Clarice’s oldest things.
As she glanced at the bed, she saw a letter lying on a pillow. It was addressed to her. Tearing it open, her worst fears were soon confirmed.
Clarice had run away.
Tell Papa not to try to find me. I shall never come back and he may as well sell the house because I do not wish to marry that awful man.
‘Oh, Clarice,’ Lottie sighed. ‘What have you done now?’
As a child Clarice had always been selfish and thoughtless, and, because most people could not tell them apart, she had formed a habit of making people think it was Lottie who had broken their vase or knocked over her milk or put a stone through a window.
Glancing at the letter again, Lottie saw the postscript.
Why not do as we discussed and marry him yourself, Lottie? He will never know the difference. He doesn’t care two hoots for me, so what harm can it do?
Lottie took the letter and went back downstairs. She met her father as he emerged from his study. He was looking tired and worried and her heart caught with pain.
‘Father—is something the matter?’
‘Your sister has informed me once again that she will not marry the marquis and I’m damned if I know what to do. I suppose I shall have no choice but to sell the house.’
‘Perhaps not…’
‘What do you mean? Has she changed her mind?’
‘You had better read this, Papa.’ Lottie handed him her twin’s letter. ‘I have no idea where she has gone, but she has taken most of her things—including the silver that belonged to Mama.’
Sir Charles read it through and cursed. ‘She is a thoughtless minx. Well, that settles it. I must sell—and if the marquis sues for breach of promise, I shall probably end up in the Fleet.’
‘Papa! He wouldn’t sue?’
‘He might,’ Sir Charles said. ‘Rothsay will not take this well.’
‘Supposing I did what Clarice suggested?’
He stared at her. ‘Take her place, you mean?’
‘Yes. She says the marquis doesn’t love her.’
‘They only met twice to my knowledge.’ Lottie’s father looked at her with dawning relief in his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t do it—would you?’
‘Yes, I shall,’ Lottie blurted unthinkingly, desperate not to see her father suffer any more distress. She almost denied it instantly, but the look of relief in her father’s eyes prevented her from turning back. ‘Clarice told me that all Rothsay wants from his wife is an heir—and that it was always to be more of a marriage of convenience.’
‘Yes, he was clear that was all he wanted.’ Sir Charles seemed to have shed ten years in an instant. ‘If you could bear it, Lottie—it would be an end to my problems.’
‘Yes, of course I can.’ Lottie forced a smile. ‘Most girls marry for money or position, so why shouldn’t I?’
What else could she do in the circumstances? If she did not take her sister’s place, Aunt Beth would be left homeless, her father might end in a debtor’s prison; though he had given the family nothing but trouble over the years, Lottie remained devoted to her father. No, she couldn’t bear for her family to suffer if there was something she could do to prevent it.
Chapter Two
‘Are you certain you wish to go through with this, Lottie?’ Her father reached for her hand, which was trembling slightly as the carriage horses began to slow to a steady walk. In another few minutes they would arrive at the marquis’s country house and it would be too late to run back. ‘I can tell him you are unwilling and ask him to give me time to pay.’
‘How can you pay, Papa?’ Lottie turned her lovely green eyes on him with a hint of reproach. ‘I have thought long and hard about my decision. Clarice will not marry him. She’s run away and we’ve none of us any idea where she is; besides, Aunt Beth is terrified of losing her home with you. How could she live on fifty pounds a year? I should have to find work to help support us both.’
‘I am ashamed to have brought you to this,’ Sir Charles said. ‘I know well that your sister is selfish,’ he added and looked rueful. ‘She takes after me, while you have your mother’s giving nature. I would not have minded that devil being married to Clarice, for I know she would have given as good as she got—but you may be hurt, Lottie.’
‘I am stronger than you imagine, and, as I’ve said, there is no choice.’ Lottie smiled at him. ‘Now, Papa, you must be careful when calling me Lottie.’
‘Rothsay knows nothing of you. He will merely think it a pet name, which of course it is, Charlotte.’
‘Well, we must be careful all the same.’ Lottie took his hand. ‘As I told you, Papa—I shall see if his lordship will release us from the debt without marriage, but if he will not I shall become his wife. It is perhaps my only chance of marriage and I know I should like to have children, so it will not be so very hard for me.’
‘Will it not, truly?’
Lottie dropped her eyes. She did not wish her father to know that it was the end of her naïve dreams of finding love and happiness. Clarice had told her the marquis was a terrible rake. Clearly, she could not expect to find happiness with her husband, but at least her aunt would have a home—and she might find content in her children.
‘No, Father. I believe I shall be quite content—unless the marquis is good enough to relent.’
‘I do not think he is likely to change his mind,’ her father said and sighed. ‘I fear you will just have to make up your mind to marry him.’
Lottie did not reply. The carriage had just now drawn to a halt before a grand and imposing house built at some time in the last century, and her heart was beating so fast that she could not have spoken if her life depended on it.
‘The gentleman and young lady have arrived, sir.’ Nicolas turned his head as his butler spoke. ‘I have shown them into the green drawing room, as you requested. Shall I ask Mrs Mann to take in some refreshment?’
‘Yes, you may bring it in ten minutes,’ Nicolas said. ‘I shall greet my guests.’
He was unsmiling as he walked briskly towards the green drawing room at the back of the house. He had waited for some protest, some inkling that the lady wished to withdraw, but none had been forthcoming. He could only hope that the young woman might give him some reason to request an end to this impossible arrangement.
‘Yes, Father, it is very beautiful,’ he heard the young woman’s clear voice as he stood outside the door. ‘I was just thinking how much Aunt Beth would love to live here. I wonder—’
The young woman broke off, turning to look at him with wide eyes as he entered, a faint flush in her cheeks. She was wearing a bonnet of chip straw tied with emerald ribbons, her carriage gown skilfully fashioned of velvet of a similar hue, and he was surprised. In Paris she had worn a gown that was, to say the least, bold, but this morning she looked a modest and very respectable young lady.
How dared she present herself as a demure country miss? Did she imagine he had such a short memory? His lips curled in scorn as his gaze swept over her. He thought the colour in her cheeks deepened. Was she remembering the night in Paris when he had caught her going through Ralph’s pockets?
‘Miss Stanton,’ he said and took two strides towards her, inclining his head. ‘Welcome to Rothsay Park. Sir Charles, how do you do, sir?’
‘Middling.’ Sir Charles looked hesitantly at his daughter. ‘I understand you plan to give a ball to announce your engagement to…my daughter?’
‘You would have preferred to give it yourself?’