Page 3 of The Vixen in Red
He’d much rather return to his Uncle Charles’s, the Earl of Coventry’s, house anyway. He had to discern the best way to handle his current situation. If Cameron hadn’t shown up unexpectedly, he would have stayed in the study perusing the ledgers of his estate. His estate manager had up and quit, and from what he could tell, the man had left everything in ruins. He’d siphoned funds from the estate coffers and didn’t do any of the repairs. Collin might have to go to Peacehaven and live at his manor until they were all done to his liking. He didn’t trust leaving it to anyone else to complete.
Collin still had to talk to the authorities about tracking the man down. He hated that he’d lounged in London, living a mercurial life, while he’d been robbed blind. What a fool he’d been. He should have gone to his estate a long time ago. If there hadn’t been so much pain involved regarding his ancestral home, he might have. He hadn’t returned to Peacehaven since his parents’s death. He wasn’t certain he could go without his heart ripping into pieces, but it seemed he had little choice. No one else could do it for him, and it was time he grew up and stopped avoiding his responsibilities.
They exited the park without anyone noticing. Collin glanced back one last time at the lady in breeches. Part of him hoped they crossed paths again. He wanted to ask about her adventure and the reasoning. It would be an interesting tale… He would be unlikely to see her again though. Soon, he’d be in the country, buried in house repairs and farming updates. None of that would have anything to do with an unconventional lady that dared to ride her horse in the park in men’s clothing…
* * *
Charlotte paced her bedroom,where she’d been banished upon returning home. Once there, she’d stripped off the borrowed men’s clothing and redressed herself in her own undergarments and gown. Her mother would have a fit if she came downstairs still wearing breeches. For a moment, she had thought her mother might throttle her in the park. She couldn’t recall ever seeing the Marchioness of Seabrook that angry before. Her face had been so flushed it rivaled a bright red apple for coloring.
Her parents had been incredibly angry. Far more livid than she had anticipated… This scheme of hers had seemed like such a good way to get what she wanted. Now she questioned the veracity of what she had believed. She hated disappointing her parents. Especially her father…she’d always admired him and how brave he’d been during the war. If she ever married, she hoped the gentleman she gave her heart to could be equally as courageous. Not that she hoped the country experienced anything resembling a war again, but she still wanted the quality to be deep inside her fictitious love before she gave him her heart. It didn’t seem like too much to ask…
The door to her bedchamber flung open. A maid stepped inside and curtsied. “Pardon me, milady,” she said. “Your mother and father request your presence in the salon.”
Her heart beat heavily in her chest. This was it. The reckoning she’d caused would gain her permission to travel back to Seabrook. She would have the freedom to work on her novel and not worry about any social engagements. Charlotte swallowed hard and took a fortifying breath. “Thank you, Mildred,” she said to the maid. She was proud of how evenly she spoke. Her voice didn’t show the nervousness that rattled through her entire body. It was a miracle she wasn’t shaking uncontrollably. Somehow, she doubtedrequesthad been the tone her parents had used—more like ordered or demanded.Requestimplied she had a choice. Charlotte was pretty certaindemandwas the correct word to describe what her parent’s desired of her.
She stopped outside of the salon and took another breath. Somehow, she thought she’d need it for the upcoming confrontation. Charlotte took a tentative step and then entered the salon. She kept her head held high. It wouldn’t do her any good to show weakness. Her parents, as much as she loved them, were merciless. They’d have her weeping and running back to her room if she allowed them to gut her with their words. That wasn’t to say they were unkind. Her parents had always been loving and nurturing as she grew from a child to a young woman, but they also didn’t suffer fools. Charlotte would wager they considered her deeds beyond foolish.
Her mother looked serene without one strand of her midnight locks out of place. There wasn’t much color in her complexion, only the hint of pink. Gone was the dark red blotches, and nothing but creamy skin remained.
“You wished to see me?” It wasn’t really a question, but somehow it slipped out as one…
“Please have a seat,” her father said gesturing to a chair near the settee they were already seated at. Her mother calmly poured a cup a tea and put two lumps of sugar in it. She then sipped it as if she wasn’t about to deliver a punishment to her daughter.Merciless…
“We’re not going to discuss your actions,” her father began. His golden blond hair was disheveled. He must have run his hand through his locks several times in frustration. “It’s pointless to repeat the details of the incident. What is done is done.” He lifted a glass filled with amber liquid and took a sip. No tea for her father… That was brandy he had in his glass. She’d driven her dear father to drink. She wasn’t certain how she felt about that. Perhaps she should be ashamed, and maybe she was, but she had achieved her goal so she would continue on this path if she hoped to see its complete fruition. “What we are going to discuss is what we have decided to do about the situation.”
Her mother picked up a scone and slathered it with jam and took a bite. Was she going to ignore Charlotte for the entirety of the conversation? Somehow, that hurt…worse. “I understand,” she answered. Somehow, she managed to keep her tone void of emotion. So far, she was handling it all without issue. She could do this.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Charlotte shook her head slowly. It wouldn’t do any good to defend her actions. She had dressed as a man and rode through Hyde Park…on purpose. There was no excuse that would be acceptable. “I don’t wish to compound anything with any defense of my actions. I’ll accept what you decide.” There was only one place she would be sent. She prayed her little escapade in the park would not be for naught. They had to send her home. They just had to. Charlotte hated that she caused her parents any undo anxiety, but causing a scandal was the only sure way to guarantee they’d send her home. She would not change anything she’d done. It would give her what she wanted most…to return to Seabrook. For that she couldn’t allow herself to feel guilty or back down from what she wanted. Her parents didn’t understand what she wanted, and therefore, she had to make them do what she needed. Even if they were disappointed with her.
“That is wise of you,” her father told her. “Especially as you don’t have a choice.”
That didn’t sound…good. A foreboding settled deep inside her gut. “All right…” She swallowed hard. “What have you decided?”
“We had a couple of options,” her father began. Couple? There was only one: Seabrook… What did he mean? “Seabrook is always an option, but if we sent you home, you wouldn’t learn any profound lessons. So that won’t do at all.”
Her heart sank and her stomach started to hurt. What was happening? Where were they going to send her? This was wrong, all wrong. “If I’m not to go home, where will I go?” Had she done it for nothing? She never considered they might not send her to Seabrook. This…she had no words for how this made her feel. She had to remain strong. Maybe she could still accomplish her goals, even if it hadn’t gone exactly as she had wanted it to.
A smile formed on her mother’s face. It was almost…menacing. “I thought that was what you wanted.” She set her tea down and met Charlotte’s gaze. “You’re going to stay with your Great Aunt Seraphina. She lives alone, and it’ll be a benefit to her to have you with her for the next several months.” Her mind went blank for a few moments as that information settled inside her mind. She was disappointed she wasn’t going home, and they were sending her to a place she was bound to hate. They were punishing her, as she expected they would, but so thoroughly that she started to regret what she had done.
Aunt Seraphina…was ancient. All right, that was perhaps an exaggeration. Charlotte didn’t want to spend the next several months with her aunt as company. She’d want to talk and have social engagements; all the things Charlotte wanted to avoid. This had not gone as planned, but she couldn’t go back and change anything. She had done this to herself, and she’d have to make do with the situation. How bad could it be?
Chapter 3
The carriage rattled across the road, and at times, Charlotte thought the driver purposely hit every bump he could locate. She had bounded around the phaeton so many times her back, sides, and bottom had to be covered in bruises. Why had her parents thought sending her to the wilds of Sussex was a good option? At least Peacehaven was near the sea. That was as close as she would get to feeling as if she were home—somewhere in the middle of Seabrook and Weston. It wouldn’t be so terrible…she hoped.
The carriage hit another bump, and she flew forward. Her head bounced on the side of the carriage, and pain sliced through her like a hot knife in butter. She lifted her hand to her head and winced. This entire journey had been nothing but torture. The carriage had stopped moving at least. She cursed under her breath and attempted to sit up but fell down to the side of the carriage. It was on an angle, and that couldn’t be a good sign. She had to get out of the blasted carriage and check on the driver. If she’d bumped her head, he might be in a worse condition. As she slid toward the door to the carriage, it swung open.
“Are you all right?” a man asked.
Charlotte glanced up and frowned. She didn’t recognize him, but somehow, he seemed familiar. He had light red hair…a strawberry blond, and cornflower blue eyes. It was a striking combination. He was actually quite handsome, and she might appreciate that fact if she were not in a broken carriage. She held out her hand. “I could use some assistance out of here.”
He reached in and grasped her hand in his, then helped her up and out of the carriage. He released her hand and then went to study the carriage. “Looks like the wheel broke.”
She stared at the carriage and frowned. Her trunks still seemed to be attached, but one of the wheels had snapped in half. “Where is the driver?”
“I’m here milady,” the driver called out. “I must apologize. I did try to avoid that last hole…” His voice trailed off. The poor man sounded as rattled as Charlotte felt.
