Secluded with the Rogue

Prologue

Prologue

JULY 1843

C harlene sat in the carriage next to her mother and just managed to keep from squirming.

Well, from squirming too much. Her mother always drilled into her that a lady didn't squirm. But she wasn't a lady. Not yet. She was only eight years old—almost nine. Eight and three quarters. It seemed silly to make a girl behave like a woman. But then she was undoubtedly biased, since she was the girl in question.

It was very hard to hold still because Charlene was going to see her most favorite person in the entire world—Andrew Wentworth. Sigh. Andrew, or Drew to her, was fifteen years old—a man, really—and was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Fortunately, she was able to see him quite often since her mother was best friends with his mother, Mrs. Wentworth.

Which was really a surprising thing, if she were honest. Her mother, Pamela Bellingham, Countess of Brookhaven, prized her title and everything that came with it, including socializing among the peerage. But of course, when they were at home in the country, there weren't very many other nobles running about for her to socialize with. And so, her mother had settled for the other richest family in the neighborhood—the Wentworths.

They pulled up in front of Glenn Ivy Manor, and the instant the carriage ceased its movement, Charlene tried to bolt from the carriage so she could track down Drew.

Her mother halted her with the simple and efficient application of her parasol as a gate across the open door. “You will wait for me to exit and then you may join me in saying hello to our hostess, Mrs. Wentworth. Then you may go off to play in a sedate and ladylike fashion.” Her mother narrowed her eyes at her. “Charlene, please heed my words, I mean it. I do not want you covered in mud for the ride home.”

Charlene looked down at her robin's egg blue dress. It was a pretty color. It was just too bad it had so very many ruffles and bows on it. She frowned. She certainly would not have any fun if she had to stay clean. This was why she'd tried to wear her old brown cotton gown with a pinafore that she could at least take off before she got it dirty.

Sad that all her fun had already been curtailed, she sighed. “Yes, Mother.”

“Very good.” Her mother nodded and lowered her parasol. She then rose enough to step through the open door and exited the carriage with the assistance of the footman who had been hovering nearby.

Charlene followed her out of the vehicle and came to a stop next to her mother. Mrs. Wentworth was there to greet them, but to her great disappointment she saw no sign of the very handsome Drew.

And she looked. Everywhere.

She peeked around the back of her mother, tried to lean to her right to see around Mrs. Wentworth, and even turned around and squatted down to look under their carriage.

This earned her a sharp reprimand from her mother about standing up straight. “Katherine, thank you for having Charlene and I over for tea.”

Her mother nudged her shoulder to prompt her and Charlene hastily said, “Yes, thank you Mrs. Wentworth.” She curtsied a little, but not too much since the woman was not a peer.

Her mother was always reminding her about whom to curtsy for and how deep to do so. It was all very confusing and rather annoying. Almost as annoying as Drew being absent. He was always hiding from her when she came to visit. Charlene scrunched her nose up. Why did he do that?

“Please, Lady Brookhaven, come inside.” Mrs. Wentworth turned and led them into the house.

Charlene sat there for what felt like hours as tea was served. The only redeeming part of the whole thing was the perfectly delicious scones and clotted cream. It was truly one of her favorite things. After eating two, she reached for a third. Her mother cleared her throat in a not-so-subtle reprimand that had her face warming.

She sighed and let her hand drop. She had hoped that her mother was so thoroughly engaged in the conversation as to not notice how many she'd had. Oh well. “Excuse me Mother, may I go outside now?”

Her mother looked over at her and paused. “Of course, my dear. Remember what I told you, not a speck of dirt on you.”

“Yes, Mother.” Charlene stood and curtsied to both women then trod sedately out of the room and closed the door.

Free, she tore off at a run to go in search of Drew. She just knew he would be up to something fun!

I t was almost twenty minutes after escaping the rigidity of the drawing room that Charlene finally found Drew, along with Frederick and William. Frederick was the son of the local magistrate who lived next door to the Wentworths, and John was a stableboy and the son of the stable master at Glenn Ivy Manor. They were on the edge of the great lawn behind the house when she spotted them.

As she skipped up to them, she called out, “Hello Drew, Frederick, William.”

A soft groan escaped Drew as Frederick stopped and turned around. “Hello Charlene.”

“Don't stop, you dolt!” Drew hissed from behind Freddie.

Inside Charlene winced, but a lady always maintained her pleasant outer countenance. At least, that was what her mother would say. Charlene wasn't exactly sure what a countenance was, but her mother was very clear about the smiling thing.

Wasn’t that what her mother meant? “Where are you three going?”

Drew sighed, walked back the few steps he'd taken, and stepped up beside Frederick. “Nowhere you can go.”

Oh . She gritted her teeth, still smiling. Charlene hated being told what she couldn't do. She got enough of that from her parents, and she certainly didn't need anyone else telling her she couldn't do something.

She fisted her little hands at her sides in her skirts. “I can go anywhere I want.”

Drew scoffed, his expression harsh. “Not dressed like that, you can't.”

“I can, too. I can do anything you three can do, and in a gown.” She jutted out her chin in pure defiance.

“You can’t even waltz better than me, or so our dancing master told your mother last time he was here.”

Her face scrunched up in fury. “That’s?—”

“You can't come with us.” He cut her off. “It's not safe for little girls. Right Freddie? Billy?” Drew insisted as he folded his arms across his chest. His friends stood mute neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him.

“I am not a little girl. I am a young lady, and I am telling you I can do it.” She hesitated a moment. “Whatever it is you are doing.”

“Absolutely not.” Drew pressed on, and then a little sparkle appeared in his blue eyes. “You're not welcome— Charlie .”

Fury punched through her chest at his use of that nickname she hated.

She was not a boy. She was a girl, and she liked girl things…it was just that she also liked to do boy things sometimes. Drew had called Charlie that one day and she'd instantly hated it. The only problem was, she had not been particularly good at hiding her displeasure, and once he had noticed, he'd started calling her that all the time, especially when he wanted to drive her away.

Charlene was tired of it. She balled up her little fist, just like she'd seen her two older brothers do before they went off to school, stepped forward, and swung. She punched Drew right in the gut, and he bent over double, completely winded. “I hate you, Andrew Wentworth!”

She whirled around and ran off as she heard the other boys giving Drew a hard time about being punched by a girl. Not that it mattered.

Running around to the side of the house, where a pretty gazebo was situated in a rose garden which smelled lovely, Charlene dropped down and cried as she mourned the loss of her first love.

In her own way, she had loved Drew. But now that she'd punched him, she also knew he would be even more determined to stay away from her—and if he didn't, she would make sure he did.

She didn't want him to apologize. She wanted him to leave her alone so her heart would stop hurting.

Charlene never wanted to see him again.