Page 86 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
All sorts of horrible thoughts raced through his mind as they made their way to her townhouse. With knots in his stomach, he jumped from the carriage before it even came to a complete stop and hastened up the steps. He burst into the entrance hall. Bridget stood there, wringing her hands. “Oh, thank goodness you are here, Mr. Baker. They are in the drawing room.”
They?
He walked into the room. Inspector Longworth, and another man whose name he did not know, both rose from the chairs they sat in across from Charlotte. She sat on the settee, white as new snow, her hands in her lap. He walked to where she was seated and settled next to her, taking her ice-cold hands in his warm ones. “Gentlemen. Please have a seat and tell me what is so important that you must detain my bride on her wedding day.”
“I’m sorry to tell you there will be no wedding today.” Longworth withdrew a paper from his pocket. “I have here a warrant for Mrs. Pennyworth’s arrest.”
“Her arrest? Surely there must be some mistake.” He turned to Charlotte. “Do you know what this is about?”
She raised her eyes to him, tears standing in the lids, her mouth working as she tried to form words. “Yes. I do.” Her answer was barely above a whisper.
Fear of what she would say gripped him. “What is it about, sweetheart?”
When her eyes swung to Inspector Longworth, he turned in his direction. “Longworth?”
The detective held the paper out to Elliot. “Mrs. Pennyworth is wanted in Melbourne Station to answer charges of jewel theft.”
Elliot reared back as if he’d been slapped. “Jewel theft?” Memories of Annabelle washed over him, almost bringing him to his knees. Would fate be so cruel as to once again repeat the agony of falling in love with a thief? He almost laughed at the irony of it.
He withdrew his hands from hers and walked to the window, staring out at the beautiful, sunny day that was supposed to be his wedding day. “Charlotte, would you care to explain? Or is there no other explanation than what that warrant says?”
The rustle of skirts caught his attention, and then Charlotte stood next to him. She drew herself up and looked him in the eye. “Yes, there is an explanation, but will you listen to it, and give it credence, or have you already made up your mind?”
She was twisting a handkerchief in her fingers, her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked scared to death. But he had been through this before. Women had a way of twisting a man until he believed just about anything they said. He had always guessed Charlotte was hiding something. This was one time in his life he did not relish being right.
He tried hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice but wasn’t sure if he succeeded. “Try me.”
“Very well.” She glanced over at the two inspectors and leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice. “Two years ago, I was employed as a companion to Lady Barton in Melbourne Station. She has a son, Lord Barton who became enamored of me.” She stopped and licked her lips.
“Go on.”
“He wanted me to…you know.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No, my dear, I don’t know. You must tell me exactly what happened.”
“All right. He wanted me to become his mistress. I refused. He planted a very expensive necklace in my room. One of the maids found it. He told me if I did not agree to warm his bed, he would have me arrested for theft.” She was breathless by the time she finished.
“That’s it? That’s the explanation?”
She frowned. “Yes. That is what happened.”
He rubbed his eyes. Women were always ready with an explanation that turned out to be false. Was he a fool again? What must Longforth think, since he was aware of his history with Annabelle? He must think Elliot the greatest ninnyhammer in all of London.
He regarded her as she stared at him with hope in her eyes. Just like Annabelle had when she’d given him her bogus story. “If that is the case, why did you not tell me before now? Haven’t I asked you if there was something you were hiding from me?”
“Don’t you understand, Elliot? You see everything in black and white.Once a criminal, always a criminal.You would not have believed me. I was afraid to tell you.”
“Perhaps I don’t believe you now, either.”
She sucked in a breath and raised her chin. “You don’t believe me?”
He studied her for a few moments. His heart was breaking. He had so many dreams wrapped up in Charlotte. He loved her. But he did not trust her. There could be no marriage without trust. He said what he knew he had to say. “No. I’m afraid I do not believe you.”
* * *
Charlotte gaspedand covered her mouth with her hands. “You don’t believe me? I thought you loved me?”
“Ah, yes. I love you, but do I know you? I think not.” He turned from the window and walked toward the drawing room door.
