Gamble With Hearts (7 page)

If
Charlotte
was not in the happiest frame of mind, the same could not be said for her young friend, Mr Edridge. He spent the afternoon happily preparing for his first evening in
London
without his sister's watchful eye upon him. Obviously it behoved him to purchase a new waistcoat for the occasion; and a marvellous confection of flowers, birds, animals and anything else that had occurred to the diseased mind of the manufacturer, it was. His sister regarded this garment with some misgiving when he rather shyly presented himself in the drawing room, but she was a kind woman and forbore to comment. Indeed, she assured her young relative that he had never looked so well.

Unfortunately, he arrived early for his appointment and was forced to undergo the stares of several of the club's members as he waited in the draughty hallway. Charles was late as was his invariable habit, but when he arrived he seemed genuinely pleased to see his young guest.

‘Hallo there, Edridge, not late am I?’ he called airily as he entered accompanied by two equally fashionable young men. ‘Allow me to present Captain Richard Osborne and Lord Vivian Fitzroy. Ricky, Fitz, this is a new friend of mine, Edridge.’

The gentlemen shook hands and within half an hour they had dispensed with formality and Mr Edridge was begged to address his new friends as Charles, Ricky and Fitz. He then shyly disclosed that his own name was Sebastian, for which they generously forgave him.

After a long and sustaining repast comprising plump roast pigeons, a ragout of veal, devilled kidneys in red wine, grilled lamb chops, a rib of beef, and a few dozen oysters, they felt sufficiently refreshed to repair to the card room where they were hailed good humouredly by several young bucks. Charles and the Captain took their places at the Faro table, while Edridge and Lord Fitzroy watched, for, as Fitz confided: ‘They p-play d-devilish high and my p-pockets are p-pretty much t-to let 't-till next quarter.’

To Edridge it was all fascinating, and he would happily have stayed behind Charles' chair all night had he not found himself addressed.

‘Well, my young friend, how goes your evening?’ questioned a friendly voice. Edridge turned to find Ruthin at his elbow.

‘Oh, it's you, sir!’ he exclaimed. ‘I say, this is beyond anything great. I've been hoping to see you.’

‘My dear boy, why?’

‘Well, sir, I was hoping I might have your permission to call on you and perhaps—perhaps—’

‘Perhaps?''

‘Well, I thought that you might not object if I were to offer to—er—to drive Miss Milverly in the Park, if you please, sir!’

‘I am sure Amelia would be delighted to accept,’ responded the Marquis, sternly controlling a quivering lip. ‘Shall I convey your kind invitation to her?’

‘Would you, sir? I don't know how it is, but when I try to talk to females I get into such a muddle I sound like a regular noddy!’

‘I know, my boy,’ replied the Marquis sympathetically. ‘But, believe me, we all have to suffer it. I prophesy that in a few years females will be swooning at your feet as a result of your golden-tongued oratory.’

‘Now you are roasting me, sir,’ protested Mr Edridge, laughing.

‘Of course. Do you object?’

As it was clearly impossible to declare to the Marquis that as Miss Milverly's father he was above all criticism, Edridge merely assured him with fervour that he had no objection whatsoever to being roasted. Ruthin then turned his attention to his other young protégé who was still seated at the table, a pile of rouleaux before him. He was a keen gamester but, nevertheless, he managed to indulge in racy conversation while placing his bets with the shrewdness of long experience.

The Marquis stood for a while watching the play but, at the end of the hand, he casually placed his hand upon Charles' shoulder. Carlington glanced quickly up and then, obedient to that firm pressure, he rose and laughingly disregarded the protests of the other men, he followed Ruthin from the room.

‘I wish to talk to you, Charles. Upon a rather tiresome matter.’

Charles sighed. ‘I can guess what, I suppose.’

‘I imagine so. I find now that your childish prank is the talk of
London
. Everyone knows you planned to hold up Farnley and why. If you were convinced Farnley cheated, you should have left the matter with me. I could have handled the matter with rather more finesse. As it is, you have made it impossible for the affair to be settled quietly. I take it that it was only ill-luck that prevented you from holding him up?’

Charles smiled suddenly. ‘You may call it ill-luck but I think it might turn out to be the best bit of luck I ever had. If I had not tried to rob Farnley I would not have stopped Char—Miss Wrexham's carriage and I might never have found out what a wonderful creature she is. Oh, Ruthin, isn’t she glorious! Did you ever see such hair before? Such eyes?’

‘Charles, you are positively poetic tonight. But restrain your transports, I beg. Miss Wrexham is a most charming girl but I shall be very surprised if you receive any encouragement from her!’

‘What do you mean, Sir? If you are trying to interfere in this you will catch cold, and so I warn you!’

‘Do not threaten me, you young fire-eater,’ commanded the Marquis calmly. ‘All I mean is that Miss Wrexham cannot afford to become entangled with a penniless young spendthrift like yourself. No more can you consider marrying a girl who can bring you nothing. Not land, money or political influence. It would be madness on both your parts. I have it from Mrs Wrexham herself that they are come to
London
for the purpose of finding an eligible husband for
Charlotte
. I fear that you, my poor boy, are far from that.’

 
Charles was very white. ‘I cannot believe that
Charlotte
would sell herself merely for money and position. She is too high-minded for that. Besides, she cares for me, I know she does!’

If that is so, then I am sorry,’ rejoined Lord Ruthin. ‘But Miss Wrexham is a girl of great good sense and, moreover, a strong sense of duty. She will not marry to disoblige her family. Of that I am sure!’

Carlington found Miss Wrexham disturbingly elusive in the days that followed. It seemed that whenever he called the ladies had just stepped out, nor was the dignified butler at all informative as to their whereabouts. His faith in
Charlotte
was unshaken, but it began to seem that her relatives were bent on keeping them apart. Poor, gentle Mrs Wrexham would have been horrified to learn that in his eyes she figured as a monster, cruelly forcing her innocent daughter into marriage with some unspecified but doubtless debauched nobleman. In fact, it was Charlotte rather than her tender-hearted mama who was resolute in avoiding the encounter. She felt unequal to the task of informing her impetuous suitor that he must think of her no longer and, although she frequently rehearsed the scene in her mind, she was aware that no dependence could be placed upon his behaving in the dignified way she envisaged.

Had she not had all the excitement of her first real ball to sustain her, this would have been a most miserable time for
Charlotte
. As it was, there was far too much to be done to allow her any time for reflection, not least in persuading her mama to lay aside the hideous cap she intended to wear for the ball and to don instead a smart velvet beret with a fetchingly curled ostrich feather which she insisted made her mama look ten years younger.

It was true that her few weeks in
London
had already made a great difference to Mrs Wrexham. Away from the rigours of her draughty house on the moors she had regained much of her colour and vitality. The life of pampered ease and luxury that she now enjoyed had helped to remove some of the lines of worry and care from her forehead. She wore her simple clothes with an air and had regained the trick of draping a shawl or knotting a ribbon to add cachet to a gown. Charlotte was too preoccupied to notice the extent of her mama's rejuvenation; she was merely pleased to see her looking so well. Lady Northwood, however, was more observant and, as they sat awaiting their guests on the night of the ball, she commented upon it.

‘Upon my word, Fanny, you look very well. Very well indeed. That hat becomes you admirably.’

Mrs Wrexham coloured but seemed pleased with her sister's praise. She hastened to return the compliment, for Lady Northwood was looking magnificent in a gown of burgundy velvet, lavishly trimmed with floss lace. She wore an imposing turban of embroidered satin in which nodded several purple plumes and the family rubies were scattered rather haphazardly about her person.

The ladies were seated in the drawing room awaiting
Charlotte
. They formed a pleasing picture, the elder sister in her rich velvet, the younger in pale lilac silk, delicately worked in silver thread.

‘Of course, at our age one should not be thinking of one's own appearance,’ remarked Lady Northwood complacently as she patted her crisp curls into place in front of the gilded mirror.

‘Very true, Letitia, and if only
Charlotte
is in looks I shall not care what I look like.’

‘Nonsense, Fanny! You are but thirty-six after all.’

‘No, indeed, Letty, you are mistaken. I will be thirty-eight next birthday.’

‘Good God! That means that I must be forty!’ exclaimed Lady Northwood, aghast. ‘Do not, I beg of you, tell anyone your age. You could easily be five years younger, I assure you.

 
Mrs Wrexham tried to look demure, but Lady Northwood's agonised expression was too much for her. She broke into a peal of merry laughter, and thus the Marquis of Ruthin, who was ushered into the room at that moment, was afforded the opportunity of seeing Fanny Cunningham as she might have looked when Mr Wrexham first saw her. My Lord could not withdraw his gaze from her countenance and was only recalled to himself when Lady Northwood bustled forward to greet him.

‘I am so glad you could come to dinner, Lord Ruthin,’ she cooed. ‘I have invited only a few of my particular friends, although all the world and his wife will be here later for the ball, I daresay.’ Here she broke off to bestow a kind welcome upon Miss Milverly, who was standing uncharacteristically in the shadow of her Papa. Miss Milverly was somewhat in disgrace for having escaped from her duenna in the park that afternoon, and was upon her best behaviour on pain of being sent home before the ball.

Meanwhile, the Marquis had made his way over to Mrs Wrexham and was complimenting her upon her looks that evening.

‘I found myself wondering who this lovely creature could be. My first thought was that some older sister of Charlotte's had suddenly appeared in town!’

‘My dear Marquis, you are talking nonsense,’ smiled Mrs Wrexham. ‘But such delightful nonsense, it makes me feel quite young again. Pray continue!’

Ruthin took her hand and kissed it. ‘As you command, dear lady, it shall be.’ The words were said laughingly, but there was such a glowing look in his eyes that she turned her head quickly to hide her confusion. The door opened, and it was with some relief that she was able to turn her attention to Miss Wrexham who now entered the room. Dressed in purest white, a string of milky pearls clasped around her throat and flowers in her hair,
Charlotte
was a vision to take any man's breath away. She was a little pale, but her eyes were deep blue and sparkling, her burnished hair was piled high, so that the weight of it seemed to tilt back her head, lifting the determined chin. This was the moment
Charlotte
had been working towards; her ambitions were on the point of achievement. She wished she could rejoice in the situation. The only thought in her head, however, was that Carlington would soon be there and that at some point that evening she would have to tell him that he must never try to see her again.

Some of this showed in her face, and her mother's heart was wrung. Lady Northwood was made of sterner stuff, however. Mrs Wrexham saw her approach Charlotte. A word was exchanged.
Charlotte
flushed, added fire lit her eyes and she lifted her chin as she moved forward to greet her Aunt's guests.

‘What did you say to her?’ whispered Mrs Wrexham, clutching at her sister's sleeve as she passed.

‘I merely asked her if she wished the whole of London to know her sorrows and advised her not to wear her heart upon her sleeve!’ returned that lady caustically.

Her tactics seemed to work. Throughout the dinner party that followed,
Charlotte
was in brilliant spirits. About twenty of Lady Northwood's most distinguished friends had been invited and Miss Wrexham was bent on impressing them. Miss Milverly was quite lost in admiration. She could not quite see how
Charlotte
managed to capture the general attention as she had. She did not put herself forward in the least, nor talk loudly, nor do any of the hoydenish things that she, Amelia, was so often censured for. Nevertheless, no one who saw
Charlotte
that night would ever forget her.

Dinner was over by nine, and, soon after, the guests began to arrive for the ball. Charlotte had, of course, many acquaintances in town already, but it was early in the season and for many of the ton this was the first real event of the season. Therefore, Miss Wrexham was to see and be seen by a great many people who had previously been unaware of her existence. Before the evening was halfway over, it was settled;
Charlotte
was all the rage.