The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(22)

“Thank you.” She smiled gratefully.

That was the first time Con had seen her smile since . . . well, since she discovered his name. He didn’t know what had caused this complete turnabout in her attitude, but he was grateful for it.

Once Charlotte and the housekeeper had ascended the stairs and turned into the east wing, Mama flew into action. “Dalton. We shall want tea and whatever else Cook has on hand at this hour of the day.”

In an attempt to escape, Con bowed. “Lady Bellamny, thank you for your help. Mama, I shall see you after I have rested.”

She glanced at him, both eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. “Not so fast, my boy. Before you do anything else, I shall have this story from you.”

Without waiting for him to reply, she took Lady Bellamny’s arm and turned on her heel, leading the way to the back of the house.

He followed the ladies down the corridor. At least he’d get to tell his story without Charlotte interrupting, and enlist his mother to his cause.





Chapter Eight


Charlotte followed Mrs. Moore up the grand staircase to a large, pleasant room overlooking a rose garden edged by what looked to be boxwood.

A tub and screen stood before the fireplace, which had been lit and was already warming the bedchamber.

“I’ll send her ladyship’s dresser to you.”

“Thank you.”

The door closed behind the housekeeper, and Charlotte rubbed her arms, more to stay awake than for warmth.

A few moments later, a light rap sounded on the door before it opened and a woman carrying a linen nightgown entered the chamber. “Good morning, my lady, I am Gray.” She looked around the room, then, seemingly satisfied, asked, “Shall I help you undress?”

“Yes, please,” Charlotte repeated. Unlike last night at the inn, she longed to change into nightclothes, sink into a soft bed, and sleep.

Despite Lord Kenilworth being in the house, she felt as if she was safe. Even a rogue such as he would not accost her in his mother’s house.

“I shall clean and brush your garments while you sleep.” The dresser’s voice was soothing, easing her into a feeling of contentment. “I understand your maid will arrive later today.”

“She will.” Thankfully, Lady Bellamny had taken care of that.

Charlotte turned, allowing the maid to unfasten the back of her carriage gown, when she remembered the dagger. “If you will give me a moment, I must go behind the screen.”

Gray pointed to a door nestled between two bookcases. “You will find the garderobe through that door.”

“I shall be just a moment.” Charlotte strode into the small room. There were shelves with folded cloths to one side. She removed the dagger and holder, placing them behind the cloths, then returned to the main chamber.

While Gray was undressing Charlotte, she had the opportunity to think back. She had been surprised to see how young Lady Kenilworth appeared. Even as she had come to greet them, Charlotte could see her ladyship’s flawless skin. Other than some small lines radiating from Lady Kenilworth’s eyes, there was hardly a wrinkle to be seen.

She had not appeared old enough to be his lordship’s mother, and Charlotte thought the lady could be a step-mother like Lady Worthington, now Lady Wolverton, was Matt’s step-mother. Yet, her ladyship’s eyes were the same beautiful leaf green of Kenilworth’s, so they must be related.

It had not been until Lady Kenilworth had mentioned resting that Charlotte had allowed herself to flag, and suddenly the hours of travel and very little sleep had caught up with her all at once.

Charlotte raised her arms, and the dresser slipped the nightgown over her head. Charlotte covered her mouth, hiding a yawn.

Gray ran a warming pan under the top bedcovers. “Well, now. Let’s get you into bed, my lady.”

A moment later Charlotte was tucked under the bedcovers, the door had closed on the maid, and nothing short of another abduction could have stopped her from succumbing to Morpheus . . . except—a plaintive chirp sounded from the basket—Collette.

Charlotte threw the covers back. How could she have forgotten her kitten?

She must be much more tired than even she had thought. After opening the basket and seeing to the poor kitty’s needs, she set Collette on the bed and climbed back in, snuggling the kitten next to her. “Now we shall have a nice nap. Once I’m rested I shall find a way out of this ludicrous betrothal.”

The bed was soft, the curtains closed, but still sleep didn’t come. Lord Kenilworth could not wish to wed Charlotte. Indeed, earlier at the inn he had not even cared enough about her to notice she was ignoring him. Then when he had given his mother her wrong last name, he had not appeared at all contrite for the mistake he had made. He clearly possessed no proper feelings. Yet another reason not to marry him.

Well, what more could she expect from the man—she would not call him a gentleman even though that was his rank—who bought a woman’s body? Women’s bodies.

Most likely, he merely did not wish to face Lady Bellamny’s ire by refusing the betrothal. That must be it. Even Matt and Merton did not like to get on the wrong side of her ladyship. The more Charlotte considered it, the more convinced she became that Lord Kenilworth would be happy to be rid of her.

That settled, she began to feel sleepy again. There was nothing to worry about. If all went well, she would be home tomorrow evening at the latest.