The Corinthians Series: Rules of Masquerade

Chapter Three

 Dedicated to the awesome Ashful. Babe, here's your pirate. Enjoy. 

Chapter Three

Charlotte’s lids were heavy and her temple throbbed mercilessly. Reaching up blindly her fingers came in contact with gauze which was secured on the spot, the source the dreadful sting. Dropping her hand to her sides Charlotte breathed in deeply. Even without opening her eyes, she knew that she was home.

The smell of lavender was in the air reeking from her bedspread and her pillow cases. Bathilda, the head maid of her household would drown any fabric she could get her hands on under lavender scented water. As far as she could remember that was how home smelled like: of Cookie’s delicious pumpkin tarts and of fresh lavender. Charlotte rolled on her stomach and moaned, grieving her disastrous attempt to escape her fate. She was captured by her brothers and dragged back home. Her freedom was short lived. Edwin must have hauled her on his wide shoulders and climbed the steps of their home before unceremoniously dumping her onto her bed. 

Strangely she could not picture her brothers at all and instead blurry images of a man filled her mind. She remembered looking into his impassive eyes and saw tension in the taunt pull of his lips. She was under a vague impression that he was displeased with her. But how can that be? She had not met William Hernshaw for years now. She could not possibly annoy a man she last saw three years ago, could she? But then again stranger things had happen. Her father and brothers could betray her and she could ended up engaged to an old shriveled up man fifty years her senior.

In between Charlotte's haunting moans Fanny had entered the room and settled herself on a perch at the edge of her bed. She was back in her standard attire: pale blue simplistic dress and her white apron. A white ribbon laced through her hair which was pulled into a bun.

“Master Kendall asks me to come up and help you undress Milady.” She said as she edged closer to the writhing bundle on the bed that was Charlotte. “It is unseemly for a lady to dress this way.”

When she finally dragged herself away from her bed, Charlotte stood still while Fanny unbuttoned the shirt she wore and strip down the trousers encasing her legs. The black scruffy Hessian boots came off and replaced by dainty silk slippers. “Master Kendall also warns that a doctor was to come and perform a physical check on you milady. You had a nasty tumble earlier.” Fanny’s chatter quickly tore away her woolgathering and Charlotte remembered something vitally important that she need to find out.

“Tell me Fanny, do you know if my brothers are entertaining a guest?”

“Why yes milady! There is a gentleman in the blue salon. He had been locked in with Lord Alistair and Lord Edwin along with Master Oliver and Master Kendall for past the hour.” Fanny prattled on as she carried on with the task of dressing her young mistress. Charlotte’s eyes were fixed upon her reflection by the mirror as realization sunk in.

He was here in her house. William Hernshaw was here in her house and talking to her brothers. The London season has not yet commenced and news were slow, that would have explained why his presence in town hasn’t yet been sensationalized. After all he was William Hernshaw, the man with two marquessates to his name: of Sheldrake and Downshire. William inherited the style of Marquess of Downshire from his Irish father who passed on when he was still studying in Eton alongside her brother Edwin. In recent years he reconciled with his once estranged grandfather and inherited the title of Lord Sheldrake, heir apparent to the Duke of Hartington, Lord Sheffield – who was conveniently, her fiancée. 

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut while a fresh stab of pain of frustration seeped into her skin and settled within her bloodstreams. If she was to marry Lord Sheffield then William was due to become her grandson two months from now. Fanny continued to dress her and the rustling of fabrics reminded Charlotte of a night tree years ago, to an estate in Northumberland where a masked ball was held and she was only a bright eyed seventeen year old…