Page 12 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
Once Charlotte moved out of Captain Hughes’s eyesight, she slumped down on her horse. It had taken all her energy to stay poised throughout their conversation.
He unsettled her.
Although he was a man of few words, she felt like he could see beyond the façade she put up to the rest of the world. Though she was with him only a few minutes, next thing she knew, she was pouring out her heart to a man about whom she knew next to nothing.
Charlotte straightened her spine. She would not allow such a lapse of judgement again and let her heart control her mind. She ascribed this atypical vulnerableness to theIncident, which was hanging over her head like the sword of Damocles. That must be it, she reasoned, and not that she felt an unexpected connection with the mysterious Captain Hughes.
The only way to control this emotion was to return to reason, as Arthur had always taught her. She took a few deep breaths in and out to calm her mind while she swayed in her mare’s saddle.
I have been through a dreadful ordeal and am not acting like myself. I need to return to being the Charlotte of Shropshire, not the Charlotte of London, she insisted to herself.
Yes, the Charlotte of Shropshire would think reasonably and understand that Captain Hughes was a mere distraction who must be ignored. She had a clear path to achieve her marriage goal: marry a duke.
Charlotte nudged Mirabel into the turn to her aunt’s town house, and rode to the mews, where she hopped off, handing the reins to the stable boy.
“Did you have a good ride, milady?” Daniel looked at her with the wide eyes of a youth on the brink of adolescence who suddenly was interested in the opposite sex.
Charlotte smiled and gave his hair a tousle. “Mirabel was very happy to have room to run this morning.”
He beamed before he led the mare to the stables to wipe her down.
She was thankful she had the foresight to bring along a stable boy from High Crest Hall. While Thomas, Daniel’s older brother, was busy running the stables, Daniel was eager to see London. Their family had managed the Earl of Pulverbatch’s horses for generations, and she knew Daniel would not tell a soul she sneaked out every morning in gentlemen’s clothes for a ride. Moreover, he did not blink an eye when she mounted the horse astride, given she always rode that way in Shropshire. At home, she could ride as she wished, hidden from the prying eyes of London Society.
Charlotte walked through the garden at the back of her aunt’s home, pausing to see if any of the flowers had developed buds. Her favorite season was spring, when the natural world awakened from its winter dormancy and came to life for a new year with endless possibilities. At High Crest Hall, she would walk through the gardens each day to monitor the progress of the perennial flowers breaking through the soil, only their tips visible at first. Then, with each subsequent day, they emerged farther from their underground shelter, reaching for the sun andnourishment. She foolishly wished year after year that spring would bring new beginnings for her, but she was perpetually disappointed. It was as if she were stuck in winter while the world around her blossomed into spring.
Charlotte weaved her way through the paths of the garden, noticing the lilac bushes would soon be blossoming. She reached the servants’ entrance and sneaked up the back stairs. Before exiting the stairwell, she cracked the stair door open and scanned the hallway. It was empty, so she quickly tiptoed to her room, praying the hallway rug would soften her footsteps. Once inside, Charlotte stripped off her menswear and shoved the piles of clothes into the bottom of her wardrobe underneath a blanket. She put her nightgown back on and rang for her lady’s maid, Bailey. Soon her door opened, and a familiar face popped in.
“Lady Charlotte, did you have a nice morning in bed?” Bailey asked in an overly loud voice, making sure the door was cracked open.
“Yes, I have had a relaxing morning lounging about. Can you draw a bath? I’m sure my aunt has grand plans for me today.” Charlotte did not trust the staff at her aunt’s house and was certain Aunt Frances ordered them to report her every move.
Each morning, she and Bailey went through the same farce of a conversation in case one of the servants was lurking in the hallway. Charlotte adored Bailey, who had been her lady’s maid for the past five years. Bailey was the eldest of eight children, so Charlotte appreciated her no-nonsense attitude and the fact that nothing rattled her. More importantly, in Shropshire, she was the only person of a similar age with whom she could talk. Although they had become close, it could not be called a true friendship. Bailey was still a part of the staff and paid to be in her company. In addition, Charlotte could not imagine that a woman of the same age would willingly befriend her. She was theforgotten fifth, after all, and entirely uninteresting.
But Charlotte yearned for a connection with others her age. After meeting Beatrice and Eleanor at the previous night’s ball, she was cautiously hopeful, because deep down, she was convinced they would soon realize their error and ignore her.
Bailey left the room and collected several servants to haul steaming water up the stairs to the copper tub in her bedroom. Charlotte closed her eyes and lay back on the pillows piled near the headboard of the large four-poster bed. She snuggled under the blankets and counterpane and let out a loud sigh, hoping to convince the servants she was an entitled aristocrat, expecting them to wait on her hand and foot. She had to keep this ruse going if she were to protect herself. After some time, when she listened to the servants filling her tub, she heard the door close. Bailey came over to Charlotte and gently tugged on the bedding. Charlotte’s eyes peeked over the counterpane and scanned the empty room.
“Thank you, Bailey, you’re invaluable.” She pulled back the covers and climbed out of bed.
Her lady’s maid quirked her eyebrow. “Life is never boring with you, milady.”
Charlotte walked toward the tub. “I’m fine to bathe alone and will let you know when I’m finished. I’m sure my aunt has given you specific instructions on how I’m to look for visiting hours,” Charlotte said over her shoulder.
“Yes, milady.”
Once Charlotte heard the door close, she undressed and stepped into the steaming water. She sank down into the tub and let the warm water lap over her. She closed her eyes, and immediately her mind drifted back to Hyde Park. She smiled as she pictured the seafaring Captain Hughes uncomfortably sitting upon his steed, with his strong and capable hands tightly gripping the reins.
Suddenly, those same hands morphed into something more disturbing, and bile rose in the back of her throat. A hand wrapped around her neck, depriving her of air. She gasped, trying to take a breath, as her panicked heart raced. A disturbing hue crept into the periphery of her vision and expanded until all she could see was one color: red.
There was blood everywhere.
Charlotte’s eyes flew open, and she gripped the edges of the tub. She sat upright, her chest heaving.
TheIncident.
Charlotte felt like a skittish horse ready to bolt. She trembled as she tried to wrest control of her body from her emotions.
The moment she let her guard down, that fateful day intruded, and wreaked havoc in her entire being. She had tried to convince herself that once she was protected from the law by a powerful man, the memories would stop. Clearly that was not true.
