Page 92 of Not his Marchioness
“Yes,” Charlotte replied. “I suppose it is simply that these last few days have felt like a dream. I never imagined we would have Christmastides like this again, with the whole family gathered. Well… except for Father.”
“And we will have many more,” Marianne assured her. “All is well now. After all, with you and your husband reconciled, everybody is happy.”
Charlotte nodded. “Yes. Although I fear that this gathering has been a little taxing on Rhys.”
“Has it?” Marianne arched an eyebrow. “I have not noticed. He had been utterly charming and forthcoming.”
“He has,” Charlotte agreed, lifting her hand. “It does not matter. I wish you a safe journey to Nathaniel and Evelyn’s. I shall see you in a few days.”
Marianne embraced her once more.
Aunt Eugenia kissed her on both cheeks, and then the two were gone. Margot had already left earlier that morning for Harcourt House. She had been going back and forth these past days, spending some time with them and some time with Charlotte.
Now, only Nathaniel and Evelyn remained on the pavement.
Nathaniel bowed to her and climbed into the carriage, while Evelyn stepped over to squeeze her hands.
“I will see you soon. But where is Rhys this morning? I have not seen him yet.”
Charlotte shrugged.
It was strange that her husband had not come down to see their guests off, but she assumed it was part of his struggle to adapt tothis new domestic order. Their relationship was still fragile, so newly re-formed, that she could not blame him for feeling a little awkward about it all.
“I imagine he is still sleeping,” she offered. “But he looks forward to seeing you soon.”
“As do I,” Evelyn said, hugging her sister. “Now, I do hope that peace has finally found its way into your marriage. He seems to adore you.”
“And I him,” Charlotte admitted. “He is wonderful.”
“Good.” Evelyn smiled warmly. “I am happy for you.”
After one last kiss on the cheek, she climbed into the carriage, and then her family departed.
Charlotte drew a deep breath and turned, looking once more at the house that was now her own. How strange that only a few months ago, she had stood before it with her aunt, uncertain what the future would hold.
She climbed up the steps when suddenly the sound of hooves rang out behind her. Turning back, she spotted a rider dismounting swiftly.
“A letter for Lady Ravenscar,” he announced, bowing and handing it over.
“I am she,” Charlotte replied, taking it at once.
Her stomach flipped, for she feared the letter might be from her father. She had dreaded the season for that very reason, knowing he always chose birthdays or holidays to attempt contact with the family. Yet she did not recognize the hand.
After thanking the rider, she went back into the house. She sat in the drawing room and broke the seal. She did not recognize it either.
Lady Ravenscar,the letter began.
It pains me to write at such a season, but a mutual acquaintance has told me that he attempted to alert you to your husband’s deeds, and due to your shared history, you dismissed him.
I write now because this mutual friend was indeed right about your husband. I myself am a frequent visitor to St. Giles, a circumstance I am neither proud nor wholly ashamed of. Your husband, however, appears to be the latter. I have seen him a great many times in such establishments. He is well-known there, as you must know.
He may have told you that he has not frequented such places for some time, but this is untrue. I have it on good authority that your husband has a particular courtesan he favors, and I happen to know that he will see her this very evening. I was there when the arrangements were made.
If you do not trust our mutual acquaintance—whose name I am certain you have guessed by now—then come see with your own eyes. Your husband will leave your residence tonight under false pretenses. He will then make his way to St. Giles to see this courtesan, called Elizabeth. Follow him, or send a trusted party, for St. Giles is no place for a lady. But you will see that he lies to you, and you will know that our mutual acquaintance was quite correct in his assertions.
Sincerely,
X.
