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“I was.” He did not elaborate, so she did not press him. She nodded. “Sounds like something my father would have wanted if he had had sons.”
Lord Wentwell put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “We were separated of course. I was spared the true horrors of war. Edmund was not. When he came home, it was like he could not leave the war behind him. He startles sometimes and I think in his mind’s eye, he is back there. He has never been the same since. My mother can do nothing to calm him. He does not often recognize her during his spells.”
“I see,” Charity said. She reached out and put a gloved hand on his and when the Earl turned to her, his face was grave.
“There are times I think I have lost my brother completely. Most days he is quite his old self. Then other days, he is exceedingly violent and is a horror to be around.”
Charity felt chills move down her spine. She had not known. No one did as far as she was aware. What a horrible family secret, and now she was unwittingly part of it. She saw the concern in Lord Wentwell’s face. Whatever part of him was the roguish flirt was gone in the concern he had for his brother.
“I understand,” Charity said. “My father is not violent, but you know there are days when he does not recognize me. It is painful.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she felt his sincerity.
“Has your brother hurt anyone?”
His countenance darkened. “No, but of course that is always the fear. More often than not, he hurts himself.” He chanced a glance out the window as the carriage seemed to slow. “We are nearly there. I do apologize for getting you involved. I will leave you in the care of my mother if you do not object, while I calm my brother.”
Charity nodded. She realized that in spite of what she once thought, she and Wentwell were decidedly alike, at least fate had given them similar crosses to bear. “I am sure I will be quite comfortable with your mother,” she said.
Lord Wentwell allowed a smile to touch his lips. “I warn you, you are not like to be comfortable, Lady Charity. One day she is anxious for me to marry to secure the line and the next she is sure that no woman is worthy.”
“One must excuse the love of a mother,” Charity said with a wry smile as she thought of her own difficulties with her mother. She felt even more of a kinship to the man beside her.
The carriage stopped and Lord Wentwell hopped down offering her his hand to help her. Once they alighted from the carriage, he led her quickly inside and rushed across the grand entrance room to a parlor where an older woman sat in a plush chair with needlework on her lap. Charity stood by his side.
“Mother! Forgive the intrusion. You know the Lady Charity Abernathy, of course. Would you please see to it that she is entertained while I see to Edmund?”
The elder woman gaped at her son and Lady Charity, but finally nodded, waving absently for Charity to take a seat near her, but Charity hovered uncertainly near the doorway of the parlor, until the woman fair shouted at her.
“Sit girl” and Charity sat perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair. The woman then turned pleading eyes to her son.
“It is bad this time, Neville. Do be careful. I have called for the doctor as well, and Danvers tried to get some laudanum into him, but it only spilled on the floor.”
Lord Wentwell nodded as a loud crash rang out from some far corner of house. He gave the women a short bow and rushed from the room.
Charity sat in uncomfortable silence. She commented on the weather, but received little response. She ventured to ask questions about the large home, but was ignored. About this time, one of the servants entered with tea, but Lady Wentwell ignored it. Charity knew it was not her purview to pour. She felt terribly ill at ease. She then tried to venture a question about Lord Wentwell, at which point his mother put her needlework down and looked at Charity with piercing green eyes. Charity couldn’t help but notice they were the same extraordinary green as her son’s.
“I have no interest in getting to know you, young lady. I know your mother and that is enough, Although you have grand aspirations for my son, I will have none of it.”
“Grand aspirations,” Charity repeated. “I am an earl’s daughter.”
The woman looked at her askance, and Charity felt a blush coming to her cheeks. She did not know why. Charity sat back in her chair and stared at the older woman. Well, it looked like both she and Lord Wentwell where going to have to deal with their mothers.
“He has asked to call upon me,” Charity said loftily and I have given him my permission.”
“Your permission?” the lady said.
“Only after due consideration of course. He is a rogue and a shameless flirt.” finished Charity.
“But he is an earl and rich,” the Dowager countered..
“And I am an earl’s daughter and wealthy as well, such does not speak to one’s character.”
“How dare you come in here on the arm of my son and then insult him?”
“Inviting rumor seems to be your son’s pastime, not mine.”
“So you are free of rumor?” the dowager asked. “Except for the Lovell name,” she added.
