She didn’t want Charles to see how much he could affect her. But she needn’t have worried, for he made no attempt to come after her. She supposed he didn’t care enough. In her bedchamber, she took out a handkerchief and blew her nose.
Thank God Marian was in London. Nellie needed her calm, wise sister. Snatching up her reticule and bonnet, she flew down the stairs. Grove raised his eyebrows but said nothing when she called for her pelisse. He assisted her into it and opened the door for her to exit the house. She half ran to the corner in search of a hackney.
Farther down the square, she found a carriage had just deposited a neighbor onto the footpath. Nellie gave him Marian’s address and climbed inside. Her shoulders heaving, she dragged a handkerchief out of her reticule and dried her tears, then made a hasty effort to tidy herself.
“Nellie. What on earth has happened? Come upstairs.” Marian ordered a footman to bring wine and took Nellie to her sitting room, where she made her sit on the sofa.
“I’ve just come from Charles,” Nellie gasped, dabbing her eyes.
Nellie accepted a glass of Madeira, which was quickly brought. She drank down half a glass. The wine calmed her a little as she described Drusilla’s note.
“That conniving woman!” Marian exclaimed. “She wishes to cause trouble. Are you going to let her?”
“I can’t help it, Marian.” Nellie hiccoughed. She’d drunk the wine too fast. “Am I supposed to ignore it?”
“No, but Charles could be innocent. Powerful, attractive men like him are besieged by women.”
“I know that.” Nellie waved her hand as if to dismiss Charles’s obvious attractions and drank more of the Madeira. “I told him how his French mistress accosted me in Bond Street.” She finished the glass and coughed.
Marian removed the decanter and returned it to the tray on the bureau. She pulled the bell cord. “We need coffee.”
She came back to sit on the sofa beside Nellie and took her hand. “What had Charles to say in his defense?”
“He denies the child is his. He was furious, Marian. I’ve never expected him to be like that, although there was that article, you know, the one about him attacking the reporter. He has always been so composed. Except when…” Nellie blew out a breath. “Well, he is a very good lover. I suppose that’s why these women keep after him.” She rubbed her eyes. “I refuse to share him! I would rather not have him in my life.”
“Oh, dearest. How very upsetting.” Marian put her arm around her.
“You should have seen it! Charles swept everything off his desk. Papers and pens scattered over the floor, everywhere. Ink spilled on the carpet. And he made no attempt to clean it up!”
“Mm. Not like Charles, is it?”
“Of course, he flatly denied meeting Drusilla with the intention of pursuing an affair. He said she asked to see him on some urgent matter, but he left soon afterward.” She put her hands to her head, which was fuzzy. “I saw him leave the ballroom, casual as you please. And then return sometime later. Drusilla came directly after him. Brazen woman didn’t even attempt to hide it.”
“How long were they away?”
“I don’t know, I was dancing with Walsh. It couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes.”
“Hardly long enough for a tête-à-tête. Perhaps he is telling the truth.”
Nellie shrugged. “But time enough to arrange one.” She sighed. “I knew this would happen. Drusilla was his first choice. He didn’t want to marry me, Marian. He has never told me he loves me. I suppose he never will.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “Trouble is, I admired him. I liked him, Marian.”
Marian sighed. “Dearest. You love him.”
Nellie shook her head. “No, I don’t. I can’t. He has a horrible temper. Who would have believed it?” Nellie nodded sagely. “Well, I witnessed it today.”
“Did he frighten you?”
“His anger wasn’t directed at me. I know Charles would never hurt a woman. That he would attack a helpless journalist is inexplicable.”
“What did Papa say about that?”
“He didn’t believe it. Said there was another side to the story.”
“Well, maybe there was. Don’t give up on him, dearest. Married couples have these quarrels. Making up is half the fun.”
Nellie scowled. “Two, and possibly three women in as many weeks? It is intolerable.”
The footman entered with the tray. Marian gestured to the small table. “Put it down, William, and leave us.”
“This will help.” She filled Nellie’s cup with the hot brew from the coffee pot. “You must think about what next to do.”
“I’ve already decided.” Nellie straightened her shoulders. “I shall become very busy. I’ll set up my literary salon and invite Walsh to participate.”
“The salon is an excellent idea, but I’m not sure about the Irishman.” Marian eyed her anxiously. “Charles might not like it.”
“Well, of course, he won’t, stupid!” Nellie said with an affectionate smile.
Marian nodded in approval. “I knew you wouldn’t stay down in the doldrums for long.”
*
Charles was left with the image of Nellie, her chest rising and falling with rapid, harsh breaths. With intense disgust, he studied the mess on his study floor his temper had created and cursed. He’d acted like a bad-tempered oaf. And he prided himself on being a rational man not given to acts of violence.
He might have been a young fool at university and behaved in a manner he’d rather forget when he’d beaten up a bully who was all mouth and little muscle, while the men cheered him on. And again when he’d given Fairbrother’s son a good shake.
