“Isn’t it terribly improper for you to be sending messages to a gentleman you do not know?” Charity complained.
“That is your concern—propriety? I spent all evening walking up to gentlemen, trying to introduce you, rather than finding a male intermediary. But you’re concerned about me sending a message to the man you’re going to marry within twenty-four hours? Charity, you must stop being so naïve.”
Charity sighed, realizing that they had already walked two blocks away from Stafford House, and in another three blocks, they would be at Millie’s home.
“The carriage,” she said, and Millie shrugged.
“I will send a footman to fetch the carriage, coachman, and my aunt. No doubt she is still asleep. Or has entirely forgotten about us,” she said with a tone that made it clear she was not terribly concerned about the matter at all.
“I cannot believe this night,” Charity said. “I cannot believe I am to be wed to a man I hardly know and without my mother or family or a wedding breakfast—and then to be forced to live with this man? I cannot.”
“You can, and you will,” Millie said sternly. “I do not know why your father wrote in his will that you had to be married before receiving your inheritance, but that is what he wrote. So, wed you must. And better someone like the duke than Markham. In any case, once you have your inheritance, you will have some freedom.”
“How?” Charity complained. “None of it will be mine. All my inheritance will belong to my husband as I am a woman.”
“It is not fair but that is why you must be grateful to have found the duke. He has wealth of his own, he will not seek to control yours, I am sure. Markham on the other hand is known to squander his funds. He would use you for financial gain only.”
Charity stopped and nodded. This was certainly true. However, if the Duke of Leith was not after her fortune, then why was he marrying her? And why had her father put her in this position to begin with? And what of her mother? They would have to tell her at once. Well, after the wedding.
Why had she allowed herself to be drawn into the duke’s tale? Why had Millie? It was not right. None of this was. She should make her own decision, walk her own path. Yet, the one opinion nobody considered in this game was hers. She was but a pawn in a game played by the men in her life—a game her mother willingly took part in. As did Millie. For despite her bravado and bravery, she had quickly joined the duke’s side in convincing her of the logic of this plan.
Her thoughts swirled rapidly through her mind as she walked on, aware that no matter what happened, the life she had known thus far was over.
CHAPTER7
Eammon
Eammon stood outside his uncle Edwin’s townhouse half an hour later and hammered on the door. When the butler opened, he blinked at him in a curious manner, making it clear he had already locked the house up for the night and retired.
“I beg your pardon, Carson, but I must speak to my cousin,” he said and pushed in.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Carson replied as Eammon rushed into the parlor.
He paced the space while Carson went to fetch Thomas, who had made the family’s townhouse his permanent residence. When Thomas stumbled into the parlor, his hands were working to tie the belt around his banyan, and his eyes were heavy with sleep.
“Eammon? What in the world is this? I was already in my nightclothes, ready for bed,” he said, in a tone that gave light to his vexation.
“It is barely gone midnight, and you were already abed?” Eammon observed.
“I am to meet my father in the morning—you know how he is. Six o’clock is late for him. But tell me, why are you here? I thought you were visiting your mother this evening,” he replied as a yawn escaped him.
“I was indeed. However, I found out something this evening that left me no choice but to make my way to Stafford House at once—to claim Lady Charity as my wife. It is rather a tangle, Thomas, and I shall need your help untangling it all.”
Thomas frowned, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Something tells me a stiff drink is in order.” He crossed the room to the sideboard and, without asking, poured two glasses of cognac. Handing one to Eammon, he swiftly downed the other in one swallow.
“Now, tell me. What has happened exactly? You have made an offer of marriage?”
Eammon took a sip, allowing the liquor to warm him, then set the glass aside. “Not quite. I may have indicated that I am already wed to Lady Charity and she agreed. It was the only way to stop her from having to marry Lord Markham.” He paused. “Well, there may have been another way but this was the only thing I could think of in haste.”
Thomas shook his head. “You …Lady Charity? Pembroke’s daughter? You— you are married to her?”
“Not yet. I shall have to be in the morning. However, she and I have made a claim that we already are wed. So as all presume the matter already settled, I shall need your assistance in persuading the registrar to provide the necessary documents. You must serve as witness, along with Lady Charity’s cousin, Millie. As for Uncle Edwin—he must understand that you are unavailable to meet him in the morning. This is more important. This…I must protect the family.”
Thomas threw up his hands. “Protect the family? Start at the beginning. Last we spoke, you had no wish to wed. Now, at near midnight, you tell me the whole ton believes you married a woman you hardly know? And what has Aunt Lydia to do with this?”
Eammon drew a breath, finishing his drink before sinking into a chair.
“I went to call on my mother as I said I would, and while she was delivering her customary lecture on my duty to marry and produce an heir, the topic of Lady Charity arose. I mentioned how I was under the impression that Lord Markham intended to propose this very night. That was when my mother grew rather agitated.”
