Rescued by the Viscount. Anne Herries
is old-fashioned,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Had it been real I should have had it remodelled for me, but Mama says it isn’t worth it. She says I can wear her diamonds if I have occasion.’
‘Why did you go to all that trouble to get it back then?’
‘Because if Lord Harding realised you’d given him a fake necklace to settle your debt to him, he would have labelled you a cheat and a thief—can you imagine what the gossips would make of that? My chances of making a good marriage would be lost, as would yours of joining a decent regiment.’
‘Yes...’ Matt looked gloomy. ‘I’ve been such a damned fool, Charlie. If it hadn’t been for you...’
‘It’s over and no one ever needs to know anything about it,’ Charlotte said. She thought about the man who had grabbed at her as she was passing through the park. His hands had soon discovered her secret and the thought of him touching her breasts made her feel sick, but it had been dark there in the park and she was fairly certain that he would not recognise her if they met in society. Both he and his companion had been drunk—but the man who had saved her was another matter. Charlotte knew him by sight, for she’d seen him leaving his house across the square earlier that evening, and a couple of times he’d driven by her as she was returning to their house, but they had never met in a formal way. She knew that for a moment he’d had the opportunity to look at her face in the streetlight—but had he seen enough to know her when she was dressed as a young lady of fashion? She could only hope that he had not taken much notice.
‘I hope no one will find out, for both our sakes,’ Matt said. ‘If Harding guessed it was my sister that took the necklace...he might kill me. Yet, you’re right, Charlie. He can’t know. No one can if we keep it to ourselves.’
‘I’m not about to tell anyone.’ She dimpled wickedly up at him, her eyes wide and innocent, but filled with mischief. ‘It’s over now, Matt. Go to bed and let me get some sleep. It’s that big ball tomorrow and I want to look my best. Unless I can find a husband poor Papa is going to lose everything.’
‘Why did he have to invest his money unwisely?’ Matt bemoaned the situation. ‘We were happy enough with what we had—but he thought that venture in the East would bring in a fortune for silks and spices, only the ship sank and all its cargo with it.’
‘And he didn’t think to insure it,’ Charlotte said. ‘Thankfully, Mama had some funds put by for my come out—and if I can find a rich husband he will settle Papa’s debts and all will be well.’
‘What about you?’ her brother asked, looking at her with dark brown eyes that were very like her own, except that hers were flecked with gold and his were simply dark. ‘Will you be happy taking a man just for his money? He may be years older and not at all handsome.’
‘Beggars cannot always choose,’ Charlotte said, sighing despite herself, because she had once dreamed of being swept off her feet by a tall dark prince who would carry her off to his castle and lavish her with love and gifts. ‘I shall hope for the best. And not all rich men are old and fat.’
‘No, I suppose there are a few eligible young men around, if you can find one. A man would be a fool not to marry you if he were rich and single.’
‘You are my brother and prejudiced in my favour.’ She gave a gurgle of laughter and then darted at him, giving him a peck on the cheek before pushing him towards the door. ‘Go, before we wake everyone and they come to see what’s going on. I want to get out of these things before anyone but you has the chance to see me.’
Locking the door behind him, Charlotte went into her bedroom and glanced at herself in the long cheval mirror. A mischievous grin curved her mouth as she saw that she made a fetching youth. No one would know she was a girl unless they happened to touch her in the wrong places, which one of those horrid men had done. They hadn’t seemed to care whether she was a girl or a youth, but were intent on having their way with her in the park either way. And would have done had she not kneed one of them in his privates, leaving him yelling in anger and pain as she made it as far as the gates. However, they would probably have caught her again had it not been for the viscount—Captain Jack Delsey.
Charlotte had known the name of the gentleman who came to her rescue almost from the first day they took up residence in the pleasant garden square. Her mama had been given a list of the residents of the square so that she might leave calling cards, however, she could not do so until they called on her for she was the newcomer. Papa might call if he so wished on the single gentlemen, of which there were two in residence at the moment. One was a widower with three children on a rare visit to town, the children left in the country with their maternal grandmother, and the other was the viscount. Papa had not yet called on either, though the widower had left his card and therefore Mama was preparing to invite him to a small card party she was arranging with her acquaintance in town. The viscount, meanwhile, was the grandson of the Marquis of Ellington and one of the best prizes on the matrimonial market. However, Mama had warned Charlotte not to set her hopes too high.
‘Captain Viscount Delsey is rather too far above us, dearest,’ she’d told Charlotte when they’d seen him drive up in a spanking rig of the first order. ‘Quite charming I understand—but elusive. Some of the most beautiful girls in society have cast their lures at him, but he ignores them all. He is a rake, my love, and flirts with all the pretty girls, but never forms an attachment—or only clandestine ones. He would merely break your heart. Now Mr Harold Cavendish is another matter. He is in his early forties, still attractive and wealthy—and Mrs Featherstone told me that he is looking for a wife to care for his poor motherless children.’
‘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