Springtime Pleasures (26 page)

Coldness seeped through Charlie. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” She stood and slowly walked back to the dressing table. Resting her hands on the edge, she stared into the mirror.

Charlie-in-the-mirror stared back at her with huge dark eyes, almost black in her pale face.

“Are you alright?” Caroline asked worriedly.

Charlie glanced at her in the mirror. “Yes. Thank you. I am grateful to you for telling me.” Her stomach churned.
Dear God, what shall I do?
Her family didn’t want her, so where was there for her to go?

She wetted her dry lips. “If you would excuse me. I think I would like to be alone now.”

“Of course.” Her cousin stood, then walked to the door. There she stopped and turned around one last time. “I am very sorry,” she repeated.

With a soft click, the door closed behind her.

That night, Charlie sat at her window for a very long time, only watched by the kind, old moon.

By the time dawn broke, she had come to a decision.

Chapter 17

in which the seventh heaven of bachelorhood

is invaded by a person

of the female persuasion

Mr Dalton, the day porter at the main entrance of the Albany, eyed the tall, bespectacled lad standing in front of him with misgivings. The boy was clutching a carpet bag and a small travelling chest tied with string, and regarded the porter from cold green eyes.

“For Lord Chanderley, eh?” Mr Dalton repeated. There seemed something not quite right about the whole affair. If the lad would bother my lord, there would be hell to pay given that Lord Chanderley was in a devil of a temper these days. Mr Bing, the valet, had confided he feared his lordship’s humours were quite out of balance. He would appreciate it if all disturbances were kept at a minimum. There was no telling what set off my lord these days. Moreover—here Mr Bing’s voice dropped to a discreet murmur—he feared my lord had taken to the bottle. It was most distressing for a gentleman’s gentleman if one’s employer let go of himself in such a fashion.

The lad pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Indeed,” he said coolly. “It’s an important private message. Which I have to deliver personally.”

Mr Dalton sighed, trying to decide what would annoy Lord Chanderley more: if it was an important message and he didn’t the lad pass, or if he let the lad pass and his business turned out to be a very trivial matter. “Well then,” he finally said, deciding he could not possibly be held responsible for the contents of messages passed to the inhabitants of the Albany. “Go through the Mansion, here, down the Rope Walk. You’ll want Flat C3—keep note of the letters that are posted at each entrance.” He took another look at the lad. “Your face seems familiar. Have I seen you before?”

A faint hint of red stained the boy’s cheeks. “Not at all. May I leave my chest with you?”

Mr Dalton frowned. He wondered whether the lad was a young relative of Lord Chanderley’s, having run away from school. All in all, he seemed a nice boy, even if he had forgotten to take off his cap when speaking to his elders.

“I’ll give you a penny for your trouble.”

Feeling quite fatherly all of a sudden, Mr Dalton shook his head. The boy was probably in some kind of predicament—it was to be hoped that my lord didn’t just send the poor child away. “Save your pennies, laddie. Put the chest here in the lodge, out of sight.”

The boy followed these instructions, then touched the edge of his cap—“I thank you most kindly”—before stepping through the short hallway onto the Rope Walk that ran between the two apartment blocks at the back of the Mansion.

The porter watched him walking down the pathway, his narrow back ramrod straight. Then he disappeared into Block C.

Mr Dalton tugged at his moustache. If only he had not decided wrongly.

~*~

Clutching her carpet bag with sweaty fingers, Charlie marched down what the porter had called the Rope Walk, a canopy-covered pathway that ran between the two rows of cream-coloured houses.

If she had learnt anything during her time in London it was that quite a number of things were considered
improper
for a lady. On the other hand, a young gentleman could do without opprobrium the very same things that were considered improper for a young lady. So she had decided that for what she planned to do, she would need to become a young gentleman.

Not too difficult given my complete lack of curves,
she thought wryly.

She spotted Block C on her left and, squaring her shoulders, strode through the door and up the stairs to the first floor. And there it was: Flat C3.

With her heart hammering against her ribs, she knocked on the door.

After a moment, it opened to reveal a man in black trousers and jacket. He looked Charlie up and down. “Yes?”

“I have a message for Lord Chanderley, and I need to deliver it in person.”

Behind him she could see a small anteroom with doors leading into other rooms.

The man cleared his throat. “My lord is not at home, I am afraid.”

“Who the hell is it, Bing?” she heard Chanderley’s muffled voice from somewhere inside the flat. “Get rid of them!”

Charlie raised her brows. “That does not sound as if Lord Chanderley were not at home.” Leaning forward, she called out, “Chanderley, are you at home?”

The man called Bing gave her an annoyed look. “Whatever did you do that for? Have you no manners, boy? Lord Chanderley is not socially—”

“What the hell?” One of the doors was thrust open and my lord Chanderley came storming into the anteroom like an irate bull. When he caught sight of Charlie, he abruptly stopped.

He was wearing no jacket, his waistcoat was halfway unbuttoned, and his shirt rumpled. His normally immaculate hair was likewise in considerable disarray, as if he had continuously run his hands through it. He looked rather barbarous.

Ignoring her galloping heart, Charlie gave him a winning smile. “Hullo, Chanderley.”

His eyes widened. “I’ll be damned. What are you—” He halted, and glowered at the hapless Mr Bing.

“May I come in?” Charlie asked. “Whatever happened to you? You look a fright!”

He gritted his teeth. “You must be out of your mind,” he ground out, obviously not at all pleased to see her. Well, that couldn’t be helped. “Bing!” he barked. “Take the afternoon off!”

“M-my lord?”

“
Now
!” He pushed the man out of the door, and, grabbing Charlie’s wrist, dragged her inside the flat.

With a bang, the door closed behind her.

“Are you out of your mind?” he bellowed.

Charlie put her carpet bag down, then eyed him critically. “Are you foxed?” she asked. “That would explain the state of your clothes, I suppose.”

“I’m damn well—” He snatched her cap, then gaped at her as if struck dumb by amazement.

She raised a self-conscious hand to her very short hair. “I cut it. Does it look very bad?” She had tightly wrapped the cut-off strands in paper and packed them at the bottom of her bag, for she hadn’t wanted to leave any clue behind that she would travel in the disguise of a boy.

Stupefied, Chanderley looked her up and down. “What do you think you are doing? What are you
wearing
?”

Charlie raised her chin. “There is no need for you to sound so censorious,” she said crisply. “I hardly could have come to you as myself. What a scandal that would have been!”

“And this isn’t?” he growled.

“Actually not, because nobody knows who I am or that I’m with you. Except for you, of course.”

Abruptly, he turned away from her, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “This is beyond…”

Charlie came up behind him and tentatively laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve come to say goodbye, Chanderley. I wanted to see you one last time.” Sorrow rose inside her, but she fought it back. It had no place in what she wanted to do, forging memories to treasure in the future.

She lightly stroked her hand down his back. “Our last parting was filled with so much bitterness. I didn’t want to part with you on such terms.” She knew her behaviour would be considered shocking and most improper, yet what did she care, now her London life was shattered in a million pieces? She leaned her forehead against his broad back, inhaling his scent. No, she didn’t care how improper she was. She wanted to steep herself in him at least once so the memories would last her a lifetime.

“George?” she murmured. “You couldn’t keep your promise for the Tollham ball. I thought, maybe, your flat had some interesting niche you could show me.”

He quickly turned, catching her upper arms in his big hands. His eyes were narrowed as he studied her. “What is this? Are you trying to
trap
me into marriage now?”

“No!” Angrily she freed herself, and took a step back. “How can you even think such a thing?”

“What am I supposed to think? You come here,
proposing
to me in this fashion. Do you think my honour would allow me to bed you and
not
to marry you?”

His wretched honour. Charlie had had quite enough of it! She held his gaze as she shrugged out of the coat she was wearing. “I release you from you honourable obligations.” She started working on the buttons of her waistcoat.

“It does not work that way.” He frowned. “What are you doing?” he asked in forbidding tones.

But she could see that for all his protests, his eyes dropped to follow the progress of her unbuttoning fingers.

Suppressing a smile, she let her waistcoat drop to the floor. “Really, Chanderley, I thought this would have been obvious.” She began to work on the knot in her neckcloth.

“Stop it!” he demanded hoarsely. “This is not a game, Carlotta!”

“I love it when you say my name in this deliciously stern voice,” she told him. “It makes feel my all aflutter inside.” As it was, it was her neckcloth which fluttered to the ground. The lapels of her shirt fell drunkenly to the side.

Groaning, Chanderley closed his eyes. “You are killing me!”

Charlie looked down. True, you
could
see the swell of her breasts, yet the shirt was not any more revealing than several of her London dresses. “It’s not as if you haven’t seen parts of my bosom before.”

Another heartfelt groan. “Lud! Don’t
say
such things!”

This time the smile couldn’t be suppressed. With her lips curved, she walked towards him, this big, tall man, who trembled at the sight of a bit of her creamy flesh. Who would have thought it? How exciting this was!

She stopped in front of him, running her hands up his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jaw. “I release you from your honourable obligations,” she murmured, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “For once in your life, you may do whatever you want.”

A gift not just to herself, but also to him. She wanted to forge memories
he
could treasure, too, a reprieve from his suffocating guilt and his sense of obligation.

He made a sound like a wounded animal. Then his hand, big and rough and wonderful, slipped inside her shirt to cup one of her breasts while his mouth swooped down to capture hers in a heated kiss. It seared through her body, making her moan. She could taste some kind of potent wine on his tongue.

“Are you foxed?” she asked breathlessly.

“Hell! I must be three sheets to the wind to be doing this,” he muttered, but with his free hand drew her tighter against himself and kissed her again.

This time his thumb thrummed over her nipple until it was hard as a pebble and—oh my gosh!—so
sensitive
.

Charlie whimpered. She was already shivering with pleasure, and wondered how much more she would be able to take when this was already so much.

Chanderley released her lips to gasp, “I want you forever.” Breathing heavily like a horse that had been run too hard, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I am dying inside for I can’t… I can’t… You should hate me because I hate myself. You don’t know how much! But I cannot go against my family’s wishes in this. I have already cost them far too much.”

“Shhh.” Charlie put her fingers over his mouth, stopping the agitated flood of words that came pouring out of him. Her heart bled for him, for both of them. She could have wept at the torment she heard in his voice.

Yet she was determined that this was not the time for anguish and recriminations. So she forced her tone to be light when she answered. “Well. You can’t have me forever, we have already established that. But we can have
this
, can’t we?” She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Just this once?”

His brown eyes two pools of darkness, he stared at her. “I should say no.”

She might have pointed out that his protests were not very convincing, given that his hand was still curved around her breast as if this was the most natural place for it to be. “If we can’t have each other,” she said, ignoring the painful pang the mere thought of never seeing him again after this afternoon elicited, “can’t we have the memories of this at least? I’ve already told you, George: I am taking responsibility for this. I am releasing you from the obligations of honour. For once in your life, you can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want.” She stroked a hand over his cheek, again feeling that pang when he nestled his face into her palm as if treasuring her touch. “No obligations, George, and no regrets. For once, you are free to do whatever you please.”

He lowered his head, so Charlie could no longer see his expression. His hand flexed around her breast, and his thumb stroked over the sensitive skin at the side.

She gritted her teeth. It was difficult not to react to his touch when the merest brush of his fingers made her whole body tingle. Yet she felt she ought to make absolutely sure that he understood her proposition and that he wouldn’t be eaten up by even more guilt later on. “I offer you freedom, George,” she said softly, running her hand through his hair. “For this afternoon at least, here with me, you can do whatever you want.”

She jumped when his fingers suddenly closed over her nipple in a hard pinch. “Ow!”

He looked up, his expression even harsher than before, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Then I choose this.” He pinched her nipple again. “I will make you beg and scream with pleasure until you are hoarse,” he threatened darkly. He glanced down her body. “I will lick you,
devour
you from top to toe. I will drown you in so much pleasure you won’t know what to do with it.”