The Duke's Broken Heart Read online

  “The real question is, should we involve Phin in this?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Everett stared at the ceiling and then into John’s eyes. “Frankly, John, I would need to consider that. His thinking isn’t clear right now. Being turned away at Charlotte’s door has been a big blow to him.”

  Everett leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.

  “He is the best friend I have. I’m conflicted about pursuing this behind his back versus including him and getting his hopes up. Maybe, we find out if it exists before involving him. Then, if it exists and could be useful, it is only right he be part of it.”

  John nodded. “Fair enough. I think a search needs to be made. But that means he can’t be around when someone else searches his townhouse. I imagine it will need to be a thorough search.”

  Everett’s lips curved into a smile. “Yes, well between Mercy and me, we can conspire to accomplish the search. I’ll conduct business with Phin here that will last several hours. Mercy and the servants can conduct the search at the same time.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll wait for word on how the search went.”

  ***

  Journal Entry – Elizabeth came back from the pawnshop with only 10 pounds for that gilded mirror. I have a mind to go down there and see what he really gave her. Just like everyone else, she’s taking my money. Phin closed out all my accounts, the bastard. I’m rid of him. He can never stop me from going to Maggie’s again. Why do I care? I asked myself. All those accounts were empty. Who cares? I care!!! When I win, where am I supposed to put all my winnings? Where am I supposed to put Mercy’s dowry money? He took it all away from me.

  ***

  Charlotte finally relented and received Mercy for afternoon tea on Thursday. That gave her time to gain her composure. She had sent her away twice this past week and thought herself cruel. She shouldn’t punish Mercy.

  “I’ve been worried about you, Charlotte. Would you consider taking a ride with me tomorrow morning at dawn? Or shop with me, but only to dress shops that don’t allow men? Have you been in this parlour for the last week?”

  Charlotte gave a small smile. “Mercy, thank you. I would love to go riding at dawn. Shopping, no. There are too many people we could run into, people with too many questions.”

  “I understand. But, you have to admit,” she said with a smile, “no one will be riding at dawn.”

  “They won’t if you don’t tell them,” Charlotte said, looking Mercy in the eyes.

  “Deal.”

  “So, tell me the news. You attended a ball on Wednesday?”

  Mercy grinned. “We went to Chase’s ball on Wednesday evening. Charlotte, you remember Jan Reynolds?”

  “Of course.”

  “She wore a bright, yellow gown. I think Jan gorgeous, and she really is nice once you get to know her. I just hope I don’t make a fashion faux pas that bad.

  “And poor Thomas Rand. He has to get over his infatuation with Anna. She spent half the night keeping an eye out for him so she could duck an invitation to dance. I believe he’s taken all the fun of going to a ball for her.”

  Charlotte hesitated. “I feel that way, Mercy. Between Bernard and your brother, I don’t believe going out would be any fun. Aunt Genevieve thinks we should leave town. We would start again next season.”

  “If you think Phin would be a problem, I’ll tell him, make sure he doesn’t approach you,” Mercy said.

  Charlotte huffed, then calmed herself. “I’m sorry Mercy. I know you mean well, but I would be too self-conscious being in the same room as Phin. How could I enjoy conversation or dance with the gentlemen while he’s somewhere in the room watching me?”

  Mercy didn’t want Charlotte to be in distress over Phin. “I’ll tell him he can’t go to any more balls this season. He’ll do that. You were the only reason he went to those things anyway. Besides, he may marry and leave the city. He’s miserable here. Silas can be my chaperone. He will make the trip down to meet the man who is interested in me if we were to find such a man.”

  “Married? Who would he marry? Was he courting someone else when he was courting me?”

  Mercy snorted. “Of course not, Charlotte. He didn’t notice the entire female population of London when he was courting you. You must have heard his original plan.

  “When he got off the boat from India, he wanted to find a nice, shy girl and go live at Collinswood. He’s pretty much decided to go back to that plan. I think he is in no frame of mind to do such a thing, mind you.”

  Mercy paused. “It’s too painful for him here in London. He knows nothing will change. He understands that so he just wants to go. See? You don’t have to leave town. He will.”

  Mercy noticed tears were running down Charlotte’s cheeks as she talked about Phin. Her heart ached for her.

  Mercy was sure Charlotte wouldn’t want her sitting there watching her cry. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Friday at dawn, weather permitting?”

  Charlotte wiped her tears with her handkerchief and nodded.

  Mercy walked out the door heartbroken to see Charlotte in such pain.

  Chapter 17

  Bernard stood in a small alley, across the street from Charlotte’s townhouse. It had been four days since he proposed to her. She said she would give him an answer to his proposal in a week. He shivered in the damp, sunless alley. It was slowly dawning on him that she was giving him her answer now. Bernard watched as Phin walked up her stairs and knocked on Charlotte’s door. Quinn came out and told him the same thing. She wasn’t receiving. Phin left, dejected.

  Bernard pitied Phin. The man left with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, eyes on the ground in front of him. He looked that way yesterday when Bernard stood in this very same alley. At least I was never in love with her, he thought.

  As he leaned against the cold stones, he wondered what he was going to do now. He felt oddly calm about his predicament. Leisurely marking his time watching Charlotte’s townhouse was not relaxing, mind you, but he was doing something. Little as it was.

  He decided he was going to have to kidnap her. He decided Merritt would help. Just roll the carriage to a stop next to her while she was walking with her aunt. Shove her into the carriage, bind and gag her while the carriage hurried to Gretna Green. She may never forgive him, but he didn’t care. Once the money was squared away, he would try to make the best of it with her.

  So, every day he asked to be received, and every day he was turned away. Every day he watched Phin get turned away. Then he waited. He waited until dusk. They never went anywhere. They never left the house. Bernard began to see there would be no kidnapping.

  Dusk fell, and Bernard shook his head. How was he going to kidnap Charlotte if she never left home?

  From his hidden spot across the street from Charlotte’s townhouse, Bernard saw a servant lighting candles in the parlour, the windows magically turning yellow. Time to go home. He’d try it again, tomorrow.

  The streets were noisy at dusk, people rushing to get where they needed to be. Bernard walked on the pavement, but the mass of people who walked in the street caused the London traffic to come to a standstill. He passed one stopped carriage after another, all unable to move.

  He felt a hand grab his coat from the back and was propelled into the nearest alley, blocked by two men in front of him and one behind. With not a word, one of them hit Bernard hard in his left eye sending searing pain down his spine. He went down, but he never hit the ground. He was hit again in his right eye, feeling his eyeball pushed back by the force. His face felt on fire.

  The man behind him was holding up Bernard under the armpits. The first man hit him in the stomach several times one blow after another. He heard the ‘ouff’ sound he made as if it were coming from someone else far away. After the stomach, the thug then went back to Bernard’s face. A blow to the left cheek snapped his head to the right with such force Bernard thought his neck broken.

  That was the last punch he could process. M
ore came to his face and midsection, and his body could feel the pain as his mind reacted to each blow seconds after it happened. He could feel the pain in his stomach and felt his body fold in pain, but it was delayed like thunder was delayed after lightning.

  One last knee to his groin, and Bernard couldn’t move. His head bounced off the cobblestones when he hit the ground. His ear took most of the hit and started ringing. He thought they were done and would walk away, but they didn’t.

  One of them kicked his ribs on the left side as another kicked his ribs on the right side. His head was lolling back and forth in an almost rhythmic beat to each kick. From very far away, a voice asked, “Are we supposed to break anything?”

  Another one, standing near his head talked into the fierce wind, only there wasn’t any wind in the alley. “Naw, let’s go.”

  Bernard wished he would pass out. The pain was so great that he should pass out, shouldn’t he? While lying there, he tried to figure out which body part hurt the most. Then he wondered if there was a part of his body that didn’t hurt. Could he stand? No. He became aware of the filthy stream in the alley. Human and animal waste flowing down the cobblestones at his cheek. Could he roll onto his back? Yes.

  A few hours later, when it was pitch dark, and the city was quiet, a street urchin came upon him.

  “Can you talk?”

  That was a good question Bernard didn’t know the answer to. He opened his mouth. A sound like a grunt came out.

  The street urchin gathered three more of his friends. The first one whispered, “Let’s carry him out to the pavement. Someone will come across him and help him.”

  He went through all Bernard’s pockets and took everything of value, which wasn’t much. “To make you lighter to carry,” he said with a smile.

  The four of them were not careful while carrying Bernard. He was picked up by his four extremities, but one carried a leg three feet higher than the other one, and one arm kept slipping out of someone’s hands. He hit the pavement hard. The scream was loud and high-pitched. The street urchins scattered.

  Bernard didn’t remember who carried him home or how they knew where he lived. All he knew when he opened small slits in his eyes was that the sun was bright, he was laying on the top step of his townhouse, and Merritt was trying to talk to him.

  Merritt fished out the extra key in the dirt of the planter that sat by the door. He opened the door, put the key back and dragged Bernard inside. “Can you talk?”

  Bernard said something incoherent.

  “You stink. You’ve probably been lying in the chamber pot stream all night?”

  Again, Bernard was incoherent.

  “This is what I’m going to do. I’ll get someone to send a message telling a couple of my servants to come here and clean you up. My mother’s healer once told me if you have an open cut, it’s easy to get the fever in dirty water.

  Once you’re bathed and dressed, we have to solve this thing. I’ll be in your office writing a note.”

  Bernard let Merritt’s servants take off his clothes and guide him into the bath. Someone washed him thoroughly. Even though his head ached far beyond anything he ever felt before, he appreciated having his hair washed. It took three servants to lift him out of the tub where he stood on wobbly legs while someone dried him. He was dressed in a nightshirt and ushered into bed. He knew Merritt would wake him when he needed him.

  Chapter 18

  Charlotte promised Aunt Genevieve she would come to the parlour for tea. She didn’t want to leave her room, but her promise won out.

  John Beasley was visiting Aunt Genevieve when Charlotte came in. After their formal greetings, John sat and turned to Charlotte.

  “I asked your aunt if she thought you would have any interest in coming for a visit to my country estate. It might be a nice change of scenery for you. London can seem like a small town sometimes. You don’t have to answer now, Charlotte. I would like you to know it’s an option for you.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I will consider it. My mind is a little muddled right now,” she said with a shrug.

  “Not at all, not at all.”

  Aunt Genevieve turned to the Duke and began asking about a particular flower that grew in his part of the country. Meanwhile, Charlotte’s mind wandered. What was Phin doing now? He and Everett were always working on bringing things from India that Londoners might like. Was he doing that? Did he ever think about her? Probably not like she thought about him.

  She went back and forth on whether she could marry him with his tarnished reputation. She wanted to. She really did, but she couldn’t.

  Charlotte thought this most upsetting. The barrier to a happy life was built on innuendos, speculation, and little fact. It was frustrating, to say the least. She supposed that was the way of the world. She didn’t have to like it.

  “Charlotte, dear. Charlotte?” Aunt Genevieve was speaking, and Charlotte wasn’t even listening. “Pardon?”

  “You are miles away. John would like to know if you would like to go to a play this evening.”

  “Oh, no thank you. I find the lobby at those plays ridiculously crowded.”

  “What if we went early and went straight to my box? We won’t even stop in the lobby. At intermission, I will bring you ladies champagne,” John said. Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but Genevieve spoke first. She turned and faced Charlotte.

  “Charlotte, I would like you to do this for me. I cannot accompany John alone. I would like to get out of this townhouse and go to a play. It seems like a simple request. Please, Charlotte. Reconsider for me.”

  “As you wish, Aunt. But,” she said, turning to John, “I would like to take you up on your offer to escort us early and directly to our seats.”

  ***

  Charlotte watched from her bedchamber window, cheeks wet with tears. Phin walked down the front stairs, onto the pavement. He turned, looked up at the front parlour window and walked away.

  Charlotte left her window to lie on top of her bed and rolled to face the wall. She grabbed her knees to her chest and sobbed. Four days in a row; he came four days in a row and was turned away.

  She missed him – missed his quirky stories of life in India – missed the triumphant feeling she got when she made him laugh. She missed hearing about his import business and all the goods he was planning to bring to England. But most of all, she missed the way he looked at her. No one else looked at her that way. No one else ever would.

  She would never find another man like him. She once thought she would end up with a man who was the life of the party. She wanted that once. To be in the thick of it, laughing until her belly hurt.

  She heard opposites attract but never believed it. How could she get along with someone so very different from her? How could he get along with someone so very different from him? But they did. They fit like two puzzle pieces. Pieces that didn’t fit anywhere else.

  She would never again find a puzzle piece that fit. She started sobbing again.

  She heard a knock on her door and the sound of the latch being raised.

  “Charlotte, it’s me,” Aunt Genevieve said.

  Charlotte didn’t move. With her back to her aunt, she continued to cry silent tears. She felt the dip of the mattress and a hand on her shoulder.

  “Charlotte, love, we need to talk about our social schedule. We’ve missed four days. Are we to begin attending events again or should we think about leaving and starting over next season? Our trip to the theatre? That’s no way to attend the theatre.

  Charlotte rolled to look at her aunt. “Am I to see Phin and Bernard at every event we attend? If so, I don’t know how I could bear it.”

  Aunt Genevieve sighed and cupped her hand to Charlotte’s cheek. “John has volunteered to come with us and let both of them know you are not to be approached.” Aunt Genevieve shrugged. “It’s not the perfect solution, but you won’t need to worry about them bothering you.”

  “Don’t you see, Aunt? Being in the same room with e
ither of them will bother me.”

  Aunt Genevieve nodded. “I think it’s time to consider going home and coming back at the beginning of the next season.”

  “I dreamed of my season since I was a little girl. Finally, it was here. And as I stood looking on, it has slipped away.”

  ***

  John exited Genevieve’s parlour much lighter than he entered. Over his shoulders on his way down the townhouse steps, he saw Charlotte in her bedchamber window. His visit was of no consequence to her. She was at the window, waiting to see if Phin would try to visit. John couldn’t blame him if he chose not to bother.