed the stairs, he could tell she had apprehended most of the situation. Finally, she was going to get her wish that he wed.

Slowly, Mama’s lips formed a wide smile. “Almeria, I am overjoyed to see you. What have you brought me?”

“As I am to see you.” Lady Bellamny touched Lady Kenilworth’s outstretched hand and bussed her cheek. “You must come up to Town more often.”

The older ladies embraced before his mother turned to him, raising a brow as she did. “Constantine?”

Immediately, he bowed and made a nod in Charlotte’s direction. “Mama, this is Lady Charlotte Vivers—”

“Carpenter,” Charlotte corrected him in a firm but cordial tone as she made an elegant curtsey. “Vivers is my brother-in-law, the Earl of Worthington’s, family name.”

And guardian. Con finally remembered that Worthington was raising his wife’s sisters and brothers along with Worthington’s own sisters. Con tried to keep his back teeth from grinding. At the rate he was going, he’d wear them down before he was much older. “My mistake.”

Perdition. How in hell could he have forgot the name she had given the landlord? Not only that, but she didn’t have the Vivers’ dark hair and lapis eyes. Carpenter? Stanstead? Hell. She must be the old Earl of Stanstead’s daughter and the new earl’s sister. Nothing like feeling a fool.

Not only that, his fumble put paid to the story he’d planned to tell his mother; that he and Charlotte had known each other before.

“Lady Charlotte, my mother, the Marchioness of Kenilworth.”

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Not batting an eye, his mother held out her hand in welcome. One would almost think he was in the habit of bringing home disheveled young ladies whose names he did not know. “I believe we shall take tea in the morning room, and you may tell me what this is all about.” Lady Kenilworth’s eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed at Charlotte and her son. “However, that can wait. Lady Charlotte shall have a chance to rest. You look as if you have not slept well, my dear.”

Although Charlotte’s back was still erect, she seemed to droop, and there was a twinge of something in the region of Con’s heart. She had been through a great deal lately.

“Thank you. I am rather fatigued,” Charlotte replied.

As if she had been waiting to be summoned, Mrs. Moore, his mother’s housekeeper, came up next to Charlotte, curtseyed, then looked to his mother.

“Here you are, my dear.” His mother maintained her smile and the light tone with which she had greeted them. “Mrs. Moore will be happy to escort you to your chamber.”

“If you will come with me, my lady, I have a room ready.”