An Heir of Deception (3 page)

“You haven’t changed a bit, still just as bossy as ever,” Charlotte teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Her sister would have time to reproach her on her inadequate diet later.

Desperate to hold off the questions sure to come, she turned to her surroundings. Her gaze swept the three-story vestibule and down the wide corridor of the picture gallery ahead. “Though the same can’t be said of this place. I hardly recognize it anymore.”

Katie came immediately to her side, hooking her arm through Charlotte’s as if she couldn’t bear any physical distance between them. She followed the direction of Charlotte’s gaze. “Yes, Missy redecorated three summers ago. I’m proud to say I did have a small hand in the effort. I selected the chandelier.” Her sister angled them toward the front and pointed at the elaborate crystal-and-glass light fixture soaring high above the entrance hall. “A fine choice if I daresay.”

Charlotte nodded in agreement. Her sister had always had exquisite taste.

“Missy insisted on a décor more suited to children. The rugs were purchased when the floors met with one too many of her treasured Wedgwood vases. Marble tends to be terribly unforgiving that way.” Her sister’s laughter rang throughout the hall, ebullient and light. “But the alterations have added a warmth that was lacking before. Don’t you think it looks and feels more like a home and less like a museum than when the dowager lived here?”

Charlotte nodded mutely as a frisson of fear coursed the length of her spine at the mention of her half brothers’ mother. She did not want to think about her—could not bear to.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze to admire the Persian rug beneath her booted feet, and continued on to take in silk-papered walls done in dark green. Also gracing the hall were two walnut tables inlaid with a lighter wood, and several chairs with cushioned seats in which a weary bottom might actually find comfort.

“Yes, it certainly does.”

Months after the death of their father, the dowager Countess of Windmere had moved to Devon and James had taken possession of the manor home. Charlotte had found the place as cold and sterile as its previous occupant. Although they had never been formally introduced, the dowager had made no secret of her intense dislike of her and Katie. But given they were the illegitimate issue of the woman’s husband
and
born only months after Christopher, her youngest son, her feelings were understandable and expected. However, the dowager had carried her hatred too far. The letter and the threat had revealed how truly vindictive she could be.

“While I was sad for James and Christopher when she passed away, I must admit to a sense of relief knowing our paths would never cross again.”

Charlotte’s next breath emerged a serrated gasp. Her head snapped to the side and she stared at Katie, mouth agape. “She is dead?” She spoke in a hushed whisper as if terrified of waking the woman from her resting place.

Her sister sent her a puzzled frown, her winged brows collecting over a slender nose. “Surely you cannot be distressed?” Katie chided. “You know how I normally refrain from the use of clichés, but truly that woman was the bane of my existence. If you had remained, you would have been similarly affected. I’m certain if not for that wretched woman, I would have married ages ago. But no, despite the fact that James threatened to cut off her funds, she told everyone who would listen that we were James’s sisters and not his cousins. Illegitimate and not at all good enough for their precious sons.”

Charlotte didn’t respond immediately, still trying to digest the enormity of what she’d just learned. With the dowager gone, so too was the threat she had posed. Which meant for the first time in years she could breathe easy.

“Wh-when did she die?”

“Early last year. I would have told you had I the correct address in which to send my correspondence,” Katie replied with a note of censure in her voice. “I do not believe you ever used the same return address twice.”

Guilt warmed Charlotte’s cheeks. Lucas had posted the letters for her when he traveled to England on business. It had been the only way to ensure no one discovered her whereabouts.

But to learn the dowager had been dead an entire year made her wish for something solid to sit on.

Certainly if she had shared the information, something would have surfaced by now. And she could not fathom her brother taking his family to London with a scandal of that magnitude about his sisters raging within the drawing rooms of Mayfair. Dare she hope the woman had taken it with her to her grave as it appeared she had?

She shot Katie a glance. It would appear their secret was safe.

“I imagine it must have been a very difficult time for James and Christopher.” This Charlotte could say with all honesty.

Her sister gave her a sidelong look. “I feared you were going to start spouting empty platitudes about how sorry you are that she is gone. She was a simply horrible woman, and I have not missed her one little bit.”

No, Charlotte could not have lied about that. The woman had been the cause of enough pain and heartbreak to ensure that three generations of Rutherfords wallowed in misery. “As I said before,
you
haven’t changed a’tall,” she said dryly. Her sister did not believe in being agreeable for propriety’s sake.

Katie flashed an infectious grin. “And why should I change? As I recall it was the only way anyone could tell us apart. Should I become kind and agreeable, I could very well be mistaken for you.”

“And we certainly wouldn’t want that.” Charlotte felt lighter than she had in years. Such a shame it was due to the death of someone close to the brothers she loved that had been responsible for relieving her of an enormous weight. “Although, that happened often enough when we first came to live with James.”

For their newly discovered brother and his bride, telling her and Katie apart had come down to the simple matter of her sister’s birthmark—a tiny mole on the nape of her neck. The memory of Missy craning her neck in a not-so-subtle attempt to determine the existence—or lack thereof—of said birthmark brought a small smile to Charlotte’s face, eliciting a stark feeling of nostalgia.

“Yes, the only person who never confused us was Al—” Katie’s eyes flashed wide with alarm. “I didn’t mean to—I mean….”

Tears stung Charlotte’s eyes and her chest constricted. She pulled her sister’s arm tighter against her side and whispered, “It is fine. I shan’t break at the mention of his name. Truly. In any case, it was I who…” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Alex has always been a big part of our—your life. I certainly don’t expect you to change anything to suit me.”

With a tiny nod, Katie drew Charlotte into the circle of her arms for a gentle hug before setting her away. “Come, you must be famished. Off with your cloak and I shall have the cook prepare you something to eat. Then I can tell you everything that has happened to me these last five years and you can tell me everything you did not include in your letters. I assume you hired a hackney from the station in town.”

Without giving Charlotte an opportunity to respond, her sister turned to Reeves, who stood far enough away as to allow them privacy, but close enough to be summoned to duty forthwith. “Reeves, please have the footmen retrieve my sister’s belongings from the coach.”

“No!” The response sprang sharp and unbidden from Charlotte’s mouth. Even she could hear the panic threading her tone.

Both Reeves and Katie treated her to a look of surprise.

“I mean not yet. Katie, there is something I need to tell you—”

A movement, a figure, in the corner of her vision halted her speech. Charlotte shifted her gaze. Her breath and her world came to a shuddering halt.

Alex.

He rounded the stretch of hall leading from the study. Their eyes met across a distance of some forty feet.

Her breath left her completely then. The air surrounding her became charged and hot.

His stride might have faltered but he recovered so swiftly, she couldn’t be certain she hadn’t imagined it.

Charlotte stood frozen, ensnared as deftly and completely as a rabbit in the presence of a rattler preparing to strike. She watched as he proceeded down the seemingly endless corridor toward her.

Senses starved for the flesh-and-blood man greedily tried to take him in all at once, hoarding away every minute detail to take back with her to feed the lonely nights when dreams and memories were all she’d have…and yet still not enough.

Save the measured fall of his footsteps, silence reigned with a parasitic presence that made speech a novelty and breathing a luxury. Charlotte could do nothing but wait in statue-like stillness while her heart picked up its pace. To even blink would have created too much noise.

As he drew closer, she began to make out the subtle changes time had wrought in his visage.

In appearance, he looked much the same as the man she’d known and loved—loved still. With hair the black and shine of obsidian brushing the collar of his tan morning coat, and the delicious little dimple in his chin, he had always been surfeit in looks. But the Alex of old had possessed a wicked sort of charm. His smile, lazy and hinting at deeper passions, had caused the palpitation of many a female heart. Upon their betrothal announcement, the gossip sheets had stated the sound of those very same hearts breaking could be heard from Cornwall to Northumberland.

At present, however, it appeared no smile would dare venture near his lips. Faint lines bracketed his full mouth, the surrounding skin unforgiving in its tautness. And there was an iciness in his expression that pierced her heart with a corresponding blast of cold. He even carried his lean, muscular frame with an aloofness, tight and very controlled.

Any hope she would find in him a smidgeon of warmth, an inkling of the affection he’d once felt for her, wilted and died under his regard. Yet she remained resolute as he advanced upon her, awaiting the first words they would exchange since the day before what should have been their wedding day.

With his every step, her anxiety climbed and her heart stumbled over the hurdle an ocean and five years had created. Twenty steps separating them became ten and then five. He stopped just shy of an arm’s length of her. Continuing to imprison her with his silver-eyed gaze, he finally spoke. “I see you have company.”

Charlotte nearly wept at the sound of his voice, a smoky baritone. Perhaps that was the reason it took her a moment to comprehend he was speaking to Katie and not her. That it was she to whom he referred as
company
.

“Alex, I had no idea you were here,” her sister said with an uncharacteristic catch in her voice.

After a taut silence, he yanked his gaze from Charlotte’s and turned to include her sister in his regard as well as his address. “I instructed Reeves not to disturb you when I arrived. I’m just here to retrieve some documents your brother left for me.”

It was then Charlotte noticed the large envelope gripped tightly in his hand. A death grip.

“Um, Alex, Ch-Charlotte has ju-just now arrived.”

Never had Charlotte heard her sister stammer so. Given the circumstances, it was
she
who should be rattled and out of sorts. She was all that and more. Utterly overwhelmed and buffeted by so many emotions, the paramount of which she still could not name.

“So I see,” he replied in clipped tones, keeping his gaze averted from her. As telling and deliberate a gesture as she’d ever witnessed.

Charlotte knew then she would have to initiate any form of communication between them. And who else should do it if not her.

“Hello, Alex,” she said, finding her courage and her voice. But never had two words taken so much effort to speak.

His jaw firmed, his nostrils flared and an ominous stillness settled over him. A moment later he gave her sister a brisk nod. “I shall leave you to your guest. Good day, Catherine.” His gaze did not venture in her direction again. It was as if, to him, she’d ceased to exist.

Charlotte turned to watch as his long strides carried him across the wool rugs on the marble floors, through the entrance hall, and out the front door.

Lord, he wouldn’t even acknowledge her. She’d have preferred he’d railed and cursed her. She’d rather he’d shaken her like a ragdoll. Anything would have been better than being so ignored.

The weight of her sister’s hand settled on the curve of her shoulder, comforting and warm. “He is in shock. You must give him time to adjust to your…presence.” Though the words were meant to placate her, Katie’s tone held a hint of something else, a pained sort of despair. As if she herself was experiencing Charlotte’s hurt.

But Charlotte knew he would never forgive her. The entire situation would simply grow ever more intolerable. The sooner she returned to America, the better it would be for everyone. To see him was to be constantly reminded of all she’d lost and all she’d had to walk away from. It would simply be too much.

“Where is he staying? The guesthouse? Have I just sent him in search of other accommodations?” Charlotte imagined he’d be departing the place shortly.

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Alex purchased Gretchen Manor two years back. Do you remember it?”

Charlotte briefly lowered her lids, only able to dip her head in response. Of course she remembered the Palladian-style manor house with its portico, towering columns and lush, green lawns. She’d fallen in love with it on sight. The house was no more than ten miles down the road, an easy distance by carriage or on horseback. Alex lived but a stone’s throw away.