Regency Mistresses: A Practical Mistress / The Wanton Bride. Mary Brendan
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me now. Why would he when I have such a hateful brother?’ she gritted out through small pearly teeth. Charlotte again hid her freshly streaming eyes with her fingers.
Helen sank forward on to her knees as an inkling of what might be ailing her sister put a guilty sigh in her throat. So obsessed had she been with dwelling on her fraught encounter with Jason Hunter and Mr Drover that she had neglected to give any more thought to a worrying incident that had occurred before either of those gentleman had arrived.
Helen cast back her mind a few hours. Charlotte had been from the room, collecting her coat, when George had cruelly curtailed Philip’s attempt to make formal his suit. No doubt Philip had felt injured enough by George’s churlish rejection to tell Charlotte of it.
Helen remembered, too, with heavy heart, that George had not been content to leave it at that. Once their sister had quit the house with the Goodes, George had more doom to deliver on the subject of the courting couple. Or rather, he had anticipated that she would do his dirty work for him. His curt dictate echoed in her mind: I do not want Charlotte seeing him any more. Make that clear to her or I will make it clear to him. And, as you have just noticed, I shall not stand on ceremony when I do so.
‘Was Philip annoyed that George was short with him? He had every right to be …’
‘What did he say to Philip?’ Charlotte interrupted, scrubbing the heel of a hand across her eyes. ‘Tell me, please! I sensed something unpleasant had occurred while I was getting ready to go out. Philip is too agreeable to make a fuss, but I guessed something was wrong, even before George came over and was horrible to us in the park.’
‘You saw George whilst you were out?’
Charlotte nodded. ‘I’m sure George only turned up in Hyde Park because he guessed we had gone there. Why does he hate Philip? He has never taken the trouble to get to know him.’
Helen tightened her grip on Charlotte’s shivery hands. ‘I’m sure he does not hate him,’ she soothed. ‘It is just that our brother is …’ She struggled to find words that might mitigate George’s boorishness. ‘I know our brother has an unfortunate manner at times,’ she lamely concluded.
‘Unfortunate manner?’ Charlotte shrieked and stamped a foot to emphasise her outrage. ‘He is a swine! He deliberately humiliated Philip in front of his sister and me! The park was quite crowded too and a lot of people witnessed what went on. A horrible fellow started laughing at us.’ Charlotte’s voice wobbled as she recounted, ‘Poor Anne was so upset she started to cry, although she pretended she just had a speck in her eye.’
Helen’s wide eyes revealed her astonishment at what she’d heard. Usually George sought to keep his shameful behaviour out of public display. ‘What exactly did he do?’ she demanded to know.
‘We had stopped by the lake to watch the swans and George just appeared with one of his cronies. George got out of his carriage and stormed over to us. With no more ado he ordered me home. Philip was startled by his rudeness, but took it in good part, I thought. I’m sure he knew George was slighting him because he doesn’t deem him good enough for me.’ She paused to wipe a hand across her feverishly flushed cheeks. ‘Philip offered to immediately bring me back, but George stared at him as though he was dirt beneath his shoe. He snapped out that he would directly take me safely home himself.’ Charlotte pulled a scrap of linen from a pocket. She furiously applied it to her glistening dark eyes. ‘Philip was … he looked so mortified when George made me get out of the gig. That’s when I heard his friend laughing.’ She gurgled a sob, then wiped her dewy nose. ‘I tried to reassure Philip that I was disgusted too by George’s behaviour. I said I would be pleased to see him again later in the week. But he avoided my eye and said, in a strange voice, that he didn’t think that would be possible.’ Charlotte blinked away fresh tears. ‘He doesn’t want to see me again. It is finished between us, I know it is.’
Helen shot to her feet. ‘George brought you home? Where is he?’ she demanded and flew to the window to peer out into the street.
‘He is gone. The whole way home he wouldn’t speak to me, even when I shouted at him that he was overbearing. When we turned into the Square he cast on me one of his black looks.’ Charlotte pursed her lips mutinously. ‘He said he would never give his consent to a man of Goode’s standing and I might as well get used to it. That’s when I told him he was the vilest man alive and I would marry whomever I chose and he might as well get used to it. After that it was as much as he could do to help me down from the carriage. He was so rough with me I feared he might pull my arm from its socket. Before Betty had let me in he’d set off up the street.’
Helen observed Charlotte’s distress and her heart went out to her. It was difficult to comprehend why any decent person would deliberately make a spectacle of a gentleman as inoffensive as Philip Goode. But then George, she reluctantly admitted to herself, had not acted very decently in a long while. Despite knowing it, she still felt lurking within her a sibling’s sadness. A corrosive resentment of the contented, and a grasping wife, were destroying the personable brother who once had taught her how to ride her first pony and fish the streams in the Surrey countryside.
Helen retraced her steps to the sofa and sat down close to Charlotte. ‘From what you have said it seems George has made himself, rather than Philip, appear ridiculous. It is George who needs our pity,’ she added gravely. ‘Perhaps if he had made a successful marriage he might not be so sour at life.’ She enclosed her sister in a hug and planted a kiss on her luxuriant, auburn tangles. ‘We are the lucky ones, Charlotte. You and I both have known what bliss there is in being cherished by someone we love. Poor George! I think at times he knows what he misses and is bitterly jealous.’
Charlotte rested her head on Helen’s slender shoulder. ‘I wish Papa was here. He would have liked Philip. He would have given us his blessing … just as he did to you and Harry.’
‘Yes, he would. Philip is very like Harry. I expect that is why I took to him from the start.’ With a wistful smile she looked down at her young sister. ‘But our papa is not here. Neither is dearest Harry.’ She put Charlotte from her and said briskly, ‘So we must look after ourselves and not let our brother scare the fight out of us.’
‘I do love Philip, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know. And that is why, somehow or other, you must marry him,’ Helen answered softly. She looked off into the distance with a slight frown drawing close her ebony brows. ‘I expect Philip wants very much to see you again, but fears sparking another ugly scene with George. And who could blame him for that?’ She gave Charlotte an encouraging smile. ‘The best thing will be for me to go alone and pay the Goodes a visit. I shall let them know that they are most welcome to call on us at any time. If George gets temperamental over it … well, he shall have me to contend with.’
‘Beg pardon, Mrs Marlowe, but he is back again.’
Helen peered over her sister’s tousled head at Betty. Her maidservant was, once more that day, stationed in the doorway with an apologetic look on her face. Helen sensed her heart falter and then a burst of terrified exhilaration made her feel quite lightheaded. In a breathy rush she demanded, ‘Who is it, Betty?’
‘Oh, not the gentleman, ma’am,’ Betty said with distinct disappointment. ‘It’s Mr Drover. He won’t say what he wants, so I’ve left him on the step this time.’
Within a moment Helen was briskly walking to the front door. ‘My brother is still not here, Mr Drover,’ she announced without preamble. ‘And I am not expecting him to arrive any time soon. I’m very sorry, but I cannot help you.’
‘I’ve not come about him.’ The grocer shifted on the stone step, fingering the brim of the hat that he was banging in rhythm against his knees. ‘I’m sorry for acting hot-headed earlier … end of tether, you understand.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The other gentleman settled my account.’ His tone was level, but a sly glance slanted up at her before he again meekly studied his shoes. ‘I’ve fetched over that order you sent with my boy earlier in the week.’
‘Sir