Page 15 of A Marriage Most Convenient

Charlotte’s head was pounding. No, not Frannie. This was ridiculous. It had just been a simple kiss. There was a list two-hands full in length of men who had stolen kisses from her over the years. Granted, not quite as sensual as those with Jack, but still. And none of the others had mattered. Or at the least, been witnessed.

“Not only that, but you, claiming your virtue remains intact.” Lady Vesper tsked her tongue and shook her head. “We have no proof of that.”

“We cannot be certain we are the only ones who saw anything that evening,” the middle woman continued. “Even if we were willing—which we are not—we cannot keep this a secret.”

The crisp “t” at the end of that word seemed to ring in Charlotte’s ears. She tried to ignore the sick feeling pooling through her body and the rapid rhythm of her heart, but she failed on both accounts.

“Is there nothing we can do?” her mother asked.

The Dowager leaned slightly forward. The woman’s plump face softened and she gave a slight smile. “You can try to marry her off. Find some poor, unsuspecting man who is willing to take her, and get the license quickly before he can change his mind. It is the only way.”

“You best hurry, girl,” Lady Vesper said. “All those men you’ve turned down in the past, perhaps one of them is still willing to take you.” She sat back with a condescending sneer. “Despite the fact that I’m told your dowry is virtually non-existent.”

The woman’s face said it all. You’re welcome to try, but you won’t find anyone to marry you once we’re done with you. The silent threat hung in the air like a menacing and pending storm.

Tears pricked at Charlotte’s eyes, but she forced herself to blink them away. She would not cry, not in front of these women. She refused to show them that kind of weakness. So Charlotte sat still and silent, concentrating on her breath. In and out. In and out. One breath at a time.

The women said nothing more, but continued their disapproving stares.

Her mother stood and folded her arms over her chest. It was the same stance she took when she went toe-to-toe with her children. Her mother always won. “I believe it is time for you to be going. I trust you can see yourselves out. I know you wouldn’t want anyone to see you leaving our house, now that our reputation is so unforgivably tarnished. Come along, Charlotte,” she said firmly.

She held her hand out to her daughter and together they left the room.

Behind them, she could hear the three matrons’ chorus of “well, I never” and “they’ll all be ruined.” Charlotte wanted nothing more than to yell at them all. To tell them that simply because they had more money and a higher standing did not give them reason to come into her parent’s home and speak so rudely.

But it was a confrontation she could not follow through on. It would only make matters worse, and as it were, she had quite likely done as they suggested and ruined the entire family. Hopefully Lord Blaire would not hold it against them and would still offer for Frannie’s hand. And her poor brother, Anthony, who was schooling at Eton, would no doubt read about her in the gossip rags. Charlotte clenched her jaw, willing herself to not cry.

Her mother held tightly to her hand as she led her up the stairs and down the hall to Charlotte’s bedroom. She did not stop moving and did not speak until they were in the room, with the door closed behind them.

Charlotte braced herself for a thorough tongue lashing, one that was probably long overdue and very much deserved, but instead her mother pulled her tightly to her chest and just held her. It took only a second before Charlotte dissolved into a puddle of regret and tears. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things to apologize for, but no words came.

What was it about a mother’s touch that could tear down one’s defenses and open the floodgates so that the tears simply would not stop?

“I’m so sorry, Mama,” Charlotte said as she pulled away.

Her mother shook her head. “Do not be sorry.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it was not a great decision, but I don’t think it will cause as much harm as those three crones seem to think.”

Charlotte knew the truth though. She was ruined. Her mother might not want to face the truth, or perhaps she simply didn’t want her daughter to realize the extent of her actions. But Charlotte’s reputation would be in shreds. No doubt those three women had already stopped to tea with several other gossipers and the news was spreading rapidly.

“What shall we do?” she asked.

“We can pray that your father is having a good day and has some wisdom to share,” her mother said.

“I will have to retire to the country.”

“Don’t be a goose, you will not. You will get married and you will be happy.” The last she said with such fervor, Charlotte almost believed her.

Ruined.

The word kept ringing in her ears. Shame spread through her. She wished she could simply disappear. Perhaps she could go to the Americas and have a fresh start.

“We will figure this all out, love, you wait and see,” her mother said. “Now you stay in your room until I check on your father and see how he is today. Yesterday was not a good day, but sometimes that means the following day is better.” Her mother gave her a fortified smile. Then she slipped out of the room.

Charlotte had heard her father’s outburst the day before. She’d meant to go visit with him to see if her presence could calm him as it often did. But she’d lost track of time, then she’d gone and gotten herself compromised. Because she’d been foolish and impetuous. Perhaps she and Papa could retire to the country together. Country doctors would not be as good as the ones here in London, but their funds for paying for his constant care were dwindling.

Perhaps someday a kind man would make an offer for her. Her mother was still lovely so it made sense that Charlotte’s appearance wouldn’t change too much over the years. She was clever, well-read, and fairly intelligent. Perhaps someday she’d find a man who wouldn’t care that she had allowed a masked thief to steal a kiss. Or two.

CHAPTER 6

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