Charles was gaping at her. "No, I do not see," he said. "Would you mind repeating that? No," he said, holding up a hand as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth again, "don't repeat it. Explain it a different way. And take a breath somewhere along the way, will you, Charlotte, love?"
She wriggled impatiently. "Don't you see?" she said. "It's perfect. When you go to Portsmouth, I shall go with you."
"Hold it right there," he ordered. "That's a scatterbrained idea, if I ever heard one."
"Why?"
"Why, she asks," he said, eyes raised to the sky. "You do not ride around England with a man and no chaperone, my dear."
"Phooey. It would take only a few hours to get there and then I will be with Juana and her servants."
"And what if, by some accident, we were forced to spend a night on the road? You would be hopelessly compromised, my love, I should be forced to marry you and it would be good-bye, Juana, and good-bye, Devin. Perhaps we could introduce them to each other."
"Nonsense," Charlotte said. "For what possible reason could we be delayed on the road?"
"Earthquake. Typhoon. Snowstorm."
"In July? How foolish!"
"Very well. Continue," he said with mock weariness.
"I should leave a note for Meg so that she would not worry," she continued. "But Meg will not give away your secret. But you see, Charles, when I return with you and Juana, everyone will see that I am pleased and that I must have known about her all along."
" 'Everyone' being Devin Northcott, I assume?"
"Well, yes. Anyway, he will be forced to admit then that I could not have been flirting with you, will he not? And then he will be very sorry."
"And grovel in the dirt at your feet and beg for the honor of your hand. What an addlepated female you are, Charlotte."
"Why?" she asked crossly.
"He is much more likely to turn up his aristocratic nose in disgust at a female who would go traipsing around with another man."
"He would not. And don't make him sound so odious."
"Sorry, but I thought he was 'stuffy and insufferably high in the instep.' Anyway, my love, the answer is no. You will have to think of something else."
"No?"
"No!"
"But, Charles-"
"Absolutely and irrevocably NO my love. A strong, strong negative. The opposite of yes."
"Oh!"
Chapter 14
Charlotte was sitting beside Charles in a closed carriage belonging to the Earl of Brampton. She was huddled inside a thin summer pelisse that covered her favorite yellow muslin dress, the one that made her look like a ray of sunshine, according to one admirer. She felt cold and cross. The rain and the mist seemed to have penetrated even the carriage so that she was chilled, and her hair under its yellow bonnet felt as if it had lost some of its curl and bounce. She was certainly not going to be at her best to meet Juana. To crown it all, Charles was stiff and starchy and cross as a bear.
It was two days after their conversation at the lake. Finally that morning Charles had received the letter he had long awaited. He and Charlotte had been in the stables preparing to take their horses for a ride, when a figure familiar to Charles from his mother's establishment in London came riding in on a well-lathered horse.
"John!" Charles had greeted him eagerly, striding toward the new arrival and grabbing the horse by the reins. "You have news?"
"A letter for you from Portsmouth, Captain," John had replied, slipping from the saddle with a thankful sigh and withdrawing a package from an inner pocket.
Charles had whipped it from his grasp and had eagerly torn open its seals. Charlotte had come running to his side. "She's here, Charlotte," he had cried. "At Portsmouth. The Crown and Anchor."
Charlotte had clapped her hands. "How exciting! Are we setting out immediately?"
Charles had ignored her choice of pronoun. "She has a duenna with her and a manservant and some sort of male second cousin. And doubtless two mountains of luggage. I shall need two carriages."
"Take one from here and hire an additional post chaise for the return journey," Charlotte had suggested.
"Good idea," he had mused. "If I start immediately I should be in Portsmouth by midafternoon. We should be back here by midevening."
"Will you just give me time to change out of my riding habit?" Charlotte had asked anxiously.
"Eh? You have all day to change, my love. We won't be back here for hours."
"No, Charles, please," she had pleaded, catching at his arm. "You must let me go. It is my only chance, don't you see?"
"No, I don't see, Charlotte," he had answered un-sympathetically. "And I have no time to stand here arguing. I have several arrangements to make."
"I shall keep asking until you change your mind," Charlotte had said, clinging to his arm tenaciously. "Charles, be fair! You are having your chance with Juana. Let me have mine with Devin."
"I don't know what makes you think this featherbrained scheme will bring him running to your side," Charles had said in exasperation, "but come if you must. On your own head be it, Charlotte. Just don't expect me to marry you when your reputation is gone, that's all."
"Oh, thank you, Charles," she had said excitedly, aiming a kiss at his cheek and missing entirely.
"You can have half an hour, not one minute longer," Charles had yelled at her as she began to hurry toward the house. "And don't forget to leave a note for Margaret, or Dick will have my head."
Charlotte had been ready with three minutes to spare. She had dressed carefully and touched up her hair, all without summoning Kitty. She had not wanted anyone to spoil her plan now that it looked like succeeding. She had spent five minutes composing a very careful letter to Meg, explaining everything and begging her to keep the secret until the evening. Margaret had not been at home. She had gone, with the dowager, to visit some sick cottage tenants. At the last moment she had grabbed a pelisse. Heavy clouds had moved across the sun; it looked as if it might rain later on.
Charles was regretting his decision to allow Charlotte to accompany him. Nothing but trouble could come of it. It was just not the thing for him to allow an unattached, unaccompanied female to ride in a closed carriage with him, especially for such a long time and distance. He knew that there would be big trouble with Dick. Even his gentle sister-in-law would surely express her displeasure. They would, of course, blame him. He was old enough to know better, even if Charlotte was not. As if he was not going to have a difficult-enough time as it was, suddenly producing a Spanish girl and her entourage and introducing her as his fiancée. What a hobble! His mother would throw a fit of the vapors per minute!
His mood was not lightened by the rain. It made the inside of the carriage clammy, and he could imagine what it was doing to the outside. He had so hoped that his darling would see England at its best when he took her to his childhood home. This reminded him uncomfortably of Spain in the rainy season and all those long and pointless forced marches to and fro across the country playing cat and mouse with Boney and the French.
Fortunately, at least, these English roads were still passable in the rain. They changed horses once at a posting inn, arranging to pick up the Earl of Brampton's cattle on the return journey. They arrived in Portsmouth at three o'clock in the afternoon and were directed to the Crown and Anchor Inn.
For a long time Charlotte had been forming in her mind a mental image of Charles' betrothed. She had a firm picture of a girl about the same height and build as Meg, but with very dark hair and eyes. She was surprised, therefore, when she was ushered into a private parlor ahead of Charles and saw a girl rise from a chair close to the fire. She was dark, yes, with masses of black hair coiled on top of her head, and flashing eyes that looked equally black. But she was tall-surely on a level with Charles' chin-and had a luscious figure: heavy breasts, tiny waist, full hips. She looked almost frighteningly haughty, her body held very straight, her chin high, her heavy black eyebrows raised in apparent disdain.