Page 14 of Not his Marchioness
“You look busy,” Charlotte noted, glancing at the papers. “What are those?”
“Pamphlets,” Evelyn replied. “We’re opening a new clinic in Whitechapel.”
“You’re not planning to go there yourself, are you?” Charlotte asked, alarm creeping into her voice.
With Evelyn, such things were never out of the question.
“No,” Evelyn said with a half-smile. “If Nathaniel ever found out, he’d leave me a widow twice over. I’ve hired a team of reliable gentlemen to handle it.”
She reached out and touched her sister’s arm gently, a gesture from their girlhood.
“How are you, Charlotte?” she asked. “I’ve read the scandal sheets. They won’t let up. This is positively beyond the pale.”
“I haven’t looked at a single one today,” Charlotte replied with a weary sigh. “I can’t bear it. Though I may have found a solution.”
“You have?” Evelyn’s eyebrows rose. “Have you come to terms with Father? I sent a letter to Nathaniel via express messenger, but heaven knows how long it will take to reach Portugal. I was hoping you would stay here. I’ll tell the servants not to admit Father, should he come.”
Charlotte lowered her voice. “I’ve been worried about Marianne. Father made some terrible threats. Said he’d marry her off to Lord Emery.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “He did not!” she snapped. “The unmitigated gall of the man! So much for his grand reforms. And the moment Nathaniel’s out of the country, he behaves this way? It’s appalling. We cannot allow it.”
“I doubt he meant it,” Charlotte said quickly. “Aunt Eugenia would never permit it. Besides, Marianne is too young. Even the ton would frown upon it. But still, I worry. With my reputation in tatters, it might hurt her chances.”
“You haven’t agreed to marry Emery, have you?” Evelyn asked, narrowing her eyes. “Has Father attempted to force you into a meeting with Emery so they can convince you?”
“Of course not,” Charlotte replied.
Evelyn exhaled with relief. “Good.”
“But…” Charlotte hesitated. “A gentleman did come to me. He made me an offer of sorts.”
Evelyn blinked. “Who?”
Charlotte allowed herself to be led to a shaded alcove, and they sat on a velvet settee. “A gentleman who needs a wife. His reputation is nearly as tarnished as mine, and he must present a respectable face to the Lords. He promised me freedom. I could live as I pleased, with no expectations. Not even to give him an heir.”
Evelyn frowned. “That sounds far too convenient. Who is this man? And why—forgive me—would he choose you, given your reputation?”
“He believes we can be seen as a pair of reformed rogues,” Charlotte explained, her voice low. “It makes for a compelling story.”
“You still haven’t told me who he is,” Evelyn pointed out, arching her eyebrows.
Charlotte drew a breath. “Rhys Ellingsworth.”
“Rhys Ellingsworth?” Evelyn repeated, stunned. “As in the Marquess of Ravenscar?”
“The very same,” Charlotte confirmed.
Evelyn leapt from her seat. “You cannot mean it,” she gasped, blinking as if she had been struck by lightning. He’s quite the notorious rake.”
“I am,” Charlotte pointed out.
“And what did you say? Please tell me you didn’t say yes,” Evelyn cried, pacing now.
“I didn’t say yes,” Charlotte said quickly. “I didn’t say no either. I told him I needed time.”
Evelyn threw her arms up in the air. “You refused to marry Emery—a known rake—and now you’re considering marriage to someone with a similar reputation?”
“I’ve thought it through, Evelyn,” Charlotte stated firmly. “He’s not as bad as Emery. You know the rumors about Emery.”
