Seducing Charlotte (14 page)

The footman’s words came rushing back. “
The marquess is ape drunk, quite out of it he is.”
Yet
,
just this evening, Willa had said how well Cam could hold his liquor and that Hart had never seen Cam foxed. And David Selwyn had arranged the game. Selwyn? Could he be in on whatever scheme his sister had in mind? She immediately dismissed the notion. He had seemed genuinely puzzled and concerned about his sister’s whereabouts.

Struggling to organize her thoughts, she forced herself to think. Where was Cam? Up in his bed and Selwyn seemed poised to head to the bedchambers in search of his sister. A chill sliced through her. Her legs tingling, she turned and almost ran back to the kitchen, trying to balance the teacup to avoid spilling it again. She came to an abrupt halt as she entered the kitchen. The staff looked up in surprise to see her back among them.

“Is your tea all right then, miss?” Cook asked.

“What? Oh, yes quite, thank you,” she said, putting the tea down while searching out Nathan. She found his eyes fixed on her, one brow cocked.

“I am afraid my escritoire has shifted most uncomfortably and I require immediate assistance to right it.” She focused on Nathan, pretending not to notice when one of the footmen stood up. “Mr. Coachman, if you please. I am in most urgent need of your services.”

Nathan’s frown lasted just a second. By the time he stood up, a blank mask had replaced it. “Of course, Miss Livingston,” he said, his voice tinged with a sarcasm that only she could detect.

“What is this all about?” Nathan demanded once they were well out of earshot of the others and hurrying up the stairs.

“I am not certain.” She felt breathless, almost light-headed. “But I think Miss Selwyn is up to something and I need you to accompany me to Cam’s chamber.”

Nathan frowned. “Camryn’s chamber? Whatever for?”

“Just help me, please.” Her hands trembled as they slid along the carved, wooden banister. “I will explain everything later.”

When they reached Cam’s bedchamber, Charlotte pushed the door open without knocking, praying they weren’t too late. The scene that greeted them shocked her, even as it confirmed her worst suspicions.

Clad only in a diaphanous shift which showcased her full, barely clad breasts, Miss Selwyn was comfortably ensconced in Cam’s bed, her long, golden curls fanning out across the pillow like angel’s wings. Cam’s limp arm was draped over her waist, but Charlotte immediately saw he wasn’t awake.

“Well, I’ll be—” Nathan began.

Catching sight of them, Miss Selwyn jerked upright. “What in the world?” Her grey eyes narrowed at first, but then she lifted her chin, exposing a creamy expanse of neck as satisfaction settled over the lovely contours of her face. “Well, Miss Livingston, as you can see, the marquess and I cannot stay away from each other.” She stretched and snuggled closer to Cam’s inert body. “And now that I have been so scandalously compromised, it won’t be long before the banns are being read.”

Outrage clouded Charlotte’s vision. “Compromised?” Her nostrils flared. “I don’t know what you mean, Miss Selwyn. I have seen nothing. What about you, Mr. Coachman?”

“I?” Nathan’s eyebrows rose. “Not a thing, Miss Livingston.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Charlotte ducked her head out the door to see Selwyn, Hartwell, and Hugh heading their way. Slamming the door, she whirled around to Nathan. “Hurry, help me get her into Cam’s dressing room before they discover her here.”

When he didn’t immediately move, she pushed him toward the bed. “Hurry, Nathan, don’t just stand there. Help me move her.” She grabbed the counterpane and flung it off the woman. The movement brought a grunt from Cam, who shifted in his drunken sleep.

“Get away from me, you skinny bluestocking!” Miss Selwyn hissed, trying to grab the cover to shield herself.

Nathan advanced, looming over her, amusement lighting his features. “Come now, Miss Selwyn, do not be difficult.” He reached to pull her up out of the bed.

“Don’t touch me.” She drew back, panic shining in her eyes. “You’re just a servant. Don’t you dare put your hands on my person.”

Nathan laughed, but the sound held no amusement. “It wouldn’t be the first time now would it, Maggie?” Miss Selwyn gasped when he hauled her up as if she weighed nothing, a dangerous glint glittering in his eyes. “And as I recall, you weren’t protesting the last time I laid my hands on you, moaning maybe, but definitely not complaining.”

Charlotte didn’t have time to be scandalized by her brother’s words. “Hurry, Nathan.” She pushed them both toward Cam’s dressing room. She managed to get them all inside, slamming the dressing room door shut just as the door to Cam’s chamber swung open, followed by the sounds of muffled voices.

“He is alone.” It sounded like Selwyn, the relief evident in his voice.

“Sir, we must look around,” said a squeaky, uncertain voice. Miss Selwyn’s maid. Charlotte looked back at Margaret who glared back with a look of pure hatred in her eyes. Nathan held Miss Selwyn firmly around the waist with one hand while the other remained clamped over her mouth to keep her quiet. At that moment, Miss Selwyn struggled and made a muffled sound from behind his hand, her eyes blaring.

“What was that?” said Selwyn’s voice.

The grim voice of the Duke of Hartwell. “It appears someone is closeted in the dressing chamber.”

Charlotte panicked as footsteps clicked their way. How would she explain why the three of them were in the small, dark room? She glanced back at Miss Selwyn’s state of undress. Her interference with the woman’s scheme would be pointless if the men found Margaret half-naked in Cam’s dressing room. Heat rose in Charlotte’s chest. She couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—allow Margaret to win Cam this way.

Footsteps paused outside the dressing room door. Charlotte looked around wildly, desperate for a way out of this mess. Seeing none, she took a deep breath, opened the dressing room door, and stepped out into the Marquess of Camryn’s bedchamber.

Chapter Fourteen

Four bleary pairs of eyes gaped at Charlotte.

The men were flushed, their clothes slightly askew from the evening’s excesses. Selwyn’s rounded eyes were edged with relief, likely because the lady stepping out of the closet and into disaster wasn’t his sister. The duke’s eyebrows lifted, his glance darting between Charlotte and Cam. Miss Selwyn’s maid was slack-faced. But it was the expression on Hugh’s face that truly alarmed her, especially as the booze-filled flush in his ruddy face deepened into a distressing shade of purple.

Cam chose that moment to begin to stir. “What the devil?” He groaned and blinked repeatedly, his face scrunching up in confusion when he saw five pairs of eyes staring at him. It was at that moment that Charlotte realized Cam wasn’t wearing any clothes. When she’d pulled back the counterpane to drag Miss Selwyn out of the bed, she’d unwittingly uncovered most of Cam’s impressive physique as well.

Her eyes were riveted when he stirred like a lazy cat, his bare, sculpted body glistening as the firelight flirted with it. The counterpane cover dipped dangerously low, revealing the enticing shadow of hair surrounding his manly anatomy.

Cam realized it just in time. “Bloody hell.” He sat up, grabbing the counterpane to shield himself. The sudden movement appeared to cause him great pain. Wincing, he grabbed his head with a groan.

Hugh stepped forward, his face almost the color of an eggplant. “Yes, what the devil indeed!” he choked out, appearing close to a complete eruption. “Perhaps you would care to explain why my sister is here in your room with you, with you—” He gestured agitatedly towards Cam’s obvious state of undress.

Cam’s eyes narrowed. “Your sister?” His gaze floated over to her, surprise registering in his face.

Hugh’s venomous glare suggested he’d like to both shoot Cam
and
run him through with the sharpest, longest blade available. “Perhaps you would care to explain Charlotte’s presence in your bedchamber.”

“I was getting him a dressing gown,” she uttered, knowing just how weak her excuse sounded. Hartwell, Selwyn, and Hugh all looked at her empty hands. Miss Selwyn’s maid peered around the room, probably in search of her mistress.

“I couldn’t find it,” Charlotte said weakly, answering their unasked question. A long, uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Charlotte grappled for a way to rescue the situation, but despite all the alternating scenarios and haphazard excuses crashing through her head, nothing formed into a cohesive thought.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, praying no more sounds would be forthcoming from the closet. “I came to check on my betrothed.”

All eyes in the room swung over to her.

“Your betrothed?” Hugh sputtered.

“Yes.” Charlotte’s heart clamored as she tried to inject her words with calm indignation. “We meant to ask for your approval this evening, Hugh. But seeing as though you are all in your cups, it seems rather pointless. Really, you all ought to be ashamed of your behavior.” She blinked repeatedly, trying to summon tears, which, considering her very real distress, wasn’t entirely difficult. “I hope you are pleased with yourselves. You have totally ruined our surprise.”

Hugh’s overgrown eyebrows squished together. “Your surprise?”

“Yes,” she lied, clenching her hands together to stop from scratching behind her itching ears. “Why do you think Willa invited you here so suddenly? It was for our big announcement.”

Hugh’s mouth hung open. “You and the marquess have reached an understanding?”

“Ask Her Grace if you doubt my word.” She squared her shoulders, making a mental note to get to Willa before Hugh did.

“Is that so, Camryn?” her brother asked sharply, the color in his face easing into a less disquieting shade of red. “Have you made my sister an offer of marriage?”

An almost unbearable stillness hung over the room as they all looked expectantly at Cam. Charlotte rubbed her arms, praying he was sober enough to comprehend the dire nature of their predicament.

The cloud of confusion in Cam’s amber-green eyes gave way to a wicked gleam. “Ah, yes.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he held a hand out to Charlotte. “Congratulate me, gentlemen. Miss Livingston has agreed to make me the happiest man in England.”

Relief weakened her legs. Determined to continue playing her part, she waved away the hand Cam offered. “Remember yourself, my lord. You are in your cups and not decent to be seen by anyone at this moment.” Charlotte’s voice trembled, but the men seemed to take her admonishment to heart. All except for Cam, who made a very poor attempt to look sheepish.

Hartwell cleared his throat. “Well, I say, this calls for a drink.” He bowed toward Charlotte. “In honor of your betrothal of course, Miss Livingston.”

“Of course,” she said drily.

It all seemed to be sinking in for Hugh who realized the match he’d ardently hoped for was coming to pass after all. “Well, yes indeed.” A broad smile broke out across his face, the red in it returning to an almost natural color. “This most definitely calls for a celebratory drink. Charlotte, I trust you are coming?”

“I’ve had enough excitement for one evening. I shall retire to my bedchamber,” she said. “But why don’t you gentlemen have a drink in our honor. Though it hardly seems as if you need an excuse to indulge.”

Her glance kept flitting over to the dressing room door. She needed to get Miss Selwyn out of Cam’s bedchamber before the woman stirred up any more trouble.

Selwyn turned to follow the other two men out. “My sincerest felicitations, Camryn. You are a fortunate man, indeed.” He cast a warm smile in Charlotte’s direction as he exited the room, leaving the door slightly ajar to protect what was left of her tattered reputation.

Cam’s warm, golden gaze flashed, his insouciant grin widening. “My dear, I wanted to marry you anyway. I am flattered you would go to all of this trouble to compromise me.”

“Oh, Cam. I did not know what else to do.” Deep distress cramped her stomach. “Now you are going to be bound inextricably to me.”

He sat up, the sleek muscles in his arms flexing from the effort. “Charlotte, there is nothing I would like more than to be inextricably bound to you.” He held out his hand to her, his dancing eyes full of flirtatious intention. “And I confess, I would not mind getting totally bound to you starting right now.”

Nathan charged out of the dressing room with a lethal look on his face. “Keep your drawers on Camryn,” he growled. “Unless you want her other brother to finish the job of killing you.”

Cam’s forehead shot up. “What are you doing in my dressing room?” His mouth fell open when a disheveled-looking, barely clad Miss Selwyn tumbled out after Nathan.

Charlotte spotted the woman’s gown folded neatly on a stool by the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief that nobody else had noticed it before now. She snatched up the dress and
pitched it at Miss Selwyn, before pushing the woman back into the dressing room.

“What in blazes do you think you are doing?” Miss Selwyn snapped, her usually perfect golden curls all askew. She tried to slap Charlotte’s hands away. “You are not going to lock me back in there.”

“Do not tempt me.” Charlotte gave Margaret one final shove into the dressing room. “Cover yourself. I won’t have you parading in front of my betrothed looking like a common trollop.”

“I won’t let you get away with this,” Miss Selwyn said, her voice trembling with fury.

“Don’t push me. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of.” Charlotte slammed the dressing room door on the woman’s flushed, outraged face.

Cam slumped back against the plump pillows. “I must be dreaming. Either that or I’m still foxed out of my mind.” He shot Charlotte a naughty glance. “As long as none of it is actually happening, I might as well enjoy this hallucination.” He held open the counterpane, beckoning her, revealing an enticing flash of hard, masculine thigh dusted with amber hairs. “It’s never too early to anticipate the marriage bed, and I can’t tell you how much I’ve anticipated seeing you divested of all of those troublesome garments.”

Nathan’s face flushed. “It is no dream, you bloody arse.” He started toward Cam. “And I am going to give you a thrashing that will most definitely wake you up.”

Choking back a laugh, Charlotte clutched Nathan’s arm. “He’s foxed, Nathan. Let him be.”

Her brother hesitated, looking the other man over in an assessing way. Cam jauntily cocked a questioning brow in response.

The loopy behavior brought a reluctant smile to Nathan’s face. “I believe he’s more than foxed, Lottie.”

“What do you mean?”

“It appears our cunning Miss Selwyn has given him something a bit stronger.”

Violence roiled in her chest. “Why…that…I will throttle her!” She bolted for the dressing room door.

Grabbing her around the waist, he hauled her back to where she started. “Calm yourself, little sister. Enough is enough. You’ve won this round. Let the lovely Miss Selwyn be.” The dressing room door opened. Fully dressed, Miss Selwyn stepped out, patting her hair into place.

“What did you give him, you witch?” Charlotte lunged for her, but Nathan tightened his hold on her waist.

Recoiling, Miss Selwyn scurried for the door. “Stay away from me, you plain sack of bones.”

Charlotte broke free and hurtled after her, slamming the door shut just as Miss Selwyn pulled it open. “You will go nowhere until you tell us exactly what did to Cam.”

“Nothing.” Holding her hands up in a defensive posture, she backed away. “I swear it.”

“Just tell her what she wants to know, Miss Selwyn,” Nathan said. “Your scheme is quite ruined anyway.”

A fleeting look of uncertainty crossed her face. “Fine,” she huffed. “It was just a silly sleeping draught. He’ll be fine in the morning.” She gave Charlotte a disdainful look. “Until, of course, he realizes he is betrothed to you.”

Charlotte thought she heard Nathan chuckle. When she glared at him, he held up his hands in innocence.

Miss Selwyn drew herself up. “He loved me, you know. He worshipped my body.” She cast a disparaging look along Charlotte’s tall, slender form.

Charlotte wanted to pummel her. “He worshipped you to such an extent that you needed to trap him into matrimony?”

“He may have been reluctant at first.” Miss Selwyn’s cold grey gaze drilled into her. “But I can assure you, once he was in my bed, I would have won him over. I am precisely the type of wife a marquess should have. I would make a perfect marchioness.” Her laugh chilled the air. “Do you really think you have saved him by keeping him from me?”

Charlotte winced. In Miss Selwyn, Cam would have had the perfect political wife— beautiful, smart, engaging. Cam might have eventually been won over. In trying to save him, Charlotte might have propelled Cam onto a course he would soon hate her for.

“Do you think a wife with radical thoughts like yours will help further his political career?” Miss Selwyn said. “And furthermore, he is now stuck with a shapeless bluestocking for a wife.”

Cam stirred into a languorous stretch. “Margaret, pardon me for saying so, but when you stand next to Charlotte like that, you do look a little, dare I say, fat?”

Nathan guffawed. Miss Selwyn’s face flushed a crimson red. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, she clamped her lips together and stomped out of the chamber, slamming the door behind her.

Cam watched her go with a confused look on his face. “I say this is a most interesting dream. Charlotte and Margaret in my bedchamber.” He yawned extravagantly. “I just want Charlotte alone, only my beautiful love,” he said softly, drifting off to sleep. Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat, a warm, all-encompassing love for him welled up in her chest again. Tears stung her eyes.

Nathan misunderstood. “Don’t cry, love. Whatever draught she gave him, your marquess will be just fine in the morning. He’ll have a headache perhaps, but I suspect he will be no worse for it.”

A horrible new fear swept over her. Eyeing Cam’s sleeping form, she asked, “Do you think he’ll recall we are supposed to be betrothed when he awakens?”

Nathan’s eyes darkened. “Do not worry, Lottie. We will all see that he does. You can be certain of that.”

She suddenly felt exhausted, weary right to the bone. Light-headed, she swayed on her feet.

Nathan caught her. “Come on, little girl,” he said, using a childhood endearment. “It is not every day that a lady becomes betrothed. Obviously, the excitement has had an effect on you.”

Leaning on her big brother as they walked toward the door, she still had one nagging question. “Nathan, how did you manage to keep that awful woman quiet in the closet?”

“It wasn’t difficult,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s just say Miss Selwyn decided to make the best of the situation.”

For the first time, Charlotte took note of her brother’s swollen mouth and mussed hair, but she was too spent to summon any reaction beyond mild shock. Sighing, she let Nathan guide her back to her room.

…

Late the following morning, Cam found Charlotte taking one of her brisk walks along Fairview Manor grounds. Beyond the estate’s magnificent gardens were endless uncultivated fields punctuated by tree-lined areas and clusters of dense woods.

“There you are,” he said, pulling her up against him. “You aren’t running away from me again, are you?”

“Cam.” She pushed away. “We mustn’t.”

“Oh now, I will have none of that.” His eyes twinkling, he snuggled her against his lean, molded form. “Do say you won’t deny me the sweet honey found only upon the lips of my betrothed.”

Relenting, she allowed her body to fall against him. A part of her was relieved he remembered their betrothal, the other profoundly fearful because she had no choice but to tell him the truth now. Before their betrothal went any further.

His lips sought hers, opening them and reaching in to taste her. He kissed her so thoroughly, so deliciously, that her legs turned immediately to butter.

“Charlotte,” he murmured, his lips moving to her throat, playfully nipping and licking her.

She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him, yet somehow she found the strength to pull away.