to see Bay’s pale face, his eyes shut, his mouth a grim straight line. Good. If he had been enjoying himself, she might have had to brain him as well. Raising her arms, she dropped the pot down with all her might. Anne swayed for a harrowing moment, then toppled to her side, a deafening roar following.
The gun had discharged harmlessly into the sand. Charlotte picked it up and flung it underhanded into the encroaching waves.
“Nice to see you. Excellent aim. On both counts.” Despite his blinding smile, Bay’s rough voice betrayed his anxiety. He was scrambling up, pulling the striped banyan down over a rather flaccid cock.
“I’ll marry you,” Charlotte said, her eyes suddenly moist. “But I want a proper proposal. The last one was rubbish.”
“I’ll do better tomorrow.” He pulled a long length of rope from the trunk and efficiently trussed up Anne’s arms. Squelching the desire to roll her into the sea, he tied her securely to one of the tent poles. Someone else would have to deal with her. He was done.
And a good thing too. For his brave Charlie had fainted, pitching backward onto the rug with an alarming thud, just like the first day he met her. This time he knew she wasn’t faking. He scooped her up and carried her back over the rocks and grass, heedless of his bare feet, shouldering his way into the closest room, which was the empty conservatory. The moon and stars shone through the glass ceiling, bathing the room in ghostly light. He laid her out on one of the wooden worktables and gently patted her cheeks.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Your prince is here, and I will never, ever let you go.”
Chapter 23
Charlotte woke to the morning rhythms of Bayard Court, the rattle of a coal bucket, whispers and laughter on the stairs. The other side of the mattress showed no signs of disturbance. Bay had not ever come to the bed he’d tucked her into around midnight. He’d left her with a warm brick, a tot of brandy, and a kiss, off to the village to check on Frazier and see that Anne Whitley got more than a lump on her head. Gingerly, Charlotte touched her own goose egg. Her mama would have been disappointed that, once again, she’d failed to faint with grace.
She tried to rise, but quickly sank back onto the feather pillows. Dizzy and nauseous, and not just because of last night’s commotion. She felt weak as a kitten, although she was proud that she found the necessary strength last night to do the dirty work of dispatching Anne Whitley.
Lord, but her head hurt, but probably Anne’s was worse. Charlotte rolled carefully to reach the bellpull, then shut her eyes to ward away the dancing spots. She’d drunk altogether too much wine last night. Feeling her stomach lurch, she willed herself to lie still and wait.
It didn’t take Irene long to tap on the door and enter. Charlotte was relieved to see the maid brought two pitchers of water, one for drinking and one for washing up. Irene hadn’t said a word, but knew that Charlotte had been too sick first thing in the morning to swallow anything but Adam’s ale.
“Good morning, Miss Fallon! Such excitement last night! You’re a proper heroine, you are.” The girl poured Charlotte a tall glass of water and brought it to her bedside. “My, but you’re looking peaky. A bit green. Do you want a basin?”
“Not yet. Did you bring any crackers?”
Irene reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a linen napkin. “Here you are. Sir Michael says you’re not to worry yourself about getting up. I’m to bring breakfast to you when you want it.”
Charlotte took a deep swallow. “Where is he?”
“He’s downstairs with Mr. and Mrs. Buckland. Lady Whitley’s parents, you know.”
Charlotte shuddered. “And where is
“Dr. Dixfield’s house in the village. You’re not to worry about her either. He’s got her under lock and key. Drugged her, too,” Irene said, her eyes lighting with satisfaction. “After what she did to poor Angus, he’s not letting her out of his sight.”
“Mr. Frazier will be all right, won’t he?”
“Oh, aye. He’s back home already, and Kitty is spinning in circles waiting on him hand and foot. The doctor said it was just a flesh wound. On his arm. Angus said it would take more than one crazy woman to kill him when the Frogs couldn’t. Everything will be all right, Miss Fallon, you’ll see.”
“I hope so.” She bit into a soda cracker and took another sip of water. Charlotte didn’t think Bay would want any of last night to become public knowledge. But the Toothaker sisters were witnesses to Anne’s desperation-how quiet could they keep? “Sir Michael hasn’t slept at all, has he?”
Irene shook her head. “I don’t believe so. He was busy with you, then getting the stable lads to watch over Lady Whitley while he went into the village to see about Angus and get word to the Bucklands. And then he came back and took that woman away. The boys are to take turns guarding the doctor’s house today. They said Lady Whitley screamed like a banshee all night long. Scared them silly, she did, cursing and whatnot. They’ll have something to talk about in the pub for years to come.” Irene opened the drapes and threw open the casement window. A fresh sea breeze wafted in. It looked to be another beautiful summer day.
And now the stable boys were involved, and hardly the strapping guards as would be needed to protect the world from Anne Whitley. Poor Bay. What a scandal it would be. Even if no one ever found out exactly how Anne spent her last unfettered minutes, the gossip would be relentless. Charlotte knew only too well its power. How could she and Bay marry and find peace at Bayard Court when they lived only a few miles from the Bucklands?
Charlotte made a second unwise attempt to get out of bed and was grateful when Irene caught her before she tumbled to the floor.
“Now, you stay put. Let me wash you up and do your hair, Miss Fallon. According to my mam, you’ll feel better in a month or two.” Irene blushed, lowering her eyes. “I hope I haven’t got ahead of myself, but I did notice.”
Charlotte blushed right back. “You haven’t said anything to Sir Michael, have you? I-I’m not sure yet, you know.”
Irene dipped a sponge into the warm water and proceeded to scrub Charlotte’s hot face. “’Course not. Nor to Mrs. Kelly either, but I think she knows. She always knows everything.”
Charlotte was quiet as Irene brushed and braided her hair, remembering Bay’s attentions yesterday after their swim. She really should wash the sea salt from her hair. Her body itched a bit, too. “I think I’d better have a bath this morning, Irene, if it’s not too much trouble for you girls. Don’t take Kitty away from Mr. Frazier, though. Goodness, the Toothaker sisters must be done in. Frightened, too.”
“Oh, we’ll be glad of our beds later. But you don’t know! In the shock of the shooting and all, Angus proposed to Kitty, so she’s more than happy. And Sir Michael has given everyone the day off tomorrow, and cash bonuses besides.”
Charlotte smiled, imagining tough Angus Frazier pouring his heart out. She hoped he did a better job of it than his master. “Please tell Sir Michael to come up here when he can, Irene. And don’t bother with my breakfast for a while yet. Just the bathwater.”
“Yes, miss. Right away.”
Charlotte waited until Irene disappeared before she spewed her water and cracker crumbs into the chamber pot. If she had to endure two more months of this, it would be hard going. But worth every unpleasantness. She rested a hand on her belly, imagining the tiny child within, a child that was actually going to have a father once Bay got his proposal right.
Summoning up her energy, she limped to the window to toss the contents out onto the bush below, then leaned out to swallow up the day. That poor bush wouldn’t thank her for the regular morning insult. Friendly puffy white clouds shadowed the sea’s dazzling surface as they blew across the sky. The wind caught the tail end of Charlotte’s braid. It was a perfect day for a sail, if she dared trust her stomach. But Bay would probably spend the day in bed in well-deserved rest once he had tidied up the business of Anne Whitley.
What would become of her? Charlotte decided she could not feel sorry for the woman, despite things Bay had told her as he quickly wrapped her in the coverlet last night. No matter what the viscountess had suffered at the hands of Viscount Whitley, she had gone beyond the pale. Kidnapping, attempted murder, virtual rape, if a woman could actually rape a man. Charlotte had not thought it possible until she had seen it with her own eyes. Thankfully
