Loving a Noble Gentleman: A Historical Regency Romance Book

Mary did not answer Jennifer. Instead, she took her hand and squeezed it as she searched for comfort. “I am going to save her, you know,” she hissed. Mary was not thinking straight; she did not consider for one second that Jennifer might betray her. “I am going to get her away from him.”

She was more determined than ever to make Charlotte leave when she did. According to a letter she recently received from Walter, there were people interested in the house so it seemed like a sale would be made soon, then both girls could go. They would have to hide; they would probably have to take on new names to ensure that Lord Jones never found them, but Mary did not mind that. Anything to get Charlotte away from him.

The pair stayed together, holding hands for what felt like forever. The shouting subsided at some point, but they still did not feel comfortable enough to let go of the reassurance they were trying to offer one another. It was not until everything fell into silence that Mary forced herself to tear away.

“I suppose we should both try to get some sleep now,” she said morosely. “Charlotte will not want to see me now until the morning.”

Jennifer nodded without speaking. She did not trust herself not to blurt out the truth. When things got really bad, people did not see Lady Jones for days. She remained in hiding until her bruises went away. Maybe the couple thought that was disguising what really went on, but everyone knew. There was just nothing that any of them could do about it.

“Goodnight,” she said quietly while bobbing into a curtsy.

“Yes, goodnight.”

Both of them knew they would not get any sleep, but they also did not want to get caught by a very enraged Lord Jones. His temper was usually only reserved for his wife, but the time might come when it was not. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

***

Charlotte stared at the fresh red mark at the top of her leg, wondering what her father would think of her now. He was so keen for her to marry Lord Jones; he continually told her what an amazing idea it was. Would he still feel the same way now after he had hurt her yet again? And this time it was because she was carrying his child. He justified it by suggesting it was because she did not tell him, but Charlotte knew by now there did not need to be an excuse.

Mary will know for sure by now, she thought sadly. She will feel sorry for me; she might even blame me. She might not want me to leave with her now because I am such a risk.

Mary was not like that really; deep down, Charlotte knew that she would want to help her more, but she was stuck in a pit of feeling pathetic and useless. She felt that at least some of the blame needed to lie with her. As the acute pain in her thigh slowly moved into a dull ache, Charlotte tried to force the guilt away with it. She felt so awful for the life she had started to lead.

Her beautiful dress was torn, her make-up smudged from where she had been crying, and her hair that had been styled so nicely before was now a big mess. Charlotte looked on the outside as she felt on the inside.

I cannot live like this forever, she thought with a small burst of determination. Not just for me, but for my baby.

She had only ever seen her parents being happy; she did not know how it would have affected her if they were not. She could only imagine that it would have destroyed her if they were like her and Lord Jones. It was not fair. She needed to do the right thing and get out now before her child could see it. Yes, it would also be wrong to raise a baby without a father, but some people were forced to do it, just as she had grown up with no mother. That was certainly the lesser of two evils.

Or so she hoped.





Chapter 21


Mary could not concentrate on anything that Charlotte was saying to her. She could see her sister’s lips moving, and she was very aware that there were words coming out of those lips, but her brain just could not hear them. It was as if there was something in her way, blocking her, preventing her from acting normally.

Something is wrong, she thought desperately as her gut twisted painfully. Something is very wrong.

She was not sure where the sudden burst of fear had come from or why she was so scared by it, but it was there, and it was very, very real. She glanced at Charlotte, trying to work out whether it had come from her or not. She knew that things were not good between her and her husband and that things had become even more strained since he finally discovered – in what sounded like a very unpleasant way – that she was having his baby, but that was not the source of her terror.

No, it is something outside of this house, she decided. Something is going on that is not in this house ... but what?

Then it struck her.

“Oh my goodness,” she gasped loudly, her shoulders hunching up around her ears, her hands wringing together rapidly. “Oh, no.”

“Wait, what?” Charlotte could not understand why Mary was acting so strangely. Merely a moment ago, they were having an extremely calm conversation about what flowers Charlotte would have preferred the gardener to plant when it was springtime, and now Mary was acting as if something terrible had happened. “Mary, what is going on?”

“Walter,” Mary panted. “Mr Thompson. I have not heard from him in a while. I wrote to him quite a while ago, and I have not heard a reply.”

“Right.” Charlotte nodded slowly. She examined Mary closely, trying to work out what had her in such a panicked state. One that really seemed to come from nowhere. “I see. Why are you so worried about this? Does it not always take a while?”

“I do not know.” Mary could not explain it, even to herself. She just did not know. “But I have a feeling that it is bad news. He is usually very prompt. I do not know why, but I feel that something has happened.”

“You think the house has not sold?” Charlotte furrowed her brow in confusion. “I am sure Mr Thompson will let you know as soon as there is something to know. Why are you so worried? Is it because ...”

Charlotte had the horrible feeling that her sister did not like it in her home. She did not like it there either, but there was nothing that she could do about that. Maybe she should have been preparing herself to lose Mary, eventually; she knew she could not remain indefinitely, but she had not. And now she was not ready to let her go.

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