Never Kneel to a Knight

by Regina Scott

  “Back so soon? Where is your ungrateful sister? She was supposed to bring back my Petunia.”

  “I have no ungrateful sisters,” he told her, stepping into the room. “I have no patience either. When you’ve finished eating, you’re leaving. And you won’t be coming back.”

  She leaned away from the table and sucked her teeth a moment, watching him. “That so?” she finally said. She thumped on the table and raised her voice. “Ho, girl! Where’s that cake you promised?”

  He’d have to apologize to Anna for such treatment. Only it wasn’t the grey-haired maid who backed through the servant’s door swathed in an apron.

  It was Ivy.

  Matthew strode around the table and took the tray from her hands. His anger must be showing on his face, for his sister recoiled from him, eyes widening.

  “It’s all right, Ivy,” he told her. “I’m not angry at you.”

  She lay a hand on his arm. “Don’t be the Beast.”

  He wanted to recoil himself at the reminder. “Would you blame me if I was?”

  Her smile was sad. She’d blame him. He’d likely blame himself. Yet how else did a man react to such treatment? Wasn’t he to protect what was his?

  Mrs. Bateman whapped her hand on the table. “If you two are done, I want my cake.”

  If he hadn’t been wearing gloves his knuckles would be showing white. He carried the tray holding the plate with a generous slice of cake—the last of his celebration cake—and set it down in front of her. As she reached for the cake, he leaned closer, catching the cloying scent of gardenias.

  “You will not see Petunia,” he said, voice low and hard. “And you will not mistreat Ivy, Daisy, or any of my staff.”

  “Your staff?” She laughed as she lifted the plate off the tray. “You wouldn’t have this house or staff or a fancy sponsor for your sisters if it wasn’t for me.”

  Matthew shook his head, straightening. “I earned every penny on my own.”

  She lifted a forkful of cake and raised it to him in toast. “Oh, aye, after I pushed you. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything if it wasn’t for me. You owe me. That’s why you’re going to let me see Petunia.”

  “I owe you nothing.”

  She swallowed her bite of cake before answering. “As you say. But you’ll change your tune soon enough. What would your new friends think if they knew about your father?”

  Now, that was a juicy scandal—a knight of the realm whose father had fallen into a ditch drunk and frozen to death by morning. No doubt the prince would regret honoring him. Could His Royal Highness take back the title? Did Matthew care if he did?

  She was watching him. He knew the look. Searching for vulnerabilities, weak spots to hit him next. He smiled, and she frowned.

  “Do your worst,” he said. “I’ve been down before, and no doubt will be again.”

  “No doubt,” she drawled. “And you’re selfish enough to take your sisters down with you.”

  Fear tried to worm its way into his confidence. He shoved it back. “Whatever happens can be no worse than living with you.”

  She flamed. “Guttersnipe! You’ll never be good for anything.”

  “Finish your cake,” Matthew said. “I plan to escort you to the door.” He turned for the corridor.

  The glass hit hard, thudding against his shoulder before falling to the floor and shattering. The room was turning as red as it had when he’d learned Charlotte had been hurt trying to protect his sisters, the way the skies had darkened when Cassidy had taunted him in their fight that Matthew came from weak stock. His hands balled into fists. Every fiber of his being demanded that he pay back pain for pain.

  “That’s right,” she jeered. “Do nothing, just like your father. It figures he’d sire a son like you.”

  His father had started drinking to escape the pain from an injury at the mill. He’d continued drinking to escape the harridan he’d married. Matthew had chosen another outlet—fighting. That didn’t make him like his father. He wasn’t the Beast of Birmingham. He could have purpose in this world. Charlotte had taught him that.

  He was a knight of the realm, a man who, by God’s grace, might someday be worthy of her hand.

  “Finish your cake, madam,” he said, relaxing his fingers. “It will be the last thing you take from my family.”

  ~~~

  Matthew came to fetch them home the very next day. Funny how even Charlotte had begun to think of the house off Covent Garden as home. She smiled at the brick façade as she stepped down from the coach.

  “And she’s really gone?” Daisy asked as they followed Matthew to the door.

  “Gone and good riddance,” he said, brown coat flexing as he held the door open for them.

  Petunia scrunched up her face as she tugged Rufus up the stairs. “How much did you have to pay her?”

  Charlotte stopped in the entry hall.

  “Better ask how hard did he have to hit her,” Daisy said with a laugh.

  “That,” Charlotte said, “is quite enough.”

  She wasn’t sure who was redder, Matthew or Daisy. His sister tossed her head. “Even a gentleman would protect his family.”

  “A gentleman doesn’t need to resort to fisticuffs,” Charlotte maintained.

  Matthew eyed her. “That sure of me, are you?”

  In truth, she had woken more than once last night, wondering. But seeing him, eyes clear, mouth hinting of a smile, she could not doubt.

  “Yes,” she said, chin up. “I am.”

  His smile appeared, bathing her in warmth. “It was a near-run thing, but you’re right. In the end, she left with no need for me to raise my voice, or my fists.”

  Charlotte beamed at him.

  He stood for a moment, as if basking in her approval. Then he collected himself and bent to take Rufus from Petunia. “Best you go to your lessons now.”

  Petunia watched as he ushered the hound up the stairs, then she turned to Daisy. “He likes Miss Worthington.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks were heating, but Daisy shrugged. “I figured that out days ago.”

  “Your brother and I have the utmost respect for each other,” Charlotte said. “Nothing more.”

  Daisy snorted. “Says you.”

  She would not continue this line of conversation. “Where is Ivy? We need to discuss strategy.”

  Somehow, she managed to gather all three girls in the withdrawing room a short time later.

  “I expect invitations any day,” she told them, moving about the room to straighten a chair, realign a miniature on the mantel. “In the meantime, I’m trying to decide on an appropriate outing that would continue to advance your position among the ton. The British Museum, perhaps, if we could be assured of a day when other luminaries were visiting.”

  “What about something more exciting?” Daisy asked, shifting on one of the gilded chairs. “I heard Vauxhall can be fun, particularly after dark.” She looked to her older sister as if for approval.

  Ivy frowned, rubbing a hand along the arm of the chair she’d taken. “I’m not sure who told you that, Daisy.”

  “Sir William,” Daisy answered. “When we were standing out at the ball. He made it sound lovely.”

  The Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens were an interesting diversion. Their beautiful landscapes served as a backdrop to dances, cold collations, and fireworks, but they were also a place for lovers to meet in anonymity after dark. Chaperones had to be careful that their charges were not led astray. She and her charges had worked too hard to jeopardize Ivy and Daisy’s reputations now.

  “I’ll find out the hours for the British Museum,” Charlotte said.

  Daisy pouted.

  Ivy, who had been pale and quiet for most of the discussion, followed Charlotte out into the entry as her sisters headed for their rooms to change. The oldest girl’s face was sagging with her shoulders, as though she’d been through a great deal.

  “Thank you, Miss Worthington, for protecting my sisters yesterday,” she murmured
.

  “It seems they didn’t need much protecting after all,” Charlotte demurred. “Everything turned out well.”

  “Oh, I can assure you your help was very much needed.” Ivy shuddered. “Mrs. Bateman can be demanding, and she’s not adverse to using force to achieve her ends. Matthew found that out the hard way.”

  Charlotte stared at her. “Are you saying your stepmother struck your brother?”

  Ivy leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I think she threw a glass at him. I found him cleaning it up after she left. But he didn’t strike back. He was a gentleman, just like you taught us to expect.”

  She lay a hand on Ivy’s arm. “Oh, Ivy, I’m so glad. What provocation! Yet he held strong. I always knew he had it in him.”

  Ivy smiled. “Me, too.”

  Charlotte glanced up the stairs. “He doesn’t need more coaching, but perhaps I should speak to him, tell him our plans.”

  Ivy nodded, and Charlotte picked up her grey skirts to climb the stairs.

  He was standing in the study, two chairs pulled up to the fire, as if he had been expecting her. He waited to sit until she took the chair across from him.

  “What lessons do you have for me today?” he asked.

  “None,” Charlotte assured him. “By all accounts, you are in every way a gentleman.”

  “Perhaps not yet,” he allowed, “but I’m trying.”

  Charlotte cocked her head. “In what way have you failed?”

  “Should I list them all?” He held up his fingers and dropped each in turn. “I’m practicing to fight before half the fellows of the ton while the other half wagers against me. I still prefer a neckcloth to a cravat. And I don’t have a valet.”

  “Minor matters,” Charlotte said with a wave of her hand.

  He dropped his hand. “Even the fight?”

  She cocked her head. “If I said no, would you call it off?”

  He shook his head, but she thought he looked regretful. “I can’t. Word of honor.”

  “See?” she prompted. “Only a gentleman would worry about his honor.”

  “Not true,” he insisted. “Any real man wants to be known as honorable. Though sometimes I question my honor.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Why? You are in all ways to be admired.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what’s on my mind right now.”

  He had to be teasing her. That look was back in his deep, brown eyes.

  “You’ll only know if you tell me,” she replied.

  Still he watched her. “I’m wondering what it would be like to kiss you.”

  My, but it was hot by the fire. Charlotte rose, to go where, she wasn’t sure. He stood as well, once more still. Waiting for her to tell him he had fallen in her estimation. The words bubbled up before she could stop them.

  “I wonder the same thing about you,” she said.

  He moved closer, giving her every opportunity to step back, to protest. She did neither. He bent his head and kissed her.

  His lips were warm and solid, much like the man. Yet there was a gentleness, a sweetness that filled her, leaving her longing for more. She had to stop herself from wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer.

  He stepped back, watching her once again.

  “Well,” Charlotte said, “at least neither of us has to wonder anymore.”

  He smiled, and she only wanted to kiss him again. But that wasn’t appropriate. None of this was appropriate. Why couldn’t she make herself leave?

  “I would say that a lady only entertains a kiss from a gentleman if she has feelings for him,” he ventured.

  “And a gentleman who kisses a lady ought to have feelings for her,” Charlotte countered.

  He nodded. “Reasonable assumption.”

  Her heart started beating faster, as if it would transfer itself from her chest to his pocket, as if it wasn’t already there. “What do you suggest, sir?”

  He stuck out his lower lip as if considering the matter. “Perhaps we should try that kiss again, just to be certain.”

  Oh, no. She was already far too certain. She would not, could not, be in love with Sir Matthew Bateman. It broke the rules. It meant giving up parts of her life.

  It meant risking her heart again.

  Charlotte managed to force her feet to move, backing for the door. “Perhaps we should each consider our motivations, our purpose. I’ll return on Thursday. We can discuss the matter then.”

  When perhaps she had come to her senses.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He’d been struck mad.

  It was the only explanation for his behavior that afternoon. He’d known a few fellows to reel after a blow to the head. He rather thought this was a blow to the heart.

  He’d kissed Charlotte Worthington. And she’d let him.

  He wasn’t sure why he’d taken the chance. Why she’d stayed beyond a moment. Leaving him with one question: what was he to do now?

  He pondered the matter as he practiced in the rear yard, Rufus snuffling about. The bags of dirt Tuny had filled for him to lift didn’t feel nearly as heavy as his thoughts.

  Charlotte was right. A gentleman didn’t kiss a lady without expectations being raised. He didn’t need a lesson from her to know that.

  “And what have I to offer her, eh?” he demanded of the hound, dropping the bag onto the rocky soil. “A knighthood too new to matter and already questioned by most. A past of violence and regret. A future about to be marred by the scandal of this fight.”

  Rufus sat on his haunches, tongue lolling. Matthew scratched him behind one ear.

  He was mad to have kissed her, madder to hope the kiss had made any difference in how she felt about him. He was still the man her brother had hired as bodyguard. She was still the daughter of a viscount. His knighthood had given him a stature he’d never had before, but it was still a step down for Charlotte to associate with him, much less marry him.

  He’d agreed to hire her to help his sisters. That’s where he should focus. He’d behave like a true gentleman, ignore this kiss, ignore his feelings. Stiff upper lip and all that.

  He truly was mad to think that might work.

  ~~~

  By dinner with Meredith and Fortune, Charlotte still had not composed herself. She’d encouraged Matthew to kiss her, had gloried in the feel of his lips against hers. She’d been lecturing his sisters on what it meant to be a lady and thrown all claims to ladyhood to the winds.

  And she couldn’t regret one moment of it.

  “And so the dragon has been vanquished,” Meredith said, selecting a Yorkshire pudding from the linen-lined Sevres bowl beside her plate.

  “Mrs. Bateman has left,” Charlotte agreed, trying to decide on whether to try the roast beef or the potatoes first. “Order has been restored.” At least, within the household.

  “Then you are making progress with your charges?” her friend asked as a soft body wound its way past Charlotte’s ankles.

  “Reasonable progress,” Charlotte allowed. “Daisy disagrees with me on occasion, but Ivy is all I could ask for in a pupil. She listens to everything I say and puts it into practice, and with such natural grace you would think she’d been to the manor born. If we can overcome her shyness, she will make her mark.”

  Meredith nodded as if equally impressed. “And Sir Matthew?” she asked, reaching for her goblet.

  Is warm, kind, and considerate. Makes me feel clever, beautiful, cherished.

  “Appears to have mastered his new role,” Charlotte made herself say.

  Meredith set down her goblet. “Yet you are unhappy.”

  Charlotte straightened. “Unhappy? Certainly not. Why would you suggest that?”

  Beneath her, Fortune batted at her ankle as if chiding her for the half-truth.

  “Because you have pushed those potatoes around on your plate and now flattened them,” Meredith said, pausing to take a bite of her own potatoes.

  Charlotte stared at the tell-tale smear, then lay her
fork down with a sigh. “I’m not unhappy, Meredith. Truly. It’s a pleasure to see Sir Matthew and his sisters do well.”

  “But?” Meredith encouraged.

  Charlotte sighed again. “But I begin to question my role in their household.”

  Fortune pranced out from under the table, head cocked as if considering whether anyone would allow her to jump up near the food and for how long.

  Meredith lay down her fork as well and affixed first Fortune and then Charlotte with her lavender gaze.

  “Your role is to help Sir Matthew and his sisters accustom themselves to their elevation. If they insist on anything less, I will remove you immediately.”

  “Not less,” Charlotte hurried to assure her. “But perhaps more.”

  Meredith’s eyes narrowed. “How much more?”

  Fortune took the chance. She leaped up onto the table and flicked her tail over Charlotte’s plate as if blessing it. Meredith picked her up and deposited her on the floor.

  Charlotte could prevaricate further. Fortune had made an effective break in the conversation, after all. Yet perhaps it was best simply to have done.

  “I allowed Sir Matthew to kiss me,” Charlotte confessed. Just saying the words aloud eased the pressure in her chest.

  Meredith’s generous mouth quirked. “I take it this was not for the purpose of demonstration.”

  Charlotte laughed. “No. Not in the slightest.”

  “I see.” She picked up her fork and continued eating.

  What did she see? What had Charlotte betrayed? She shifted on the chair and felt Fortune shoot past her again.

  “It wasn’t entirely improper,” she told Meredith. “The door was open, the girls just downstairs.”

  “Of course,” Meredith allowed.

  “It was only once and not for very long.” Not long enough.

  “Certainly.”

  “I doubt it will happen again.”

  Meredith raised a raven brow. “Do you?”

  “No.” Charlotte blew out a breath. “I fear it could happen again all too easily. I have admired Sir Matthew for some time.”

  “And you are concerned this admiration might turn into something more,” Meredith said, as if stating a great truth.