Page 39 of A Perilous Passion

“Just between you and me, I think he may be a gentleman fallen on hard times. Otherwise, he’d have bought the draught horses he needs to work the farm proper. He has chickens and pigs and a few sheep, though, enough to keep him in eggs, and ewe’s milk cheese, and bacon.”

“Well, I mustn’t keep you from your rounds. Good day to you, Mr. Harris.”

Thrilled that she now had Rafe’s direction, she needed to seek him out as soon as possible.

Her stomach reminded her of her lack of breakfast. It might be an idea to take luncheon at home first, and then set out.

Her mother, however, was not about to cooperate. When she returned home and expressed a wish to go out again after lunch, Mama’s reply was, “Certainly not. You’ve walked all over the village for hours. I’ve a mind to keep you at home. I need you to help put that trellis back up for the honeysuckle. It needs new struts. Adam’s fingers are too arthritic to hold the nails.”

“But he’s much improved since I’ve been treating him with the doctor’s miracle ointment,” ventured Flora.

Mama rolled her eyes. “I heard that mountebank was back. You should keep away from him; he’s no better than a gypsy.”

“That’s unfair, Mama. His cures have worked very well.”

“Don’t answer me back. I thought you’d learned your lesson from that shameful episode with Mr. Jessop. But there’s a rebellious streak in you still.”

“I didn’t think wanting to go out again counted as rebellion. But if you need me, I’ll stay.”

Mama gave her a suspicious look. “If you’re up to something, abandon it, or it’ll turn out for the worse. Remember when you and your Essex friends stole out one night and fell into the horse trough?”

“Mama, I was nine!”

“Or when you climbed the tree to fetch Will Hopkirk’s kite and tore your stockings.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Ten! Eleven at most.”

“Or when you thought Jane Gudge was copying your gown and went out after dark to watch her sewing through the window.”

She made a face. “I’ll admit, I was a little older then. But taking a walk hardly counts as wild behavior. I’m not spraying my gown with water so it clings to my figure, nor creating a risqué tableau for the amusement of my friends, nor…nor…taking snuff!”

Her mother looked instantly horrified. “I should think not. But I promise you, the key will be turned in the lock tonight. In case you have any thought of a tryst with Lord Beckport. No, don’t look so shocked. I know you better than you think, my girl.”

Charlotte sincerely hoped not.

“The very idea.” She turned away with a huff and straightened a print on the wall to hide the heat in her cheeks. If it hadn’t been for last night, she could have brazened it out with a blunt denial. She could have pretended innocence.

But after Rafe’s caresses, nothing would ever be the same.

“Lucinda, dear,” broke in Aunt Flora, “we promised never to mention the Earl of Beckport. He said his life depended on it. He won’t want anything more to do with this family, anyway. Not after the tongue-lashing you gave him.”

Charlotte met her aunt’s eye and could have sworn she winked.

Hope resurfaced.

“Very well, Mama. I submit to being your prisoner, though I assure you it’s not necessary. But perhaps, as we had a long day yesterday, we could dine and retire early tonight?”

This was readily agreed to, and Charlotte hid her triumph. With or without the connivance of Aunt Flora, she would make her escape later this evening and hasten to Dovehouse Farm to find out what had become of Rafe.

It was risky, she knew, and she’d have to keep her wits about her. But not knowing if he was alive or dead was agony.

Chapter Seventeen

Charlotte retired early, and Aunt Flora was detailed to escort her up to bed. Flora handed her the key and whispered that she should lock her bedchamber door from the inside, lest Mama try it when she came up.

“Be careful, and please don’t stay out too long.”

Since when had Flora become a fellow conspirator? She’d always been too much under the command of her older sister to rebel, yet here she was, doing exactly that. Would she be abetting her, Charlotte wondered, if Flora knew what she was planning?