Scandalous Liaisons (29 page)

“Only when you’re not rescuing the entire population of Derbyshire misfits,” he said dryly.

“’Ere now!” Artemis complained, stepping out of the study. “We don’t take kindly to that nonsense ’round ’ere!”

Hugh attempted to step away from Charlotte, but she held fast, and after a second he relaxed. Another second more, and he discovered he rather liked holding a female in a nonamorous position. It was soothing.

Looking over the pile of red curls, he locked his eyes with Artemis’s one, which had the gall to wink.

Hugh chuckled, realizing he just might like the butler a little after all.

“It hasn’t snowed in the last two days,” Charlotte said sadly, as she looked out the window. She’d come to love the sight of snow, since the fall of it meant Hugh would stay another day.

Glancing up from the journal, the object of her affection gifted her with a boyish smile. The effect of that smile was so powerful, her breath caught and her hand lifted to shelter her rapidly beating heart.

Hugh ran a careless hand through his golden hair. “I noticed that this morning.”

He was so achingly beautiful, she could hardly bear it. Thankfully he remained unaware of how he affected her. “If your carriage is repaired in time, perhaps it will be possible to set off tomorrow.”

“My thoughts were similar.” He closed the book and gestured for her to come closer.

The earl had been in residence for a fortnight, and so far his interest in her showed no signs of waning. He slept in her bed every night and spent every waking moment with her, maintaining his easy charm without any sign of boredom. If she moved to leave the room, he followed. If she wanted to take a nap, he went with her. For the first time in her life, the loneliness that was her constant companion was gone, replaced by the steadfast presence of the dashing Earl of Montrose.

“You seem nervous,” he noted.

“And this surprises you? I haven’t left the area in a very long time. My clothes are sadly out of date, and my social deportment is rusty.”

Hugh chuckled, and when she came close enough, he tugged her into his lap. “No one will pay any mind to those things. Your beauty is so blinding, it outshines everything else.”

“Perhaps
you
think so,” she muttered.

“I
definitely
think so,” he corrected, kissing the tip of her nose. “You have nothing to fear. The company we’ll keep are infamous for their eccentricities. My sister and Remington aren’t conventional by any means, and Merrick disappeared for years. To this day no one knows where he was.
That
sort of behavior is odd. My arriving with a gorgeous woman on my arm is positively commonplace, regardless of her attire.”

Charlotte looked away, stung by the knowledge that she was simply one of many. She’d known he would be a temporary pleasure when she met him. Why she’d allowed herself to care for him, she couldn’t say. But then, it was most likely inevitable. How could any woman deny him anything, including her heart?

“I have never taken a woman to meet my sister before,” he said softly, and when she turned to look at him, it was clear he knew her thoughts. His dark eyes studied her face, a frown gathering between his brows.

To divert him from his intense perusal, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “Thank you for helping me, Hugh. I cannot begin to tell you what it means to me.”

“No more, I imagine, than what it means to me that you trust me to do so.” He tucked her against his chest and sighed. “Are you even a little excited to leave this place and mingle with the rest of the world?”

“Oh, I’m very excited. This will be Gwen’s first time away from the district, and I eagerly anticipate meeting Lucien Remington. I’ve heard some—”

She squealed as she was tackled to the settee.

Hugh loomed over her with narrowed gaze. “You’ve been trapped out here for three years, and the most excitement you can muster is for Lucien Remington?”

Charlotte made no attempt to squelch the thrill she felt at his possessiveness. She blinked innocently. “Well, he’s rather legendary among the demimonde. I met his mother once. A delightful woman. She—”

Lowering his head, Hugh bit her bottom lip.

“Ow!” she complained, pouting.

“He’s married. To my sister. Very happily, I should point out. It’s almost sickening the way they fawn over one another.”

She shrugged. “I can look.”

“No,” he said gruffly. “You cannot.”

“You’re jealous!” Giggling, she tugged his head down and kissed him. Against her thigh, she felt his cock swell. “You should know that women like to ogle handsome men. Usually with as much enthusiasm as men like to ogle attractive women.”

“My sister might not approve,” he said, against her lips.

“Oh, you see, women actually like it when the men they escort draw such avid attention. It makes us quite proud to possess something so desired.”

“Hmmm . . .” Hugh’s mouth twitched as he held back a smile. “I suppose I should round up some admirers. Perhaps then you’ll pay more attention to me than to Remington.”

Charlotte’s smile wavered. She almost didn’t want to leave the estate, preferring instead to remain trapped with Hugh, safe from the forces that would separate them.

“Ah,
some
women like it,” he noted perceptively, his hands brushing the hair away from her face. “But you are not one of them.”

The conversation was rapidly moving to areas best left unexplored. “You’re heavy,” she said, trying to create distance between them, even if it was only physical. It was a lie, of course. She relished the feel of his hard, powerful body stretched over hers. She loved how it made her feel cherished and cared for, instead of dominated.

“You bear my weight often. This is the first I’ve heard you complain.” His gaze burned her with its intensity. “Am I beginning to bore you, Charlotte?”

“No!” Her hands reached for his face. In the last fortnight, she’d learned many things about her lover, the most important being how deeply he feared being expendable. “Oh, Hugh, not that. Never that.”

“Never?” He brushed his mouth across hers.

Arching up into his weight, she pulled him close. “Take me to bed now.”

“Why?”

She offered a seductive smile. “You know why.”

“Yes.” He lifted away from her. “I know why.”

Charlotte watched him, confused, as he rose from the settee and moved to the window where she’d stood a moment ago.

“What do you think about when we’re making love?” he asked suddenly.

“What do I . . . ?” She shook her head and sat up. “I don’t think about anything.”

“Precisely.”

“What are you saying?”

“You use sex as a way to avoid your feelings.”

She was speechless for a moment, surprised by the accusation. “And you don’t?” she scoffed, rising to her feet.

“No rows,” came Gwen’s chastising voice from the doorway. She swept into the room with her customary enthusiasm. Dressed in sprigged muslin, with her long, dark hair tied at the nape, she appeared younger than her seventeen years. “We’ve been trapped together for days. ’Tis inevitable that we would become a tad testy with one another.”

“I’ve been here for years,” Charlotte retorted. “Montrose is the testy one. Perhaps his lordship is the one who is bored?”

Hugh turned from the window, and the smoldering light in his eyes stole her breath. “With the games you play to keep me at bay? Yes, I weary of them.”

“Keep you at bay? How can you say that after these last two weeks?”

He snorted, and her hands clenched into fists. He wanted everything, damn him.

Gwen coughed discreetly. “Cook outdid herself for tea. Katie will be bringing it up shortly.”

Bowing, and looking damned dashing while doing it, Hugh said, “You must excuse me today, Miss Guinevere. I feel a headache coming on. I believe I’ll retire for a nap.” His glare blamed Charlotte as he walked past her and left the room without another word.

“Oh.” Gwen’s wide-eyed gaze moved to Charlotte. “He’s not testy. He’s angry.”

“Apparently.”

“Will he still take us with him when he departs?”

The plaintive note in Gwen’s voice drew Charlotte from her thoughts. “Of course,” she soothed. “He won’t be angry in an hour or so.”

Gwen’s head tilted to the side. “Why not?”

“Men don’t usually stay angry at women for long.” Charlotte moved back to the settee as Katie entered with a cacophony of rattling china. “Even if the fault is ours.”

Sighing, Gwen joined her, spreading out her skirts to avoid wrinkles, as Charlotte had taught her. “I don’t believe I will ever understand men. The more I learn about them, the less they make sense.”

Charlotte laughed. “Truer words were never spoken.”

“If Lord Montrose is bored, perhaps I could play whist with him, or cassino, though it’s not as much fun with only two.”

“He’d probably enjoy that.”

Hugh had taken a liking to Gwen, and his gentle, courtly dealings with the young girl warmed Charlotte’s heart.

“But perhaps you meant to say, it is the company that bores him,” Gwen said, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh, no, Gwen.” Charlotte covered her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If he’s bored with anything, it’s me.”

“I doubt it’s that.” Reaching for the tea, Gwen began to serve, demonstrating a grace and social adeptness Charlotte had worked hard to teach her.

But Charlotte had no formal training. Everything she knew about proper social deportment was learned from studying others. She wanted Gwen to have a better start in life, and already time was running out. Gwen would come of age in less than a year.

“Montrose is smitten with you, Charlotte. It must be thrilling to have so handsome a man take such a keen interest in you.”

“It is,” she agreed. “I’m afraid, however, that I’m terribly smitten myself.”

“Why be afraid?”

“Because we’d never suit.”

“You suit beautifully,” Gwen scoffed.

“In some ways, but in others we’re worlds apart. You haven’t experienced the class system yet, but you will.”

“You are a duchess.”

“I am a counterfeit duchess. The title doesn’t change who I’ve always been. And this discussion is moot in any case. Lord Montrose is a man who holds only temporary interest in women.”

Passing over a cup and saucer, Gwen smiled. “I propose a toast.”

“Over tea?” Charlotte arched a brow.

“Don’t tell me it’s not proper. It’s all we have at the moment, so it will have to do.”

Charlotte laughed. Gwen’s enthusiasm for life had never diminished, despite having spent so much of her childhood hidden away as a mistake. “Very well. What are we toasting?”

“New adventures.”

Charlotte raised her cup. “To new adventures.”

 

“Are we almost there?” Gwen asked. She craned her neck out the carriage window, her hand holding her bonnet to her head so it wouldn’t blow away.

Hugh watched her antics with a wide grin, understanding how excited she must be to venture out after all these years. “How many times do you intend to ask that question, Miss Guinevere?”

“As many times as necessary for you to give me a straight answer.” She shot him an arched look. “‘When we arrive’ is not a proper response.”

“When have we ever done anything properly?” Charlotte teased, laughing as Gwen scowled in response.

“Oh, we’re turning! We must be here!” Gwen nearly shook with excitement. “What a beautiful property. I wasn’t aware they could make homes that big. And look at all the carriages!”

“Damnation,” Hugh muttered, looking over Gwen’s head to see the front of the Remington manse. Neoclassical in design, with fluted columns and overlooking a wide circular drive, it was stunning in its elegance. But the beautiful façade didn’t hold his attention. Instead his narrowed gaze was riveted to the line of carriages that clogged the drive. Shunned by the highest tiers of Society, the Remingtons nevertheless had no lack of friends or acquaintances.

“Good heavens.” Charlotte’s hands went to her throat. “What will we do now?”

Hugh blew out a frustrated breath. He’d intended to tell Julienne about Charlotte, Gwen, and the whole mess with Glenmoore’s map, but now he would have to alter course. Charlotte had taken great pains to hide her marriage to Glenmoore—encouraging Artemis to scare away visitors and hiding Gwen. Looking at her now, he could see the tension tightening her lips.

“Not to worry,” Hugh soothed, thinking quickly. “Gwen will simply be your companion.”

“And I will be Mrs. Riddleton,” Charlotte finished, reaching for his hands and squeezing them tightly. “Your widowed paramour. You’re brilliant, Hugh!”

“Riddleton?” he asked, even as warmth spread from her compliment up to his heart.

“My maiden name.” Her eyes sparkled, and Hugh felt great satisfaction in having lightened her worries. It was a feeling to which a man could grow accustomed.

Gwen giggled. “It will be fun! Like a charade.” She resumed her seat and rubbed her gloved hands together. “You are an angel sent from above, Lord Montrose. I cannot tell you how happy I am that your carriage was disabled near our home. If you hadn’t come along, I would be studying right now and lamenting my boredom. Instead I am about to enjoy my first social gathering. I do hope there are more handsome men to ogle.”

“Good God,” Hugh muttered, arching a brow at Charlotte, who had the temerity to grin.

It took a few moments for the other carriages to dispatch their passengers and luggage, but it seemed all too soon that they were alighting by the front steps. Hugh was holding his hand out to Charlotte when a familiar deep voice sounded behind him.

“Montrose, we weren’t expecting you.”

Looking over his shoulder, Hugh smiled at his brother-in-law. “I couldn’t allow you to have a gathering without me. Can you imagine how dreadfully boring that would be?”

Lucien Remington laughed aloud. “We’re delighted to have you. And your lovely companions.”

Charlotte stood on the bottom step with wide eyes. Gwen was worse, with her mouth agape. Both women stared at Lucien with obvious appreciation. Scowling, Hugh pulled Charlotte closer.

“Remington, allow me to present my very good friend, Mrs. Riddleton, and her companion, Miss . . .” Hugh cleared his throat to get Gwen’s attention.

“Sherling,” she blurted out, sticking out her hand. “Guinevere Sherling.”