Page 6 of Charity

“Damn it, Agatha,” Oscar hissed, frustrated all over again by his inability to continue a conversation with her. Just when he thought he had a chance to plead his case, she darted away.

“Here, miss. I’m here.”

The weak call turned him around until he stumbled over Agatha crouching low to the ground.

“Oscar. Nell is hurt. You have to help me.”

The young woman at Agatha’s feet groaned. Poor girl. He’d been too late to prevent her from coming to harm.

Agatha tugged on his trouser leg. “What are you waiting for? Help her up so that I may have her seen to.”

“No!” the maid squeaked.

Oscar took a step back. While he was more than happy to carry out Agatha’s request, as any gentleman should be, he understood better than Agatha why the maid might not wish him to place his hands on her. The scoundrel who had accosted the girl had been very free with exploring her body, despite her vigorous protests. She might see any assistance he tried to give as another threat against her.

Oscar gripped Agatha’s arm and dragged her a few steps away so he could speak freely. “She’s been handled in the worst way possible, Agatha. Be gentle with her. It would be my honor to help you, however I think she fears me.”

Agatha blinked up at him for a full minute as she assessed his words. Then her blue eyes widened with understanding. She flew to her servant’s side. “This is all my fault, Nell. I’m so sorry. So very sorry, indeed. I should have allowed George to accompany us.”

The maid’s tears started as soon as Agatha helped her stand and made a fuss of straightening her gown. “We do not look too bad. If asked about our mussed attire, we will say we were almost struck by a carriage and fell to the hard ground. However, instead of returning below stairs or to your chamber, Nell, you will come straight to mine. I will say I have need of you, so there shall be no prying eyes until you feel more yourself.”

Oscar grimaced. Agatha involved herself in matters best left to the servants far too much. She should hold herself aloof from their contretemps. But no matter how often Oscar had warned her that her efforts would be resented one day, she persisted in thinking them her friends.

Agatha lifted the maid’s chin to look in her eyes. “Nell?”

The maid sniffled. “Thank you, miss.”

Agatha slung her arm about the girl’s waist and moved off slowly without waiting for him.

Frustrated to be summarily ignored again, Oscar rushed to stand before them, his arms outstretched. “Agatha? My cane?”

Her huff of annoyance was loud. “Beside the tree.”

After a few turns about the tree base, Oscar spotted it and then hurried to catch up. But by then the women were at the edge of the park and, without a backward glance, they limped across the street.

He lurked in the shadows of the park as they ascended the front stairs of the building beside his and disappeared inside, leaning against the wrought-iron fencing as his heart squeezed. For all the annoyance Agatha brought to his life, he missed her dreadfully. Her sudden smiles, her infectious laugh, and the way her gaze had once fallen upon him with a steady acceptance, despite his flaws.

And he had many. Society might claim him to be the most charming man in the ton, but his inner thoughts were oftentimes less than graceful. Especially now, when society expected so much from him and gave nothing back to help him accept this loveless match in which he’d been bound.

He needed someone to confide in, yet he couldn’t bear to open his heart to anyone he considered a friend out of fear they’d look at him differently afterward. Not even Agatha could understand his pain. Not when the one who still held it looked upon him with such disdain.

Oscar tucked his hands under his arms and rocked on his heels. He desperately needed to speak with Agatha privately about a personal matter, but he dreaded hearing her responses.

Oscar pushed off the fence and headed for home, hopefully appearing as if he hadn’t a care in the world, should he pass anyone foolish enough to be abroad on this wretched night. He hurried up his front steps, pulled the key from his pocket, and let himself inside the quiet house. But he couldn’t hope to evade his butler.

“You have an urgent message, my lord.”

His butler held out his little tray. Mother? Already? What new scheme had she hatched in the last half hour? Oscar headed for his tiny bookroom, breaking the seal as he went.

He swiftly read the elegantly worded note. Another inescapable invitation to another tediously dull luncheon. And tomorrow no less. Why hadn’t she mentioned it tonight? A quick glance at his appointment book showed he had promised to take his future wife driving in Hyde Park at five, but he should have enough time to fit both outings into his schedule.

Oscar ran his finger over his engagements for the rest of the week. Penelope, Penelope, Penelope. How dull. He groaned and dropped his head to the open page. Life was not going the way he’d planned.

But there was nothing to be done now. Only make the best husband he could and forget about Agatha Birkenstock. Except that was proving more than difficult.

Of course, living in the house beside Agatha’s was certainly responsible for keeping her uppermost in his mind. That place should be occupied by Lady Penelope, a socially acceptable earl’s daughter.

Yet no matter how hard Oscar tried, he couldn’t dredge up the necessary enthusiasm for the chit. The dark-haired beauty didn’t affect him at all. Her conversation didn’t draw him into a greater understanding of her character. Her smile, when she chose to bestow one in his direction, lacked warmth. And unless matters changed and she stepped from her family’s shadow long enough to speak with him alone, he’d be just as oblivious on his wedding day.