“If you do this, you forfeit the two hundred pounds I was prepared to give you in dowry.”
“Fine,” she countered. “We’ll make do without it.”
“Charlotte, please be reasonable,” Mama pressed.
Everet entered the parlor before Charlotte had a chance to respond. “A letter for you, Miss Russell.”
Doing her best not to take her frustration out on the butler, Charlotte thanked him and took the letter from the salver he held toward her. She tore the seal and scanned the contents.
Dear Miss Russell,
You are invited to participate in a meeting between myself and the man who submitted the manuscript you claim was stolen. Please be at my office at nine o’clock on August twenty-second. Hopefully, the matter you’ve brought before me can be cleared up then.
Sincerely,
Mr. P. Agerson
Apparently when it rained it poured. The date Mr. P. Agerson suggested was in two days. Charlotte closed her eyes for a brief moment while aligning herself with the fact that her chance of reacquiring her rights to the manuscript would in all likelihood slip through her fingers. Because when it came to a matter of choice, there was only one – Blayne needed her and nothing was going to stop her from doing all she could in order to save him. Which meant she would have to miss the meeting with the publisher.
Jaw set, Charlotte pocketed the letter and faced her parents. “I’ll see you both when I return.”
“If you leave this house right now to chase after that good for nothing gutter rat, you’ll never be welcome here again,” Papa sputtered.
Mama gasped and proceeded to plea with her husband to not be so cruel. “She’s our daughter, my lord. Please be reasonable.”
“In my opinion, I’ve been more than reasonable where she’s concerned. God’s teeth, the chit should have married Mr. Cooper when she had the chance.”
Fuming, Charlotte left the house she’d grown up in without any further goodbyes, and climbed into the recently arrived Windham carriage where Marcus waited.
“Trouble with the parents?” he inquired once Charlotte and Daisy had taken the opposite bench.
“You have no idea,” Charlotte grumbled.
Marcus chuckled. “Never mind them. If all goes well you’ll get Blayne acquitted and marry him over an anvil.”
Allowing a smile in response to his jovial tone, Charlotte settled herself against the squabs and said, “That sounds like an excellent plan to me.”
18
The situation was worse than Blayne had feared. For one delusional second he’d let himself imagine Guthrie would work his magic and get him released. He might not be able to marry Charlotte or even go back to the life he’d known at The Black Swan, but he’d be alive, which was always something.
Instead, he now sat opposite his uncle in a carriage bound for Edinburgh. Two rough looking fellows Seamus had brought along for protection and for the purpose of keeping an eye on Blayne accompanied them.
“I’m guessing ye came to find me after seeing the wedding announcement in the paper?” Blayne willed himself to look Seamus straight in the eye. “I’m just nae sure how ye knew I was Blayne MacNeil.”
Seamus snorted. “Yer wedding announcement has nothing to do with me showing up in London. I came on account of a letter I received from an old friend.”
Blayne thought on that for a moment. “The Countess of Warwick by any chance?”
“Aye. She saw the resemblance between ye and yer da when she met ye and decided to reach out to me.”
“How considerate of her.”
“I think so.” When Blayne shifted his gaze toward the window, Seamus said, “Ye killed a man – my brother, as it happens. I’ll nae let ye get away with that. In fact, I’ve every intention of seeing justice served on his behalf.”
“He murdered Mr. Roberts. I saw the blood. It was everywhere. And he would have killed Mama too had I not acted.”
“Perhaps, but that doesnae mean I’m any keener to forgive ye for what ye did. I loved Bruce, ye ken?”
“He was a madman.”
“Don’t. Say. That.”
“I still have scars on my back from all the times he whipped me.” Blayne had been but five years old the first time his father had meted out discipline. And Seamus had simply stood there and watched. To say there was no love lost between them would be an understatement.
“Ye were weak and in need of toughening up.”
“It seems like it worked then, wouldnae ye say?”
When Seamus said nothing, Blayne resolved to ignore him as much as possible during the four days he expected the ride to take. There was little for them to discuss. Blayne knew he’d acted abominably when he’d struck down his father. He should have called for help instead, or at the very least hit Bruce somewhere less likely to harm him. And the fact was that if Bruce had lived, he probably would have gotten away with killing Mr. Roberts. After all, the man had been in his wife’s bed, completely naked, from what Blayne recalled. Considering Bruce’s status and connections, the incident would in all likelihood have been swept under a rug, never to be spoken of again.
Blayne tried to place himself in Seamus’s position for a moment. Would he have behaved in a similar fashion had their roles been reversed? Unlikely, but in a strange way Blayne understood the man. He could not fault him for looking up to his older brother, or for trying to avenge his death. It was just damned inconvenient for Blayne – destructive to his plans for the future. In all likelihood it would be his end.
Blindly, he watched the countryside roll by. If only he’d come clean with Charlotte sooner. At least then she’d know his side of the story. He dared not even consider what she might be thinking. Not that it mattered. She was much better off without him and that was an undeniable fact.
It was extraordinarily difficult for Charlotte to quiet her nerves. She was agitated, worried, and very convinced the carriage was not moving nearly as fast as it could. In fact, she was beginning to contemplate the idea of hiring a horse for herself at the next posting inn so she could tear along the road at full speed. At least then, she might stand a chance of catching up with a carriage that had gained a six hour advantage by the time she’d been ready for departure.
An involuntary chuckle vibrated through her at the thought of what she would look like riding astride with her skirts bunched around her legs. Somehow, since meeting Blayne for the very first time, her life had strayed with greater degree from what was considered proper and taken on a guise more suited to one of her stories. Good grief! She’d hired a man whom she’d promptly turned into a fake fiancé, made a deal with a businessman, gotten compromised, engaged, and jilted by a would-be murderer whom she now intended to save. It was too fantastical a tale by half. If she penned it, people would call it ridiculous.
“What’s so amusing?” Marcus asked.
She shook her head, glanced at Daisy who slept by her side, and said, “Things don’t always turn out as one would expect, do they?”
“Not at all,” he murmured. “I certainly never imagined being stripped of my title and becoming a social pariah. We peers are raised in such comfort, we don’t even know how to appreciate what we have.”