Autumn in Scotland Page 7

  “My rights?” Charlotte nearly choked on the words.

  “Her reaction means something,” Gladys said.

  “Of course, how foolish we are not to have noticed.” Lady Eleanor leaned forward and patted Charlotte’s hand. “You haven’t had any pleasure, have you, my dear?”

  “Is it too late for a lover?” Mary asked.

  “I do believe so. Her husband is in residence. I doubt he would accept a lover with alacrity.”

  “Unless he enjoys voyeurism,” Gladys said. “Is that the case, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte shook her head, less in negation of the question as to banish the sight of them from her vision. This must be a dream. No, a nightmare. They were the products of a distorted mind.

  She’d drunk too much punch at the ball.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and pushed away the women’s conversation. After a moment, she opened her eyes again, but they were still there.

  “Well, we cannot solve this problem in one meeting,” Lady Eleanor said crisply, standing and motioning to the other women. “It might be interesting to have a few meetings here, instead of in Edinburgh. You certainly have the staff to accommodate us.” She smiled. “Especially that delicious young footman, Mark. Do make sure he’s here the next time.”

  Charlotte felt ice travel down her spine.

  “You can’t have your meetings here. What if someone finds out?” She pushed herself to an upright position. What would dissuade the woman? “There is my reputation to consider, Lady Eleanor. And that of the school’s.”

  “Nonsense, my dear. It shouldn’t signify. The Edification Society has adopted you, Charlotte. Besides, our sponsorship will guarantee your school’s success.”

  “I offer a good curriculum,” Charlotte said weakly. “I teach the graces, of course, but I also offer mathematics, philosophy, Latin, and logic. I’d prefer to attract students in that fashion.”

  “Very well, but having twenty of the most influential ladies of Edinburgh behind you will not be amiss.”

  “Behind me?”

  “I must communicate with the other members, but we cannot allow George to continue as he is.”

  “You can’t?” Charlotte asked.

  “It wasn’t well done of him. He needs to be punished for his sins.”

  “A velvet whip,” Gladys suggested.

  “A little deprivation,” Mary added. “But first, he needs a taste of what he’s missing.”

  “I mean to divorce him.” Charlotte could swear the inward gasps nearly sucked the air from the room.

  “Oh, that will never do,” Lady Eleanor said. “Divorce scares off potential suitors and even lovers, my dear. Besides, he is such a lovely specimen of manhood. Why on earth would you banish him from your bed?”

  “He did that on his own.”

  “The cur,” Mary said. “You should most definitely punish him. Tongue him nearly to release, then refuse to let him climax. That should do it.”

  “Make him suffer,” Lady Eleanor said. “Make him writhe in agony, my dear. Women have always had the upper hand. The problem is that they haven’t known how to use it.”

  Could this day—the last two days—be any worse? First, George returns without a regretful bone in his body. And now this, adopted by a bizarre group of women whose sole intent seemed to be to interest her in the wifely arts.

  Dear God, what had she ever done to deserve this?

  She wanted to pull the blanket over her head, sink down under the covers and pretend they really were part of a nightmare. But Lady Eleanor was looking at her oddly, as if she knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “We shall return,” Lady Eleanor said again. “When we do, we’ll bring our entire group and some of our supplies.”

  “Creams that smell delightful,” Mary said, “for use in the most interesting ways.”

  “A few velvet whips,” Gladys added.

  “Really, it’s not necessary.” Charlotte held up her hands, but the women paid no attention to her.

  “Nonsense. If you don’t do it for yourself, you must do it for womenkind.”

  “Must I?”

  “He has not acted in the best manner, Charlotte,” Lady Eleanor said sternly. “He must be seen to have learned his lesson.”

  “But I don’t want him as a husband.”

  “Then take him as a lover, but teach him a lesson first.”

  All three of them smiled.

  Chapter 6

  S he dressed by herself, banishing Maisie with the excuse that she wasn’t fit for company. Let her maid think it was George’s appearance that had so discomfited her. His sudden restoration to Balfurin was only partly responsible for her mood—The Edification Society was responsible for the rest.

  She’d worked long and tirelessly to accomplish something with the school. Charlotte had modernized Balfurin, transforming the crumbling castle into an institution of learning. It was she who poured over the lesson plans, who spent the last of her grandfather’s legacy on new books, and who had restored the gardens so the girls would have a place to stroll.

  When she’d first started the school, she’d only had five students, but she’d persevered. By the second year, after a great many luncheons, teas, and talks with groups of women, she’d increased the enrollment to nearly a hundred. Now, the school housed nearly two hundred students for the eight months of term.

  She must dissuade Lady Eleanor and her friends from meeting here. She left her chamber, her mind on ways in which she could suggest that it wouldn’t be convenient, in a way that wouldn’t insult the relative of a duke.

  “It’s one thing to starve me, madam, but I would have thought your generosity extended to the servants. Matthew shouldn’t be punished for his affiliation to me.”

  She jerked to a stop and stared at him.

  “George.”

  She couldn’t help but think of what Lady Eleanor had said—something about tonguing him almost to satisfaction and then leaving him frustrated. Heat traveled from deep inside her to her cheeks as she stared at him.

  “Good morning, Charlotte.” He smiled at her. What a very pleasant smile he had, and why hadn’t she ever noticed it before? Perhaps because he’d never smiled at her.

  “Are you always sunny in the morning, George?”

  “Something you should remember, surely.”

  She blinked at him. “A week is hardly long enough to be accustomed to a husband’s moods. Besides, I don’t believe I ever saw you in the morning.”

  “Truly?” He smiled again, and she decided that it wasn’t so much a pleasant expression as it was a goading one.

  “How annoying you can be.”

  “I’m hungry,” he said, “and I’m always annoying when I’m hungry.”

  “Something I shall endeavor to remember,” she said, preceding him down the stairs.

  “Aren’t you going to ask if I slept well?”

  No, she wasn’t going to be amiable to him at all. It was better if she recalled that he’d deserted her after a week, stealing her money and leaving her to find her own way in the world. Besides, he looked rested and well dressed. Surely, if he’d slept poorly there would have been lines around his dark blue eyes, or dark circles beneath them.

  Irritating man.

  “Come with me,” she said, deciding that the clamor of breakfast in the student dining room was exactly what he deserved.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, and she turned left. He followed her, silent and menacing, like a giant shadow she’d somehow acquired.

  “Are you glad to be home?” she asked, more for something to say than truly wishing to know.

  “It’s been a melancholy visit,” he said.

  Surprised, she glanced at him.

  “The people I loved are gone, and the others don’t seem to recognize me.”

  She flushed again, wondering if he was referring to that moment last night when she’d stared at him as if he were a ghost.

  How odd that she didn’t rememb
er George being quite so, well, handsome.

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t been gone so long you wouldn’t find that to be true,” she said. “Perhaps people’s memories have faded.”

  “Perhaps there were reasons I was gone.”

  “What reasons could there have been? Are you saying I forced you from London? From England?” She waved her hand in the air. “Forgive me, now is not the time to discuss your reasons for leaving. We will have to make time to do so.”

  “Will we?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But don’t think there is any chance of a reconciliation for us, George. I have no intention of letting you into my life. Once was quite enough, thank you.”

  Besides, she’d already decided that she much preferred Spencer to George.

  She halted at the entrance to the dining room and faced her husband. “It would have been better if you’d not returned, you know. People had grown accustomed to your absence.”

  “You mean yourself, of course.”

  “Among others.”

  “Do you find it easy to live alone, then, Charlotte?”

  “Better alone than in tandem with a man I cannot respect.”

  “You mean me, of course,” he said.

  “It’s time for breakfast.”

  “I’d prefer an answer more than I would a meal.”

  “I have no intention of answering you, George. Perhaps later. Or perhaps I’ll just disappear like you did.”

  “Ah, but then I’d welcome you home with open arms, Charlotte. I might even keep a candle burning in the window until you returned. There were so many candles burning last night that surely some of them must have been for me. Didn’t you ever think I’d return?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Never? Why shouldn’t I return? Everything I left is still here. My home. My wife.”

  “You haven’t shown any concern for either Balfurin or me in the last five years, George. Am I supposed to believe that you care now?” She forced a smile to her face more for the benefit of the watching students than him.

  “Perhaps I’ve changed,” he said.

  “Perhaps you want money. I haven’t any to spare.”

  “I do.”

  Startled, she just stared at him, uncertain what to say. He’d never been generous in the past. She didn’t want him to change, be someone she had to know all over again. Annoyed, she frowned at him.

  “I’m considered quite wealthy. Almost a pasha, if you believe Matthew.”

  “How fortunate for you,” she said, the words bitten out one by one.

  “Do you need anything, Charlotte? Tell me what you need, and I’ll provide it.”

  “Your absence, George. Please.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t leave,” he said. “There’s something I must do.”

  “What?” She folded her arms around her waist and forced her shoulders level. Her chin tilted up and she prayed that her smile was somewhat genuine, at least to him. Those who knew her well would know she was wearing her parents’ face, that expression a headmistress wore when dealing with either exasperating parents or the too lenient parents of exasperating students.

  George, however, was the most exasperating person she’d talked to in five years.

  “Balfurin is mine.”

  She felt the blood leave her face. She bit her lip and then immediately released it. He mustn’t know how upset she was by that comment.

  “Balfurin was a disaster when I came here. There were chickens in the Great Hall, and there wasn’t a room in the castle fit to sleep in. I spent every cent of my grandfather’s legacy to modernize Balfurin, and now you claim it as yours?” She laughed, and the sound was curiously hollow. “I’ll buy it from you,” she said suddenly.

  “What price would you put on a legacy?”

  “A legacy? Why didn’t you think that five years ago? The Orient evidently called to you more than your legacy.”

  “I’m sorry, but I cannot sell it. Surely you know that. It’s entailed for the heir. Shall we have an heir?”

  She had never been a violent person. She’d never wanted to strike anyone until this moment. Now she wanted to slap that half smile off his face, see her handprint on his cheek. She wanted to shock him, startle him out of his charm, and to reveal the real person he was beneath his sudden affability.

  He looked as if he knew it, too, with his half smile and the lines crinkling around his eyes. He must have smiled a great deal in the last five years. Strange that she didn’t remember his eyes being quite so blue.

  George was George, but he wasn’t. It was as if he were more than himself, taller, broader, his eyes a more intense shade, his smile more charming. Five years had matured him, changed him from a man who could leave a young wife to…what? A man who’d offered her money.

  “Why did you return?”

  He shrugged, an effortless gesture that annoyed her. “Perhaps I missed you, wife. We hadn’t time to become acquainted. A week, you said, wasn’t it? I wonder what I was thinking?”

  “That the downstairs maid looked ripe for the plucking, no doubt.”

  From the look on his face she’d finally managed to startle him.

  “Surely I wasn’t so foolish as to dally with the servants.”

  “I found you with one of the maids one night. You didn’t even bother to go to her room. The corner was good enough. You flirted outrageously with my sisters, our guests, anything female. I’m surprised you didn’t go after the bitches in the kennel.”

  He smiled, as if genuinely amused. “Charlotte, I was an idiot to look at anyone if you were nearby.”

  “Do you really think I’m foolish enough to listen to your blandishments? I wasn’t jesting, George, I’ve tried divorcing you. It’s not a rare feat in Scotland.”

  “On what grounds, Charlotte?”

  She really wished he wouldn’t smile at her in that way.

  “Desertion.”

  “Ah, but I’ve returned. And I’ve no intention of leaving.”

  She stared at him for a moment. The impulse to strike him was so strong that she almost gave in to the temptation. But her hand was too soft. Perhaps if she had a brick. Or a boulder. Or a stick.

  Two girls dashed out of the doorway to the dining room, both giggling. At seeing her they sobered momentarily, long enough to walk in a subdued fashion to the corner. Once there, however, they began to race down the corridor, the sound of their laughter an odd backdrop to the tension between the two of them.

  “Go away, George,” she said wearily. “There’s nothing here for you. As far as a legacy, Balfurin survived without you. Perhaps even despite you.”

  He looked as if he’d like to say something, but he only smiled. His pleasant mood was becoming increasingly annoying. But why should he be agitated? He hadn’t remained behind all these years. No, he’d traveled the world—on her money.

  “Refund my dowry,” she said abruptly.

  Once again she’d managed to surprise him. Good, it was about time he looked as discomfited as she felt.

  “The money you took when you left me.” She named the amount, and one of his eyebrows arched in surprise.

  He didn’t say anything, and she was grateful to note that his smile had slipped. His face was carefully bland, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. George was annoyed, perhaps even angry.

  “Is there someone waiting in the wings, Charlotte? Is that why you’re so desperate to divorce your husband?”

  She’d never met anyone who referred to himself so distantly. She frowned at him, but answered him anyway. “Whoever I feel affection for is none of your business, George.”

  “On the contrary, I find it’s very much my business. If nothing else, I’m head of the family.”

  Before she could comment, he moved beside her, and then inside the dining hall. She’d wanted him to feel awkward among so many young girls, but it was obvious he was comfortable with being the center of attention. All of the remaining students fell silent and one by one they began to
stare.

  He was too attractive to remain in residence. His black hair gleamed in the sun streaming in from the upper windows. His blue eyes were the color of the fair Scottish sky, and his smile could have charmed hearts from Edinburgh to London.

  Damn him.

  She thanked Providence that the term was ending today, and all of the suddenly awestruck females were going home.

  Chapter 7

  B reakfast was abysmal, and it was all George’s fault.

  She and the other teachers didn’t normally share their meals with the students—it was one of the few times during the day that she was exempt from being the headmistress. The young maids who worked at Balfurin took turns being both chaperones and servants to the two hundred girls at the school.

  She and the ten teachers ate in the smaller, more private dining room adjacent to the Great Hall. Here they discussed their morning or their afternoon classes, depending upon what meal was being served. They rarely paid any heed to the noise in the dining hall. For that matter, there was rarely any sound emanating from the dining room except for the low drone of young female voices.

  Today, however, every time she leaned forward to speak to her companion, a burst of laughter interrupted her. More than once, she sent an irritated look toward the connecting door.

  “Whatever can he be doing?” she finally asked after a resounding bout of laughter.

  “It sounds as if he’s charmed them completely,” the mathematics teacher said. Charlotte shook her head and returned to her breakfast.

  Perhaps she should have insisted that he eat with her and the teachers. But then, he would no doubt have charmed the adult females as well. He had that sort of smile.

  The door to the hall opened suddenly, and for a fleeting second she thought it might be him. She framed a scathing response as she turned. But it wasn’t George; it was his servant, Matthew. Today the man was dressed in a brilliant red jacket embroidered with fanciful birds with multicolored feathers. The black garment beneath his jacket looked suspiciously like a skirt. His slippers were silk with the toes pointing skyward.

  He was quite the most exotic thing she had ever seen, especially at Balfurin.