Twice the Temptation (33 page)

T
he afternoon flew by quickly, outdoor sports dominating the men’s attention. Catherine stayed close to the house and closer to her friends. She thanked heavens none of her sister’s intimates were present. In this instance, Charlotte’s five-year absence played to her advantage. There were no intimate talks to be had, no one to reminisce about a shared moment Catherine would have no knowledge of. No one to expose her. That is except for Lucas and she was giving him a wide berth. Until bedtime.

And it came much quicker than she could have anticipated despite the late hour they kept. After supper, the whole party proceeded to the drawing room for a game of charades. It was the gentlemen against the ladies. The gentlemen prevailed but Olivia groused her brother must have seen the cards. Rhys admonished her on her unsportsmanlike conduct. They traded barbs until Rhys surrendered in their mock war. 

Stomach full and euphoric from their win, the men remained behind to drink a glass of port when the ladies rose to make their way upstairs to their respective rooms. The whole thing was specifically orchestrated to give Catherine time to change into her nightclothes and freshen up before Lucas’s arrival. 

Catherine had not long doused the lamp and climbed into bed when the door to the bedroom opened. She remained perfectly still under the counterpane, barely allowing herself to breathe. 

The evenings were cool so a fire was still required to heat the rooms. That was the extent of the light, which rendered the room dark enough that he wouldn’t notice her straightaway. She heard his footsteps as he drew closer. He went straight to the gas lamp and within seconds, the room was suffused in a dim light. 

She sensed the moment he saw her under the covers. He swore softly under his breath. That was the moment she lifted her head and played the role of a woman rousing herself from the brink of sleep. She hoped she was convincing because she’d never felt more awake in her entire life. Or as nervous. 

He looked stunned as he stared down at her. “God, I’m sor—beg my pardon, Charlotte. I thought this was—?” Angling his head over his shoulder, he stared at the door as if the answer he sought would be there. A “V” had formed between his eyebrows when he returned his gaze to her. “There must have been some mistake. I was assigned this room.” 

Catherine pulled herself up into a sitting position, furrowed her brow, and tried to appear as nonplused as he. “Did Meghan not inform you that some of the rooms had to be switched due to Lord Shelby’s insistence on having west-facing windows in his room and my desire to have the room closest to the principal staircase? She assured me my request would inconvenience no one and that she would inform all the guests affected.” 

“I was told nothing. But I will speak with Granville to ascertain where I’m to sleep,” he said, already backing away from the bed. 

“Wait,” she said. Her stomach roiled and she wondered if she had the courage to go through with it. 

He halted, his gaze both wary and concerned. “What is it?” 

Grabbing her dressing robe from where she’d conveniently hung it over the bedstead at the foot of the bed, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and drew it on. When she was done, she slid out of bed and approached him. 

“I—” she cleared her throat and ran her tongue over her bottom lip “—it has been so long since we’ve spoken.” When his head reared back and his eyes widened and narrowed almost simultaneously, she continued on hastily, “I mean other than cordialities.” 

Lucas tipped his head back and stared at her as if he thought she belonged in an asylum. “I hardly think this is the time, Charlotte. Should anyone see us, this would not be…well many would misconstrue the situation.” He shot a nervous glance at the door. “And if word ever got back to that husband of yours…” And then as if a thought struck him, his gaze sharpened. “By the way, where is your husband? Why isn’t he here?” 

Catherine looked down and regarded her toes peeping out from beneath the hem of her white nightdress. “Alex did not want to come,” she whispered and silently applauded the forlornness of her tone. She raised her gaze to his and asserted in a firmer voice, “I did not want him to come knowing you would be here.” 

L
ucas felt as if he’d been struck on the back of the head with an iron pan. “What?” he was barely able to choke out. He didn’t like the inference that could be made if one was to judge from her peculiar behavior and that statement. He and the marquess were no longer at odds.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her nightdress snug against her breasts.

Dear God, her nipples were erect. This—this was not right. 

“Things between us haven’t been good for some time.” The sadness in her voice was so contrary to how she’d been the last he saw her. “I miss my life in America. My flat in Manhattan. My friends.” 

Lucas cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Well I’m sure it’s normal for you to feel melancholy at times. You did spend a fair number of years there.” To be frank, he hadn’t thought she enjoyed the place all that much. And the friends to whom she referred, he’d thought of as more of the acquaintance-type variety. 

“No you don’t understand. Sometimes—of late—I don’t know, I believe I may have made a mistake.” 

Lucas could only stare at her. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. 

“Perhaps it was too much to believe I could return and just take up as if nothing had passed between us.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful. 

Lucas had trouble swallowing, but he managed. “I take it you mean yourself and your husband?” 

Again, her arms tightened around her as she peeked up at him and gave a hesitant nod. 

This was one of those times in his life when he was sure up was down and right was left, the sky was the ocean and the ocean, the sky. The world as he knew it had ceased to make sense. 

“What are you saying, Charlotte?” He didn’t want to put words in her mouth but still he dreaded her answer. 

She shook her head and sent her unbound hair fluttering about her shoulders. “I’ve been thinking of what my life would have been like had I accepted your proposal of marriage.” 

Lucas stopped breathing as his heart wedged itself firmly in his throat. And when one can’t take in air, they become dizzy and lose consciousness. That would surely be preferable to the nightmare he was living. 

“Wh-what?” he finally choked out, the will to survive apparently as innate as a body’s need of oxygen. Although he did feel a little unsteady on his feet. 

“Oh Lucas, please do forgive me. I should never have said a word about it to you. That was most unfair of me. Especially now that you have Catherine and I am married to Alex.” She briefly looked down, guilt writ plain as day on her face. 

The breach between he and Catherine had only recently been healed. That Charlotte should now have doubts about her marriage and refusing his proposal could not have come at a worse time. 

Hell, there was no right time for these things to occur. None. 

Lucas could think of nothing worse than to be married to one sister while being the source of the wistful musings of the other. Yearning for the life they could have had together was like trying to build castles in the air. She had saved them both from a marriage that at best would be described as complacent and at worst, pedestrian. 

And if Catherine should ever learn about these wistful musings, there was no telling what she would do. No doubt she’d leave him believing he’d encouraged Charlotte’s affections. Worse, would be if she believed her sister’s feelings were reciprocated. 

“Charlotte,” he said panicked while endeavoring not to show it. “You have recently given birth to your second child. You’re not thinking clearly. You yourself told me that you’ve loved Alex almost half your life. The two of us—” he motioned between them with his hand “—we are the dearest of friends but that is all.” 

Her mouth trembled. He feared she was going to cry and he had to prevent that from happening. 

“Listen Charlotte, it’s when people are unhappy or vulnerable that such feelings can be confused for a different kind of love.” 

“But don’t you ever wonder about us?” she asked and took a step toward him. 

Lucas nearly stumbled in his haste to widen the gap between them that she was intent on closing one small step at a time. What the hell was she thinking and saying? He should not be in here with her. At night. Dressed as she was. 

“Charlotte, there is no us,” he replied softly. 

It was difficult to reconcile the woman before him with the woman he’d known for the last six years. He’d seen her vulnerable before, crying as if her heart were breaking. At the time, she’d led him to believe it was over the death of her husband. He’d since learned the tears and red-swollen eyes had been for her husband and the family she’d left behind in London. And never in all those years had her love for the marquess wavered—Lucas had seen that clearly on his visit to England a year ago. Never had she given him the faintest impression that she’d ever thought about
them
in that way. As lovers. As husband and wife. Not once. 

None of this made sense. And the more he thought on it, the less sense it made. 

“Charlotte, you must know I intend to marry your sister.” 

Hell, she’d been his staunchest champion in that fight and she’d begged him not to give up when Catherine had walked away from him. He had no doubt that come tomorrow if not sooner, she’d regret her uncharacteristic outburst. She would thank him for not allowing a moment of weakness to put an untenable strain on their friendship and a detrimental one on her marriage. 

“But you wanted to marry me first.” She slapped her palm over her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at him. “Forgive me. I don’t know what has gotten into me.” 

Although subtle, Lucas picked up the accusatory note in her voice, which left him reeling. 

She shot another look up at him from under her lashes and where he’d have thought to see confusion and contrition, he glimpsed something else. Something unsettling. 

“Yes but you know better than anyone the reasons for that proposal.” Lucas watched her intently as he tried to put his finger on what was so patently wrong with what she was saying, how she was acting. 

Eyes downcast, Charlotte let out a heavy sigh and nodded, her slender shoulders slumping in defeat. Or resigned to a future with a husband, whom at the moment, she said she did not want. 

Said she did not want.
 

It was those words that gave him pause and had his mind racing. Never once had her actions ever shown that statement to be true. Before these last few incredulous minutes, if there was one thing he could have said of Charlotte was that her love for her husband was a fortress and nothing and no one could shake its foundations or penetrate its walls. It was fortified by a passion and devotion so strong and so deep it had survived five years of separation spanning over three thousand miles of distance. She was not the kind of woman to cuckold her husband, to risk alienation from the two children she loved with her whole heart, to jeopardize the good name of her family or cause injury and suffering to the sister she dearly loved. That was not the Charlotte he knew. 

Then like an explosion, clarity jolted him from his feet, the blast affecting all of his senses, particularly that of the vision and olfactory. It was only then, amidst the wreckage of the debris and destruction it caused that he saw the differences, when at first he saw none. 

There, well hidden beneath the manner of her dress, her graceful gait and dulcet tones, was a woman capable of hitherto unimaginable deceit. A woman he could now see all too well. 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE
 

H
e loved her.

Catherine could barely contain her relief. And joy. And utter happiness. But she did the best she could to do just that. One slip and everything she’d worked for would be undone. 

He loved her and not Charlotte. She hadn’t dared permit herself to imagine what it would feel like to know his love for her was real and not some reflection of that love. 

“Please forgive me, Lucas. I should never have said anything to you. You’re correct when you said the birth of my daughter must have me feeling such melancholy.” Her sister had been quite emotional during her pregnancy, bursting into tears for no apparent reason at all. 

Catherine had been trying not to look him in the eye too much. She’d learned he was a man who saw too much. But when he didn’t speak, she raised her gaze to his and wondered at his silence. 

The tenderness that had so recently softened his features was gone. Instead, his expression was curiously enigmatic as he regarded her steadily. Unwaveringly. A frisson of apprehension coursed through her, raising gooseflesh on her arms. She wrapped her dressing robe tighter about her person fully conscious of the thinness of her nightclothes.