In Charlotte’s eyes he was good – the best possible version of himself – a man he actually liked for a change. He couldn’t risk losing that for any reason. Not even for the sake of being honorable.
10
When Charlotte returned home after her outing with Blayne, she learned that Mr. Cooper was waiting for her in the parlor along with her parents. Charlotte thanked the butler for letting her know, exchanged an apprehensive look with Daisy who took Charlotte’s bonnet and gloves, and went to discover why Mr. Cooper had come to call. Until now, he’d only joined her for afternoon tea, but it was too early for that – luncheon time in fact – which was an odd hour to stop by unless he’d been invited. And why were her parents here when they’d both had plans to be gone for most of the day?
Steeling herself, she entered the room. Her father was speaking with Mr. Cooper, his tone firm and his face more grave than usual. She instinctively froze as a chill swept the length of her spine. Something wasn’t right.
“Ah. There you are,” Mama said when she noticed her arrival. Papa and Mr. Cooper halted their discussion and stood. As soon as she found a seat, they reclaimed theirs. “We’ve been waiting for you for almost one hour. Where have you been?”
“Not with Mr. Wright, I hope,” Papa said, his gaze narrowed at her in studious assessment.
“I, um…” Charlotte cleared her throat. Her heart beat faster. “I visited a bookshop. With Daisy. On our way home we stopped by the park for a walk.”
“So you’ve not seen Mr. Wright today?” Papa asked.
Unsure why Papa suddenly seemed so opposed to Blayne whom he’d actually said he liked last night after the ball, Charlotte shook her head. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Because it has come to my attention that he’s not the gentleman he has been claiming to be.” Papa leaned forward. “As it turns out, he’s not even called Mr. Wright. His real name is Mr. MacNeil, which makes him a dangerous criminal.”
Charlotte swallowed. Oh dear. She glanced at her mother whose eyes were filled with concern before dropping her gaze to the table and wishing there were something for her to imbibe besides tea. Since there wasn’t, she began preparing a cup if for no other reason than to busy herself with something.
“Did you know?” Papa’s voice was like a whip against her guilty conscience.
“Surely you must be mistaken,” Charlotte said, attempting to sidestep the question so she could avoid yet another lie. “No criminal could ever be as cultivated as Mr. Wright. Clearly he comes from a very good family.”
“And do you perchance have any idea which family that might be?” Papa asked.
“A Scottish one, I suspect,” Charlotte quipped.
“Charlotte,” Mama implored while Papa appeared to seethe with controlled fury. “This is not the right time to jest. Mr. Cooper had the foresight to do what we should have done from the start when Mr. MacNeil, a man we knew nothing about, informed us of his intention to marry our daughter.”
“I informed you of his intention to do so, Mama.”
“Regardless,” Mama continued as if Charlotte’s factual reminder was of no significance whatsoever, “the point remains the same. Mr. MacNeil fooled us all with a clever scheme, one we might never have discovered had it not been for Mr. Cooper’s efforts to have him investigated.”
“What?” Charlotte’s head spun around to face the man who’d decided to meddle in her affairs. “When?”
“Last night,” he said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I paid one of the Coventry servants to follow him home from the ball. Turns out, he lives in a slum and goes by a different name. More than that, he has ties to an outlaw known as Carlton Guthrie.”
“Carlton Guthrie is now the Duke of Windham,” Charlotte said. “His real name is Valentine Sterling and just so you know, he was cleared of any wrongdoing last year.”
She’d been wary of Mr. Cooper’s reaction, or lack thereof, when he’d found her in the garden with Blayne last night at the ball. It hadn’t made sense until now. As it turned out, the American businessman had elected not to force Charlotte into marriage with Blayne. By pretending indifference, he’d avoided a scandal while quietly gathering information against his opponent.
Apparently she’d underestimated Mr. Cooper. He was far more devious and scheming than he’d let on.
“Be that as it may, Windham is not the man we’re discussing,” Papa said. “Now, what I want to know is whether or not you were aware of Mr. MacNeil’s true identity.”
“He’s a good man,” Charlotte insisted. She’d not sit here and deny what she knew to be true. “The best I’ve ever met.”
“I take that as a yes then.” Papa’s eyes were harder than flint. “And yet you brought him into our home. You allowed us to think he was worthy of keeping our company and, might I add, of marrying you!”
“He is worthy,” Charlotte snapped. “Mr. MacNeil is kind and thoughtful. I feel safe when I’m with him and...I’m sure he’s more than what he appears, even to me.” A thought struck her. “Who did Lady Warwick say he reminded her of, Mama?”
Mama exchanged a cautious glance with her husband before saying, “Mr. Bruce Callanach.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Charlotte said.
Mama pushed out a breath. “He used to be one of the richest men this side of The Channel.”
“Used to be?”
“He died years ago. Not that it matters. Having met Callanach, I’d say the only thing Mr. MacNeil has in common with him, besides the height, is the fact that they’re both Scottish.”
“I see.” Charlotte’s hope of Mr. MacNeil somehow belonging to an upper-crust family dwindled. Not that it mattered. He could be the son of a murderer for all she cared, and she’d still stand by him. But it would have been nice to wield a connection to wealth and respectability as an additional weapon against this new assault on him. “Well. It doesn’t change how I feel. Mr. MacNeil is the man I intend to marry and—”
“The hell you will,” Papa snapped.
“Lord Elkins,” Mama admonished.
“Forgive me,” Papa said. He shot to his feet and crossed to the sideboard where he proceeded to pour a drink. “I’m afraid this matter has riled me more than what is deemed proper. My apologies, ladies. Mr. Cooper. Would anyone else like a brandy?”
When everyone declined, he returned to his chair with his own. Once seated, he took a long swallow before pinning Charlotte with a hard glare. “There will be no more talk of Mr. MacNeil. Is that clear? From this moment on it will be as though he never existed. It goes without saying that you’re not to see him again.”
“And if I refuse?” Charlotte asked while anger slid through her veins with increasing speed.
“Clearly we have been too lenient with you, too distracted by your sisters’ courtships, engagements and weddings these past few years to pay you much heed.” Papa’s voice was tight, his eyes blazing. “You seemed content to wait for the right man to come along. You weren’t in the same kind of rush to wed as they were.”