Maid Under The Mistletoe (The Mapleton Family Saga #1) - Annabelle Anders Page 0,26

the position.”

Scotland? All sorts of emotions rushed through Charlotte. But before she could examine any of them, the viscountess continued.

“Aunt Constance won’t put up with your behavior. You’ll mind yourself with her or live to regret it.”

“But I don’t want to go to Scotland.” The words flew out unheeded. Surely, the woman wouldn’t expect her to leave everything she knew? “I––”

“I couldn’t care less what your inclinations are, young woman. Whether you go to Scotland or all the way to America, it’s little matter to me. But I’ve arranged for you to be gone first thing in the morning. As soon as this blasted storm moves out. Be thankful I’m not a cruel woman, lest you find yourself trekking off my husband’s property on foot, and without references.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Charlotte murmured, stunned at this dizzying change of her circumstances. Her circumstances were becoming all too real. Nothing Charlotte said or did right now could change the fact that she was utterly dependent upon this woman. A woman who would do anything necessary to protect her daughter, and rightly so.

If Lady Denton decided to send her packing tonight, Charlotte was doubtful she could survive.

Without her father’s protections, her life held little value to anyone. She’d run out of choices and it was no one’s fault but her own.

“You’re relieved of your position as of now. I’ll have a more experienced servant assist her in dressing for this evening.”

Charlotte’s heart sunk.

She could not return to her brother’s home and yet she had nowhere else to go. But… Scotland?

In that moment she blinked and nodded. “Yes, my lady.” She wanted to turn and flee ––find somewhere to hide and allow herself a long pitying cry.

But this was not her home. She resided here only so long as she fulfilled her duties to her employer’s expectations.

Which she apparently had not. “Will that be all?” She studied the floor, unwilling to meet Lady Denton’s gaze.

“Be prepared to depart at dawn.” The woman’s voice held no uncertainty.

Charlotte nodded again and then turned to leave.

“Unless you’re willing to be his whore.” The bitter words landed like a knife between her shoulders.

Charlotte wanted to lash out, but the viscountess was right! Unwilling to listen to anything more without striking back, Charlotte burst into a run, nearly sliding and falling on her face in the process.

She hated this place! She hated Lady Denton! And Susan! And… him!

Most of all she hated him!

Once in the dressing room that had been her only private space, breathless and distraught, Charlotte drew out her carpet bag and stuffed her meager belongings in without bothering to fold them. She had her scarf and coat. Her torn gloves and two dull muslin dresses. She’d not bring the horrid mob cap.

Her journal. The watch her father had worn every day.

And nothing else.

She had no money.

Nowhere to go.

The storm raging within her rivaled the blizzard outside. To depart on her own at night, in freezing and wet weather, would mean certain death. She glanced down at her pathetic belongings and sighed. She needed to cut all ties with Lady Denton and her daughter, the future Lady Mapleton.

She needed to be certain never to see him again.

Because the explosive, powerful emotions that somehow sparked between the two of them could not be put to the test again. Had they not been interrupted in the music room she could not be certain she would not have abandoned all sense. As it was, she’d practically thrown herself at him.

He’d removed some of the pins from her hair.

And then he’d offered her that horrid proposal! Which, if she were to be honest with herself, ought not to have come as a surprise.

But it had been in the heat of the moment.

He wasn’t the sort of man to marry one woman and keep a mistress on the side. Was he? Despite his suggestion, he was a man of honor. She didn’t know how, or why, but she knew this about him. He’d made the offer on impulse, spurred by the passion of their embrace.

And she was not a woman who could give herself to another woman’s husband. She’d been raised a vicar’s daughter, and her father’s teachings remained in her heart.

But Lord Mapleton’s offer had been tempting…

Anthony.

She shook her head, dismissing the memory of his need to hear her speak his name.

“Miss Drake?” The housekeeper’s voice called out. After spending hours polishing silverware while listening to the woman regale her with all the village gossip, Charlotte would know that woman’s