Helen Dickson - An Innocent Proposal

Louisa stared at him, shocked that he should exhibit such an unrestrained interest in such a young girl. “If she is to remain in that condition, then in my opinion I think it best that she remains there, Sir Charles,” she chided, “under her brother’s watchful eye and away from the rakes and debauchees of London—away from such destructive, immoral influences as yourself, for it is clear to me that her innocence and naivety only adds to her attraction in your eyes.”

He laughed lightly, a lewd, lascivious gleam in his eyes. “You are right, I admit it. The sight of so much innocence excites me—makes me imagine those pleasures and sensations, such as Miss Dunstan can never have experienced, being aroused by me. I find the aura of pure virginity combined with youth and beauty irresistible. And the seemingly unobtainable is always the most desirable to me, my dear Miss Divine—as is the case with yourself,” he said huskily as his eyes devoured her soft lips.

“But if I wanted to sample the innocent delights of the adorable Miss Dunstan I would not be put off by her brother,” he went on. “No, indeed I would not,” he said without preamble, quietly, firmly and convincingly, his eyes following the retreating figure of the alluring young woman, who turned her head briefly to look back once more.

There was a hard gleam in his eyes, his gaze speculative and predatory as he watched her disappear amongst a group of trees, along with the other members of her group. His words caused Louisa to swallow down a sudden rush of revulsion. She observed the way his eyes followed the young woman, and it troubled her and created a feeling of unease. It was an incident she was to recall at a later date, but for now she put it out of her mind. Quickening her stride, for she was suddenly eager to be done with his company, she drew a shaky breath.

“What on earth have you done, Sir Charles, that makes Lord Dunstan scowl at you so whenever the two of you meet?”

Louisa noted that suddenly he was no longer his usual, smiling, convivial self, that a seriousness had descended on him as he fixed his unreadable gaze straight ahead.

“He bears me a personal grudge—and it is I who should be doing the scowling, Miss Divine. I am guilty of nothing where that gentleman is concerned. Any wrongdoing was done by him, not by me.”

“Why? What on earth has he done that is so dreadful?”

His face became grim, his eyes hard, and there was something so terrible in their fixed, unnatural brightness that Louisa felt her throat tighten. He spoke slowly, quietly and deliberately, each word enunciated.

“He cheated me out of the woman I was to have married.”

“Oh! Then should it not be you who bears the grudge, Sir Charles?”

He grimaced, seeming not to hear her as he became immersed in some unpleasant thought. His lips compressed and his gloved fingers closed on the brim of his hat, crushing the edge, leaving Louisa in no doubt as to the depth of hatred that existed between himself and Lord Dunstan.

“I-In what way did he cheat you?” Louisa asked nervously, for Sir Charles Meredith no longer resembled the man of a few moments before, all trace of the charming rake he portrayed to the world having vanished. The expression in his eyes had become ugly, his features contorted almost beyond recognition. The expression was fleeting and soon passed, but it left Louisa with a sinking feeling and a sense of regret that she had unwittingly prodded a wound that was still raw, seeping and extremely painful for both men.

“He married her himself when my back was turned—when I was unable to do anything about it. But it backfired on him miserably, which was no more than he deserved,” he uttered fiercely. “However, it is all a long time ago and in the past.”

“But not forgotten by either of you, it would seem?”

“No, indeed. He did me a grave injustice and the day will come when I shall pay the almighty Alistair Dunstan back in full for what he did to me, Miss Divine. Some day,” he whispered, with an undertone of such savage force that Louisa fought a shiver of fear. “You’ll see.”

Louisa’s curiosity was sharpened and she wanted to know more—there was so much he had not told her, but she was not to learn anything further about what had occurred between Sir Charles and Lord Dunstan, for at that moment James and Timothy, displeased to see her talking to Sir Charles, came to reclaim her.

Trembling but managing a smile, shaken by the brief insight Sir Charles had given her into the feud that existed between himself and Lord Dunstan, an insight that left her feeling decidedly uneasy, she watched as he politely and abruptly excused himself to Timothy and James. Her brother was coldly contemptuous of the man’s frank admiration of her. “I do not like that man, Louisa,” James muttered, scowling at Sir Charles’s receding figure as he swaggered away. “You will do well to steer clear of him in the future.”

“Yes, I intend to,” she replied absently, a memory of the cold, savage look of vengeance she had seen in Sir Charles’s eyes flickering in her mind. Their conversation had left her with a feeling of oppression and horror, and she experienced a certain surprise at his severe accusation against Lord Dunstan. Was it true? she asked herself. Had Lord Dunstan married the woman Sir Charles would have married himself? If this was the case, then surely the lady concerned would not have married Lord Dunstan had she not preferred him to Sir Charles?

But Sir Charles had revealed that the marriage had gone miserably wrong for Lord Dunstan, and with that she could only conclude—as Timothy had suggested—that it had broken down and his wife had left him for someone else. She tried to envisage what both Lord Dunstan and Sir Charles must have suffered, and yet she had a distinct feeling that Lord Dunstan’s suffering had been the greatest. She did not know enough of what had transpired between them, nor did she know either of them well enough to defend one’s conduct against the other, but having just had an insight into Sir Charles’s character, which seemed to have a tendency to evil, she had no wish to know more.

His manner, his way of speaking and his countenance she found repugnant in every degree. It had been enough to tell her that he did not possess any of the virtues that constituted a gentleman, and that he had many years of idleness and vice to atone for.

James moped about the house in a state of deep depression as Louisa began preparing herself for the unpleasant occasion of dining at Dunstan House. She managed to persuade him to put off fetching the deeds to his estate from Surrey and presenting them to Lord Dunstan to pay off his debt until the following week, in order to give her time to retrieve his IOU.

She reminded herself that if what Timothy had said was true—that Lord Dunstan attracted women like a magnet—then after her sharp rebuff at Mr Brewster’s bookshop, and seeing her with Sir Charles Meredith in St James’s Park, he might be angry and no longer interested in her.

For her plan to succeed she must make him want her—want her to such an extent that he would be prepared to agree to her terms to possess her. And as the time drew near for her to ready herself for the evening in front of her—perhaps the most important evening of her life—apprehension began to give way to panic.

She was undecided about which gown to wear, for Timothy had presented her with three to choose from, as well as several items of undergarment, telling her that his sister had been only too delighted to be of help.

He had told Amelia that Louisa had arrived in London having absent-mindedly left her finest dresses behind in Surrey, and was mortified, on finding herself invited to an important event, to discover she had nothing to wear and unwilling to go to the expense of buying something new. Amelia had been only too happy to loan her some gowns.