The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(94)

“No, no, we must depart immediately,” Dotty said, taking her seat across from Charlotte and Susan. “Merton has ordered luncheon and does not wish to be late.” She cast her eyes to the roof of the coach and sighed. “He is an absolute bear if his meals are late. We simply cannot delay our return.” After settling her skirts, Dotty directed her attention to Susan. “Lady Charlotte, who do we have here?”

“I would like to introduce you to Miss Susan Merryville. Miss Susan, I shall make you known to my dearest friend, the Marchioness of Merton.”

“I am pleased to meet you.” Dotty smiled graciously at Susan.

The girl’s jaw dropped. “I-I never dreamed I would meet a marchioness. I mean, I know Sir Reginald is part of the ton, but I did not know he had such friends.”

Charlotte’s gaze met her friend’s and she grimaced. “Susan—may I call you Susan?”

“Oh, yes, my lady.”

“Thank you. As I was saying, Susan has been telling me how she met her beloved. It is a most romantic story. We have just got to the point that her grandmamma does not approve of his age, and how she did not come directly from Bath, but from Gunter’s.” Charlotte glanced at the girl. “How did you decide to do something so daring?”

“Oh, wait,” Dotty said, thankfully picking up on Charlotte’s pose. “Do not tell me that your grandmamma poisoned your lover to your parents? That would be too bad.”

“That is exactly what she did.” Susan nodded. “When I tried to tell Mama and Papa about him, they refused to even receive him. We had to use my maid and his valet to exchange letters.”

Dotty clapped her hands together. “Ah, billets doux. How romantic!”

Susan glanced at Charlotte, confused. “It is French for love letters,” Charlotte explained. The girl nodded. “But where is your maid? Would she not have wanted to come with you?”

“She did not dare. My mama would have turned her off without a reference. Once the men put me into the coach, and we started to leave, she began to scream so that no one would blame her.”

Dotty leaned forward a little. “Lady Charlotte lives on Berkeley Square. Is that where you live as well?”

“No, I live on Russell Square. We used to live in Cheapside, but my parents decided it was time to move. That is the reason I was at my grandmamma’s.”

“Russell Square is quite lovely,” Charlotte said, “and a much better neighborhood than Cheapside. Although, there is nothing wrong with the area.”

“My best friend is still in Cheapside.” Susan’s tone was glum and her mouth drooped. “I miss her a lot.”

Charlotte wondered if her friend’s counsel would have kept Susan from making such a disastrous mistake.

Dotty’s eyes widened. “I am sure that you do, but I must know, who is this man of which we speak?”

“Sir Reginald Stanley.” The girl practically breathed his name. “Do you know him, my lady?”

“Sir Reginald.” She tapped her cheek and after a few moments smiled. “Why, yes. I was introduced to him. After I married, of course, and very much by accident. He is not received in Polite Society, you know.”

Susan’s face fell, and Charlotte could see all the girl’s dreams of moving in the ton start to wobble. “N-not received?”

“He has a reputation of being a rake and an inveterate gambler. That is not the type of gentleman ladies want around their daughters.”

“But rakes can reform.” The girl rallied. “Once they are wed, of course.”

“Yes, indeed they can. In fact, some claim that reformed rakes make the best husbands, but first he must marry.” Dotty’s brows drew together. “My dear, how thoughtless of me. You are planning to marry him?”

The girl’s countenance brightened again. “Yes, my lady. We are to travel to Scotland.”

“Well, naturally, if you are to wed, that would change everything.” She glanced at Susan again. “How old did you say you are, my dear?”

“Fifteen,” Susan pronounced as if it was a great age.

“Fifteen?” Dotty asked, her voice full of doubt. The girl nodded. “No. That will not do at all. One must be sixteen to marry in Scotland. Unless you have your parents’ permission, that is.” She let the silence stretch for a few moments. “But you do not.”

Susan clasped her hands together in her lap and stared at them. “N-no, my lady.”

“Lady Merton,” Charlotte said, “are you quite sure it is sixteen?”

“Indeed I am. Do you not remember the couple who eloped earlier this Season?” She did, but she was equally sure that was not to whom her friend was referring, but she nodded anyway. “She was not even out. They reached the border two months before her sixteenth birthday and were turned away. Naturally, she will never be allowed a Season, and she is ruined forever.”

Charlotte covered her mouth and gasped. “Oh, yes. I remember now. How horrible it was!” She slid a look at Susan, whose eyes were wide with horror. “My dear Susan, how fortunate you did not go to Scotland.”

The girl promptly burst into tears. Charlotte wrapped her arms around the child and took out her handkerchief, pressing it into the girl’s hands. “There, there. We are here to help you.”