Page 36 of Miss Beresford and the Beast

She certainly could have, though she didn’t know what good it would have done. On the contrary, she had the distinct impression that this unusually tense meeting was akin to a powder keg. Any stray spark could set it off. Charlotte didn’t intend that spark to come from her.

“Lord Eversleigh?” the Constable queried.

“I found her in my garden, with her skull cracked open,” Magnus replied as blandly as if he was discussing the weather. “I sent my valet for the doctor to no avail.”

Mrs. Kitteridge snorted. “We’re to believe that, in his absence, you nursed this young lady yourself?”

“He did, ma’am,” Charlotte replied. “I owe my life to him.”

“Miss Beresford overstates the matter,” Magnus said. “I merely cleaned her wounds and made her comfortable.”

Mrs. Kitteridge’s flinty eyes swept over Charlotte’s loose hair and rumpled clothes. “Very comfortable, I see.”

Charlotte’s cheeks heated in spite of herself.

“My valet returned to the village twice more in search of help,” Magnus informed the constable. “There was none to be had.”

Constable Reeves paused in his note taking. “Your man is unknown here, my lord. And your family has been gone for over a decade. Can’t blame the folks in the village for being wary.”

“Miss Beresford’s relations would be justified in blaming them,” Magnus said. “The villagers cold-heartedness has harmed her far more than it’s hurt me.”

“You profess to be concerned for her reputation?” Mrs. Kitteridge retorted acidly. “Yet you allowed her to stay the night without a chaperone? And she an unwed young lady? It’s a disgrace!”

“Would you rather I’d left her to die out of doors?” Magnus returned.

The constable scratched his side-whisker. “A quandary, to be sure, with the doctor away in Upper Beadwell and none of the folks in the village willing to render aid.” He exhaled. “Can’t say I blame you for taking her in, my lord, but Mrs. Kitteridge is right. It’s a damaging action all the same.”

“One that won’t be made right,” Miss Kitteridge pronounced. “You mark my words.”

“It’s been made right, ma’am,” Charlotte told her. “I am much recovered, as you see.”

“Recovered? Ha! You’re ruined, my girl and no two ways about it. Still…” She shot a scathing look at Magnus. “It’s a far sight better than the alternative.”

Charlotte couldn’t comprehend her meaning. “Which is?”

“Having your good name redeemed,” Mrs. Kitteridge answered. “By him.”

Chapter Twelve

Magnus understood the old busybody’s words, even if Charlotte did not. And he didn’t disagree. Having to marry him would be worse than outright ruination.

But that didn’t matter now.

All that mattered was getting Charlotte safely back to her people, and getting these two interlopers out of his house.

“Miss Beresford’s in no condition to contemplate such things,” he said to the constable. “What she requires now is the same thing she required yesterday. A bloody doctor.”

Mrs. Kitteridge’s lips pinched with disapproval at his language. “We’ll take her back to the village. She can reside with me until the doctor returns.”

Magnus met the old tartar’s glare. She was as strong-minded in her opinions now as she’d been over a decade ago. Biased, bigoted, and intent on getting her own way. But if her will was iron, his was iron-forged steel. “She will remain with me,” he said, “until the doctor verifies that it’s safe for her to travel.”

Constable Reeves slowly closed his notebook. “You put us in a difficult position, my lord. We can’t leave Miss Beresford here unattended, as I’m sure you understand. And it may yet be sometime before the doctor returns from Upper Beadwell.”

“Could you not summon Miss Champion?” Charlotte asked. “I still can’t remember the name of the Champions’ house, but⁠—”

“You’ve lost your memory!” Mrs. Kitteridge’s jaw dropped in renewed horror. “What else can’t you remember? How you came to be here? What this monster has done to you? If he’s laid a finger⁠—”

“Mrs. Kitteridge, please,” the constable begged. “Will you let me do my job?”