Page 7 of The Seduction of Lord Sin
Charlotte’s late husband, the Earl of Clayton, had never gotten over his first wife and had never shared her bed. After her sisters had safely married, Charlotte honored the marriage and stayed. She focused all her love and care on her step-daughter, Dharma. The little girl, having recently lost her mother, clung to Charlotte. Charlotte lost her heart to the little girl, and Dharma loved her in return. But she’d paid the price for the marriage. A man who never came to her bed. A widow at seven and twenty, she had no children of her own, but during the almost five long years, her love for Dharma sustained her.
But Dharma would marry soon and begin her life with her husband, and have a family of her own. Charlotte wanted that, too. Now free to marry again, this was her chance. But no man was knocking at her door. Why would they? Society thought her barren. She’d been too ashamed to tell anyone that her husband had never come to her bed, and who would believe her now? And men of their social standing needed a son—however, it didn’t take her long to understand some men needed something more—money.
Dharma had not liked her idea of a house party. She thought it demeaning and scandalous. But her step-daughter had beauty, breeding and youth on her side. She’d left yesterday to visit with Lady Devlin and her daughter Rosaline, who was the same age as Dharma so as not to “bear witness to this monstrosity” or be tarnished should the details of this party leak out.
On a sigh, she turned towards Flora, easing some weight off her sore right buttock. “I thought you wanted to help me plan some of my ‘activities’ for this party. I have three events planned. Can you think of any others?” Her friend eyed her as if to say this conversation was not over. She loved her for thinking she could make a man like Lord Sinclair fall in love with her. Flora could. She was a typical English beauty with a creamy complexion. Of medium height, she looked like a dainty doll next to Charlotte’s, almost six feet.
Flora giggled. “We have an archery contest. A fishing contest. And a trip to the seaside. What about a feast for your tenant’s children? That would be a way to review how the men interact with children and those below their social standing. A kind man is worth far more than a handsome man. Looks fade.”
She lay back and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “After my talk with Lord Devlin tomorrow, I may end the house party early.”
Devlin had been a young man when she’d had her first season, about the same age as her, and back then at that young age, he definitely was not looking for a bride. He was also one of Tobin’s friends and had stayed with them at Clayton House and at Ivy Close many times. He had always been pleasant. Her heart leapt as she remembered the way he had smiled at her today. He was so handsome and she could do a lot worse than selecting Lord Devlin. Perhaps this charade of a week was not really necessary, yet something held her back from speaking with Devlin frankly and openly about both their precarious positions and needs.
She felt a twinge of guilt because if he had a choice, he would not be here, but his father had made Lord Devlin one of the most desperate of her guests.
The memory of Lord Sinclair cradling her in his arms flooded her body with heat. She tried to settle her racing heart. How on earth was she to concentrate on making a sound decision as to a future husband with His Grace under foot? Sinclair did not need the money.
“Lord Devlin is a handsome man and a nice one at that, but would you be happy together? I think you should take this week to find out before making a rushed decision.” Flora reached across the bed and took Charlotte’s hand in hers. “You deserve to have a man who could come to love you. There is nothing so all-consuming than being loved.”
Why was love never simple?
She liked Devlin and he was very handsome, but she’d already been married to a man who didn’t want her. That Devlin would come to resent her filled her with dread.
She let go of Flora’s hand. Being softhearted would not find her a husband. She could not wait for love. At almost nine and twenty, time was marching on—friendship and mutual respect were all she needed. As long as she got her children.
Then why did His Grace’s face fill her head and stir her body? Why did her heart long for what Flora had with her husband? A tiny voice screamed that perhaps she could have both—love and children. But what if she waited and missed her chance? She wanted children so badly.
She remembered the baby smell when she held one. She wanted the chance to have a babe at her breast.
She’d watched her fellow debutantes, all marry and bear children, and for six lonely years she yearned to hold a babe in her arms. She’d have gone mad if she’d not had Dharma and been godmother to Flora’s three little girls.
Now she was free and she would make her dreams come true. She’d had to wait a whole year during the mourning period, and then she’d waited six further months hoping a potential new husband would come calling. Now here she was, a widow still, and closer to thirty than she’d like.
Since becoming a widow, she’d made no secret of the fact that the late Earl’s will left her this hunting lodge with its small estate, and made the provision that she receives twenty-thousand-pounds as a widow’s portion. A very considerable sum. Had he left her such a sum, knowing she would need money to attract a husband because he felt guilty for the reason?
All women of social standing understood their primary function was to produce an heir. Only a man without issue, who desperately needed money more than an heir, would risk chaining himself to a woman who was barren.
A man who was desperate, like Devlin.
Tobin had known she longed to remarry and have children, but he also assumed she was barren. Still, he’d practically thrown every one of his bachelor friends at her over the past six months since she’d come out of mourning. He’d tried to help her, yet all of his friends did not need money, and were looking for a much younger, shorter, and fertile bride.
Her cheeks heated remembering how she’d overheard Lord Channing tell Tobin, ‘I hope your father left her a large widow’s portion, for that is the only thing your stepmother has to help her procure a husband.’ Tobin meant well, but… Lord Channing’s cruel words gave her the idea. If moneywasall that would secure her a husband, then she would embrace her ‘only’ option. When Lord Toobury caught her crying at the ball, and ascertained the reason, he agreed with her solution. His wife was still alive then, but she’d died in childbirth six months ago, so Lord Toobury had actually sought out an invitation. She liked Lord Toobury. He was a kind man and he had very young children who needed a mother.
But she would be more suspect this time. The man must be willing to sleep with her. She wanted a child. At least of all the men coming, she had two sound options, Lord Devlin or Lord Toobury. Why did Lord Sinclair’s face swim into view?
She had invited men she knew needed her money to this house party, and by the end of the week, she would announce her engagement.
* * *
Flora left Charlotte’s bedchamber and leaned back against the closed door on an enormous sigh. She’d tried to talk her friend out of hosting this party. Even James had tried. Charlotte had it in her head that this was all there was for her. Flora just wished a man could see what she saw—a woman in her prime, intelligent, loyal, courageous and so giving.
Charlotte would make some man a wonderful wife.
Devlin was the problem. Charlotte had targeted him instead of looking for love. She wanted to save her friend and his family, but really Charlotte was protecting herself from rejection, too scared to risk being hurt.
Flora needed to get Devlin out of the way, to encourage Charlotte to look further. It should not be too effortless for her friend to take the easy solution. She bit her lip as she began walking down the hall. She’d seen Devlin’s disappointment when he’d learned Dharma wasn’t here. Did he favor Dharma?
Only one way to find out. Flora strode towards the writing desk in the library. Her idea was scandalous, but necessary. She’d bring Dharma home. She’d seen Lord Devlin in London at Lady Skye’s ball. He’d never taken his eyes off Dharma. Dharma could also save Devlin… Perhaps Dharma and Devlin would make a better love match.
