A Fallen Woman by Kate Harper Page B

did not know how the roads would be.’
    ‘ Dreadful,’ Charity said, leaning forward to kiss the air next
to her mother-in-law’s cheek. James more than compensated by
enfolding Lady Sheridan in a warm embrace. ‘They were a
disgrace.’
    ‘ The roads?’ Lord Sheridan inquired mildly, coming forward to
shake his son’s hand. ‘What have they done now?’
    Charity
gave him a cool look. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘you are looking very
well.’
    Rachel
hid a grin. Charity made it sound like an accusation. No doubt she
was hoping that her father-in-law’s excellent health would have
begun to fail. Charity might try to disguise her eagerness, but she
longed for the day when she would be mistress of Thorncroft.
Everybody else had good reason to be delighted by Lord Sheridan’s
continuing robust constitution. She and James lived in Kent, in the
small, elegant manor house that had come to Margaret Sheridan upon
the death of her aunt. The place needed a steward and when James
had married Charity, his parents had offered the use of the estate
so that they could start their married life in their own
household.
    The offer
might have been refused, for Thorncroft was far grander, but the
general, unspoken consensus was that Charity would not enjoy being
powerless to order things to her liking and so James and Charity
started their married life at some distance from Northumberland.
Much as they would miss James, everybody at Thorncroft had given a
sigh of relief. Nobody had wished to be under the same roof as the
new addition.
    Charity’s
gaze had come to rest on Worsley and she pursed her lips, trying to
place him. She was unsuccessful – the earl had been absent for too
long, it seemed. Instead, Charity’s eyes moved on to Rachel and her
expression hardened imperceptibly.
    ‘ Rachel,’ her sister-in-law greeted her coolly.
    ‘Charity,’ Rachel returned politely. ‘How are
you?’
    ‘ Cold. I wished to stop at an inn for the night but your
brother was eager to arrive. I cannot imagine that one more night
would have mattered.’
    Rachel glanced
at her brother, full of admiration that he had withstood his wife’s
demands. James was a sweet natured fellow who usually succumbed to
Charity’s stronger will. He met her eyes and smiled.
    ‘I
thought it best to push on. I was eager to see you all. You’re
looking in top condition, my dear.’
    Charity
turned her glacial blue stare on her husband. ‘She is not a horse,
James. And your family would still have been here tomorrow so
taking our rest at a suitable establishment would hardly have
signified.’
    ‘Of course they would have been here b ut so are we now and it all
looks quite delightful.’ And he turned to greet his
father.
    Rachel met Charity’s chilly eyes and almost smiled at the chagrin in
them. ‘At least you have found a decent fire here,’ she said
quietly. ‘I daresay you will soon be warm.’
    Charity made a small moue of discontent and turned away
abruptly. Rachel sighed inwardly, wishing her brother had chosen a
nicer woman to marry. A kinder woman. Charity always assumed a proprietary air
when she was at Thorncroft, looking around at her surroundings with
a calculating gaze, as if mentally evaluating the worth of the
furniture and the size of the rooms. It was true that she would one
day be mistress of the place – James was the eldest son and it
would come to him after his father died – but all the family found
her air of possessive assurance to be singularly irritating. If she
felt the rest of the family’s dislike she clearly did not care, for
her attitude of superiority never dimmed.
    ‘One would think she was the daughter of a duke!’ Charlotte
had sniffed one day, after a particularly irksome exchange.
‘Instead of star ting life as plain Miss Fitzwilliam. Her father was only a
mister, after all.’
    ‘Ah, but her mother was a Talford and they are
practically royalty ,’ Rachel had countered. ‘Haven’t you been listening, these
past