Anne Herries - Rescued by the Viscount

‘A widower with three children, Mama?’ Charlotte pulled a face. ‘I think I would prefer someone who had not been previously married—we are not desperate just yet, are we?’

‘No, dearest, of course not. I do not wish to push you into anything that distresses you. Indeed, I wish this had not been necessary at all—but poor Papa is at his wits’ end, and if you do not marry to oblige us...’

‘But I shall, Mama,’ Charlotte assured her. ‘Please do not worry. There will be someone who is both rich and agreeable to me. I promise you, it will all come right in the end.’

‘My poor dear child,’ her mama said. ‘Had your aunt not sold those jewels we might have avoided this. You could have sold them to pay a part of Papa’s debt.’

‘I would gladly have done so,’ Charlotte assured her. ‘But they are worth very little. I must marry to advantage. I have made up my mind to it—and I shall not let you down.’

Undressing and hiding the youth’s clothing at the bottom of one of her drawers, Charlotte reflected on that evening’s episode. Had she been caught and abused...it did not bear thinking about! If she’d been unmasked and her wicked act had been revealed, she would have been ruined and her family with her. It was no wonder that Matt had been terrified. He’d begged her not to consider such a mad escapade, but she’d overruled him, as she always had in the past. Her brother might be three years older, but she had the stronger will. It was she who ought to have been a boy for very little frightened her. Even the near-escape she’d had had not truly bothered her, only the fear of what might have happened.

But it hadn’t and she refused to worry about what might have been. She’d recovered the fake necklace. Lord Harding could only blame himself for leaving the necklace on his dressing table before going off for the evening. Besides, he deserved no sympathy. Matt was certain he’d been cheated and was determined never to play cards with the man again.

Charlotte was just going to forget all about it.

* * *

Mama had decided to leave cards at the homes of her acquaintances in town and wanted Charlotte to accompany her.

‘We shall not stay anywhere, but merely leave cards,’ Mama had told her. ‘On the way home we will visit the mantua maker and collect some rather lovely shawls I ordered from Madame Rousseau.’

However, Mama’s plans did not go entirely as she anticipated, for at the first house they called, they encountered Lady Rushmore just as she was leaving and she begged them to come in and take some refreshment with her.

‘It is such an age since we met and I was going to call on you this afternoon,’ the lady said, insisting on sending for coffee and little almond cakes in the front parlour.

They were soon joined by the lady’s son and daughter, who had come down to see why their mama had not gone shopping as she planned. Miss Amelia was a pretty, fair girl with a lisp and pouting lips, her hair hanging in ringlets about a heart-shaped face. Her brother Robert was tall, well built and dressed in the height of fashion, with shirt points so high he could scarcely turn his head. He seemed to spend most of his time preening before one of the gilt-framed mirrors, and when he did speak his conversation was of horses and his new phaeton.

Miss Amelia laughed a lot and talked endlessly of her new clothes, which she was purchasing for her trousseau. She had recently become engaged and was interested in little but her wedding and clothes. Accustomed to talking of poetry and music with her brother, and of listening to Papa speaking in an entertaining way of the gentlemen he met and dined with at his clubs, Charlotte found herself longing to go home after just half an hour.

However, just as she thought they might be ready to leave, a gentleman was announced as Sir Percival Redding. He was a man of perhaps five and thirty, brother to Lady Rushmore and of a florid complexion. His dark hair curled in a manner intended to be casual and his clothes were as elegant as his nephew’s, though slightly more wearable for his shirt points were not above average, and his coats were cut to allow for ease of movement. However, he had a pleasant manner and regaled the ladies with his tales of society.

Somehow he ousted Amelia from her seat beside Charlotte and sat down to tell her the story of how he had recently dined with the Prince Regent at Brighton in the Pavilion.

‘’Pon my word, Miss Stevens, it must have been nigh on a hundred degrees. I felt I was melting and poor dear Lady Melrose fainted twice.’

Charlotte had heard that the Regent liked his rooms over-warm, but was interested in all the details of the Pavilion, with its Chinese decoration and the towers that gave it the look of an Eastern Palace.

* * *

It was as Mama stood up to pull on her gloves some twenty minutes later, clearly intending to leave, that Sir Percival stood and bowed to Charlotte, as she too rose from the small sofa. His neck was a little pink as he bent over her hand and asked if she was going to Markham’s ball that evening.

‘Yes, we have been invited. It is my first ball in town, though I have been to the assemblies in Bath several times.’

‘I too shall be there,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘May I hope that you will save me two dances, Miss Stevens? I prefer the country dances for I am not enamoured of the waltz—though I see no harm in it for others.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Charlotte replied easily. She quite liked the gentleman, for he was friendly and more entertaining than his relatives and she was grateful to know that she would not sit out at least two of the dances that evening. ‘I shall be very happy to reserve the first of the evening and the last country dance before supper.’

‘I shall now look forward to the evening,’ he promised, looking a little like the cat that had stolen the cream. ‘And if I may I shall claim you for supper.’

Charlotte inclined her head and followed her mama from the house. It was only when they were inside the carriage that Mama turned to her with an approving look.

‘I am proud of you, Charlotte. Sir Percival was very taken with you. I saw it at once. I do not say it will lead to an offer immediately, but he would be a good choice. He was in the army for many years, my love, and never married, but Lady Rushmore told me she believes he is at last thinking of settling down. Would it not be a fine thing if you were married to the brother of one of my oldest friends? He is comfortable, you know. Perhaps not as rich as...’

Charlotte’s mind drifted away as she glanced out of the window, watching the fashionable ladies and gentlemen promenading in the busy streets. The morning had flown and they would have time only to collect their shawls before returning home for nuncheon.

Mama was still droning on about how fortunate it was that they should meet her friend, as she was driving away, and Charlotte managed to stifle her sigh. She supposed that Mama must review every gentleman they encountered as a possible husband for her daughter, but she wished she would not jump to the idea of marriage so swiftly. It was not that she disliked Sir Percival. Indeed, she would prefer him to the father of three motherless children, but Charlotte was still hoping for more. Surely she was entitled to a little romance before she settled for marriage?

* * *

When they were set down outside their lodgings in the fashionable square, she shook out the folds of her gown and walked into the house a little ahead of her mother. She stopped abruptly as she saw her father; he was bidding farewell to a gentleman, who had clearly been visiting while they were out.

Charlotte’s heart caught with a mixture of shock and pleasure, for it was the viscount, and mixed with the relief that he had at last called on them was the fear that he might recognise her from the previous night.