An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 4.1.1. Another Secret

   Charlotte watched Benedic's shadow shrink back against the wall as hurried to the door to answer her uncle. Her intruder himself might not be in view, but she felt the dark threat of his presence as surely as if he were breathing down her neck. His menacing promise echoed in her memory. Would he harm her or her uncle? Best not to test his capacity for violence.

   Her uncle glanced up anxiously as she opened the door a crack. With any luck his intuition would warn him something was very wrong. He would sense her fear and quickly send for help.

   "Charlotte," he said without preamble, "I would not have disturbed you, but we have a problem on our hands that cannot wait until morning."

   She pressed her damp palm against the door, praying he would notice the panic in her eyes. She could only hope that the Strathmere "Ghost" had been sighted near the house. Perhaps her aunt would stage an evacuation for propriety's sake. Heaven knew the woman would fly into the boughs if she guessed the wicked wraith was hiding in her niece's bedroom. She almost smiled at the thought of Penelope taking on the surely ghost.

   Her uncle hesitated, his gray-haired head downbent. "May I come in?"

   The shadow on the wall wavered, ominous in its silence. Charlotte imagined that steel-muscled body imprisoning her again, squeezing the breath from her body like a bellows. Surely he had not always behaved in such a barbaric manner.

   "No." She shook her head, her voice catching. How tempting it was to blurt out the truth. How dangerous for them both. "I—I'm not decent, Uncle Humphrey."

   "Oh, my goodness," he said in embarassment. "Oh, dear. Well, it is bedtime, and I would not have intruded, but that was the magistrate banging like a blacksmith at the door. It seems a carriage was held up on Cooper's Bridge only an hour ago. This time the highwayman took only the lady's gloves and garters."

   For a moment Charlotte forgot her own horrifying situation, following his line of thought. "You don't believe it was Damon—"

   "Yes, I do." He began to pace the worn carpet in the hall, glancing down the darkened stairwell as he spoke. "He showed me a sketch, Charlotte, the very image of your wretched brother. It seems he's done it again, committed another crime while your bedeviled brother Greordo has barely cleared the smoke away from the first."

   Charlotte suppressed a sigh; she knew exactly when her eldest brother Geordo had moved from the league of devils into one of its victims. When he'd met his match in her lovely sister-in-law, Joan. Well, perhaps at a later time Charlotte would deal better with the anger and disappointment over Damon's behavior, if indeed this recent misdeed could be laid at his door. Perhaps she would understand what demons were driving him to irrational acts. But for now, wasn't it enough to have a rogue taking refuge in her room? Damon would just have to take care of this himself. Charlotte had her own personal dilemma to manage.

   "Does Aunt Penelope know?" she asked on impulse.

   "Good gracious, no," Humphrey replied. "I am afraid to tell her, but—" He stopped pacing, pivoted slowly, and attempted to peer over her shoulder. "I thought perhaps Damon might have come to you? You see, Charlotte, I am aware he visits from time to time. No, dear, don't look so distressed. I would never tell your aunt or the authorities. This shall be our secret."

   Another secret. Just what Charlotte needed to burden her conscience a little more, to complicate her life.

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