The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(85)

His hands started to trail down her shoulders and arms, and her fingers roamed his back.

“Where is Charlotte?” Worthington’s deep voice seemed to bounce off the walls.

“Go.” She pushed Con through the door to his room. “I shall meet you in the parlor. Jemmy should be there soon. May said he was with Merton’s valet, dressing.

“I’ll be out in a moment, Matt.” Charlotte blew Con a kiss as he strode through the door.

A minute or so later when he strolled into the parlor, Dotty was there along with Worthington, Charlotte, and Jemmy.

Worthington met Con’s gaze. “I have told Charlotte that I want her to go back to Town with me. She has refused.”

“She told me she would.” He glanced at his betrothed and held her eyes with his. The warmth and love in her gaze told him everything he needed to know. Not bothering to look at his friend and future brother-in-law, he said, “If you would like, before we travel to the Hare and Hound, where she was held, we will stop by Doctors’ Commons, where I shall obtain a marriage license. I am positive Lord and Lady Merton will agree to witness our vows.”

“Only if you’re attempting to get me murdered,” Worthington scoffed. “Grace and the children, not to mention her aunt and uncle, would have my head if they were not present at Charlotte’s wedding.” Rising, he paced the room for a few moments. “Charlotte, does this mean that much to you?”

She kept her eyes on Con, but nodded. “Yes. I must see this through.”

“Matt,” Dotty said, “no one can object to all of us traveling together. And they are betrothed. If you go home and tell Grace to begin planning the wedding, she will ensure the entire ton knows about it.”

“Lady Bellamny and Kenilworth’s mother will be happy to help,” Charlotte added. “Even those who traveled to Belgium will know before a week is out that we are marrying soon.”

Worthington’s gaze flicked from Charlotte to her friend as he appeared to consider their argument. “Very well.” He took Charlotte’s hand. “You are not as easy to intimidate as Louisa was. Then again, I had eighteen years to work on her.” Charlotte flashed him a smile. “I shall have to trust that you know what you’re doing.”

She rose up on her toes and bussed his cheek. “You have been the best guardian a lady could ask for, and I thank you. But I shall take it from here.” She smiled at him. “Grace will understand. I promise you.”

“She had better,” he muttered. “I do not like being in my wife’s black book.”

“Give her my love, and I’ll see you soon.”

Not more than five minutes after he left, a knock came on the door.

“Come,” Dotty called.

A footman opened the door and a middle-aged lady dressed in dark gray bombazine sailed into the room.

“Lady Merton.” The woman inclined her head.

That was interesting. She was either of the same rank as Dotty, or a higher rank. Con studied her carefully from her light brown hair, still free of gray, to her sharp blue-gray eyes that reminded him of... “Jemmy?”

“Yes, my lord.” The lad stood from behind a sofa, and immediately went to Charlotte. What the devil had he been doing back there?

The older woman gasped, her hand going to her throat.

“My lady,” Dotty said, “may I introduce Lady Charlotte Carpenter and her betrothed, the Marquis of Kenilworth. Lady Charlotte, Kenilworth, the Marchioness of Litchfield.”

“Lady Merton told me how this child came to be with you. I commend you, Lady Charlotte, for rescuing him.” Her lips formed a thin line. “There is only one way to know the truth. The boy must remove his clothing.”

Jemmy grabbed Charlotte’s hand. “I already had a bath.”

She glanced down at him. “Yes, I know, sweetie.” Addressing Lady Litchfield, she asked, “For what purpose?”

“If he is who I think he is”—oh good, they were all dancing around the issue—“he will have two birthmarks, one on his shoulder and the other on his thigh. They are both a brownish color.”

“Rather than making Jemmy shed his clothing for a stranger—” She arched a regal brow. Lord, she’d make an excellent duchess, but Con wasn’t giving her up, so she’d have to settle for being a mere marchioness. “—I suggest we call in my lady’s maid. She has been in charge of his grooming and will be able to tell you if he has the birthmarks.”

“A lady’s maid?” Lady Litchfield said, doubtfully.

“Yes,” Charlotte stated firmly. “She has a number of younger brothers and sisters, and has a way with children.”

“Very well, call her in.”

“Will you have a seat, my lady?” Dotty asked, ushering the woman to the sofa as she spoke.

After their visitor was seated, Dotty yanked the bell pull and one of Merton’s numerous footmen appeared. “Tea, please.”

He bowed, and was leaving the parlor as Charlotte’s maid entered.

“You wanted me, my lady?” She bobbed a curtsey.

“I do. May, can you tell me if Jemmy has birthmarks? One on his shoulder and another on his thigh?”

“Yes, my lady. I mean he does. Brown they are, and in odd shapes. One looks like a horseshoe and the other like a bird’s nest.”