A Kiss With Scandal (Scandals & Secrets 4)

by Janelle Daniels

  “Yes.”

  He set her away from him in degrees, testing her ability to stand. When he was certain she wouldn’t faint, he took her hand. “Don’t let go of me for any reason until we’re outside with others.”

  His senses remained heightened, filtering every sound, evaluating threats. Every dark room, every dim corridor held a possible assailant.

  He led her through a side door, and they both sucked in gulps of fresh air. Cries sounded around the house as people searched for loved ones. No flames were visible from the outside of the residence, but smoke still permeated the air.

  “Are you well?” he asked again.

  “I will be.”

  Her sheet-white cheeks were gaining some color, which relieved him, and her eyes cleared. She would survive this. He knew she would.

  Unable to stop himself, he cupped her face, stroking a thumb over her cold cheeks. Her eyes darted to his, questioning, but he didn’t answer at first, allowing the moment to continue. “Do you know where your family will be?”

  “No, but they’d never leave me.”

  No. They wouldn’t. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to leave without her. He certainly couldn’t walk away from this woman, his wo—

  He reeled back. He couldn’t afford such thoughts. His desire was a distraction, a distraction he couldn’t afford if he planned to keep her alive.

  “Let’s find them.” He gestured for her to lead. It wouldn’t be proper to hold her hand now that they were outside and others would see them. Even with a fire, he must appear completely in line with societal standards.

  “What will happen now?” she asked, without turning toward him. “They know who I am.”

  “I will make sure your house is secure for the night. My men will guard you. You don’t need to worry. They may know who you are, but they won’t get to you. And tomorrow, we’ll be gone.”

  She didn’t answer, just made her way down the garden path. She paused, her posture seeming to wilt. “I wish we could leave now. I cannot bear the thought—”

  “Charlotte!” Charlotte’s mother, Lady Langston, cried, running to her once she exited the enclosed space. “Philip! Philip, she’s here!”

  Charlotte stifled a cry as her mother embraced her.

  “Are you all right? We couldn’t find you inside.” Her mother worried over her as she searched her daughter’s form.

  “Yes. Viscount Lawrence was good enough to escort me to safety.”

  Charlotte’s mother blinked, only just noticing him. “My lord. I cannot thank you enough.”

  “No. No. It was my honor.” Derek nodded to Viscount Langston as he approached. “And if you’ll allow me, I’ll see you home.”

  “That is very kind.” The viscountess nodded to her husband. “I don’t want to stay a moment longer.”

  “I’ll notify the carriage, but it might take a while in this madness.”

  “My carriage awaits. It can take us directly.”

  Viscount Langston agreed. “Yes, indeed. Thank you.”

  Derek led them through the chaos of guests and loaded the harried family into the coach and instructed George to the Langston residence.

  Hopefully there’d been enough time for his men to scour the premises. Derek had no intention of leaving until he knew Charlotte was secure.

  So help him, he wouldn’t rest until she was safe.

  Chapter 8

  Charlotte peeked through her lace curtain for a tenth time. Derek had promised men watched the house, but she saw no one.

  Her gut twisted. What if something had happened to them? What if someone had killed them and was already in her home, making his way to her? To finish the job the man at the ball had failed to do.

  She fingered the pinprick from his knife on her throat. She almost died. She would have died tonight if not for Derek.

  Had she truly wanted adventure? The dull life she’d despised seemed desirable now.

  She’d been safe. How she’d give anything to return to that safety now.

  She pushed away from the window. She had to stop this. His men were out there. If they’d been hurt, she would have heard something—a scream, a breaking window, a dog barking. Anything.

  She needed rest.

  She flopped into bed, yanked the covers up, and stilled when she heard a creaking board down the hall. Her muscles tensed. No one should be up at this hour. The last servant had retired an hour ago, and her parents long before that.

  She held her breath.

  Another squeak.

  Her eyes widened as she slipped from her bed, twirling around, desperately searching for a weapon. Neither servants nor her parents would skulk in the hallway.

  Should she scream? Wake someone in the household?

  She gripped her hand around a brass candlestick, the cold metal chilling her as much as her fear. Screaming would only endanger others.

  Her heart hammered as she held the weapon aloft. Trembling. Waiting.

  Her knob turned slowly. The door cracked open on well-oiled hinges.

  Derek’s eyes connected with hers before she could clobber him.

  Breath whooshed from her lungs as her arm sagged, dropping the candlestick with a soft thump to the thick rug. “What are you doing here? I thought you were about to murder me in my bed.” Her adrenaline tanked, leaving her drained.

  He came in the rest of the way, checking the hall before securing the door. “Why wasn’t this locked?”

  She glanced at the knob as if it were a foreign object. “I never lock it.”

  “Tonight, you’ll keep it locked.”

  “All right. But you still haven’t answered my question.” Aware of the pitch of their voices, she whispered, “What are you doing here?”

  He scanned her in her nightdress, seeming to finally notice her state of undress. His attention darted away. It didn’t matter though. Her body tingled everywhere his gaze caressed.

  “I came to check on you to make sure you were all right.”

  He didn’t look in her direction. In fact, his eyes seemed to be going everywhere except on her. She should appreciate his gentlemanly behavior, but oddly, found it frustrating. “I’m well. Did something happen?”

  Derek walked to the window, parted the drapes a sliver, and looked out at the street below. “Someone almost got through.”

  “Oh.” Her stomach rolled. “But your men caught him?”

  Several long seconds past, and she nearly repeated herself. She couldn’t bear waiting, knowing he’d only delay answering if he feared her reaction.

  Finally, he corrected the curtains and turned to her, his eyes grim. “Charlotte, two dozen men guard your house. They’re highly trained, capable soldiers. They’ll do their best, but in case anyone gets through, you can’t be alone.”

  “I see.” Charlotte swallowed repeatedly, afraid she might be sick. She saw quite clearly. He didn’t expect just one intruder.

  He crossed the fireplace, his form backlit by glowing embers. “I’ll stay here tonight.”

  Her eyes widened. “In… here?”

  He nodded once.

  “But what will happen? My maid will refresh the fire at sunrise.” Charlotte frowned. “How did you get inside the house without anyone seeing you? Did you pick the lock?”

  He folded his arms and leaned against the mantle. “I’m a spy. Remember?”

  “Do you do this all the time?”

  “More often than not.”

  Charlotte absorbed his answer. What kind of life had he led where breaking into houses was a common occurrence? Where fighting off thugs in the streets and arresting murderers was everyday business? And how had no one guessed? After all of these years, after all the times she’d seen him, watched him, she hadn’t known about his secret life. She certainly hadn’t heard any gossip of the sort.

  But then Charlotte remembered snippets from the past. Notes delivered to him during musicals, his servants informing him that his businesses needed immediate attention. His ventures w
ere successful. It was obvious from the wealth he’d accumulated that those ventures weren’t what pulled him away at all hours of the day.

  His job for the crown did. At least she hoped he spied for the crown. “For whom, exactly, do you spy?”

  A hint of a smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “The queen. I’m employed by the War Office.”

  “How long have you been a spy?”

  “Ten years.”

  Charlotte choked. Ten years! “How did you get involved?”

  He smiled ruefully. “It was more like I got pulled into it. During my last year at Eton, one of my professors approached me with a small task. He needed me to decode a letter from a book found in the university’s library. Doing it himself would draw too much attention. So being young and intrigued, or stupid as the case may be, I agreed. A month later there was another letter. Then another. Soon enough, I was fully entrenched with other tasks as well as my decoding work.”

  “You were so young.” Her mind still couldn’t wrap around how long he’d been involved in such danger.

  “Others were younger.” He settled into one of the chairs by the fire. “Try to rest. I’ll be here all night. You’re safe.”

  “But the maid…” she trailed off as the weight of exhaustion collapsed on her. It wasn’t rational, but now that he was here, she felt protected. She could sleep. Her body sagged with relief.

  Still dressed in formal attire, he yanked at his cravat. “She’ll never know I was here.”

  Sinking into the mattress, she pulled the covers high, welcoming the blissful blankness that had eluded her. “Thank you.”

  She drew a deep breath and sighed.

  The rustle of fine fabric comforted her. Something so simple, and yet so foreign to her. Nothing could compete with the protection she felt from his mere presence.

  Unfortunately, a lady could become accustomed to his continued presence.

  To him.

  * * *

  Charlotte didn’t wake again until Rosie stirred the fire. She yawned, feeling more rested than she had in a week, and stretched. Until she remembered last night, and who’d stayed with her throughout the dark hours. She jolted up in bed.

  “I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the willowy maid said.

  Charlotte’s gaze darted around the room, but saw no trace of Derek. She frowned. Had she imagined him? “It’s all right, Rosie. Just a rough night, I guess.”

  “I would say so. You must be exhausted. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  How could they have known about the attacks? Had a servant been awake and seen something? “They have?”

  “Absolutely. A house fire is a scary situation.”

  “Of course.” Charlotte wanted to kick herself. She smoothed a wrinkle from the powder blue counterpane. “How bad was it?”

  “The damage was minor. And there were no injuries except a twisted ankle, thankfully.”

  “That is good news.” It could have been much worse than that. House fires quickly escalate out of control. Plus, with a crowd that size, anything was possible.

  “Good morning, dear.” Her mother breezed into the room in a sapphire wrapper that perfectly matched her eyes and bent over the bed to hug Charlotte. “I’m glad to see you look slightly recovered this morning. Heavens, what a night.”

  Charlotte murmured her agreement.

  “First with Viscount Lawrence and then the fire, I was worried you might not sleep.”

  At her mention of Derek, Charlotte’s brows drew together. “I managed,” she said, but glanced around the room. Where had he gone? Had he actually stayed all night like he’d said?

  Her eyes widened when something, or someone, bumped her mattress from beneath. “Ahh. How did you sleep, Mama?” she blurted out, hoping to cover any noise.

  “Terribly. The smoke affected your father’s breathing.” At Charlotte’s concerned look, her mother waved her hand. “It was nothing to worry over. He is fully recovered.”

  Charlotte’s shoulders sagged in relief.

  Her mother sat on the edge of her bed. “I wanted to talk to you this morning about Viscount Lawrence.”

  Charlotte stilled. “Oh?” Oh no was more like it. Any conversation her mother wanted to have about Derek was a bad idea when that same person hid under her bed. “What is there to talk about?”

  “Well, plenty. I had no idea he’d taken a fancy to you.”

  Her skin flushed. “Well, I wasn’t sure if he had. I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain.”

  “I would say this is certain. Two dances? I thought the room would expire.”

  Charlotte only wished she could have enjoyed it more.

  “He must intend to propose immediately if he threw this house party together in such short time. Things are serious, indeed.”

  Charlotte took her mother’s hand. “Mama, I don’t want you to get too worked up over this. Nothing may come of the viscount and me. To be honest, I don’t know if my feelings are completely there.”

  Her mother snorted. “Charlotte, I still remember you declaring at your come out that the only man you cared to dance with was him. I swear you were half in love with him before you entered society.”

  Charlotte’s eyes shuddered. Was it possible Derek had temporarily gone deaf? “I don’t remember any such thing.”

  Her mother chuckled. “Well, I do, dear. It lasted much longer than that night, and after seeing the two of you together last night, I have a feeling it never quite went away.”

  Sugar lumps. Why, in the singular conversation Derek overhears, did her mother have to mention her girlhood infatuation?

  “It’ll be all right, dear. You don’t have to make any decisions while we’re there. But I just wanted you to know your father and I approve of the match, if it’s what you wish.” She kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “We’ll depart in a couple hours after our trunks are loaded.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  Her mother left the room with Rosie, closing the door to silence.

  Charlotte didn’t dare speak. She couldn’t. What was there to say?

  Derek shuffled under the bed, emerging head first from the dusty depths. He brushed his coat off, but didn’t meet her eye. It was considerate of him, but it didn’t lessen her humiliation.

  She moaned. “Please tell me you weren’t listening to that.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I told you I wasn’t?”

  “Only if it were the truth.”

  When his gaze slowly met hers, her breath stilled. Something heated in the depths of his eyes sparked warmth within her.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, shaking his head. “I don’t want to lie to you. There’s been too many lies in my life. I can’t do it anymore. Not to you.”

  He seemed torn. Torn with how he should handle the situation. Was he as embarrassed as she? Or was it something else?

  “Look,” she said, “we don’t have to discuss this, all right? We’ll pretend my mother didn’t come in here and say any of that. You’re doing your job. That’s why you’re here. It doesn’t have to be anything more.”

  She held her breath, awaiting his answer. The air was thick, and whatever was said in this moment would set the tone between.

  He raked a hand through his hair as he paced the room. “Charlotte, it’s not that. Things are complicated.”

  She held up her hand. “You needn’t explain. As I’ve already said, I know what this is. There’s no need for more.” She smoothed the blanket, proud of her control when she felt tied up inside. “Now, how will we get you out of here?”

  “Let me worry about that. You focus on packing what you need. I don’t know how long we’ll have to stay there, but I’m hoping we’ll capture them soon. My men will continue to watch the house and inform me once you leave for my estate. I will follow you and conveniently run into you at the first posting inn, suggesting I join your party.”

  “You’ve thought of it all.”
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  “’Tis my duty.”

  Of course it was. He was honorable, strong, and capable. Those qualities had always drawn her to him. Probably always would.

  After his hesitancy just now, she’d be a fool to dream there might be more between them.

  And she hated being a fool.

  Chapter 9

  Returning to his estate failed to produce the joyous sensations others experienced when retiring to their countryseat. Full of painful memories, Derek was just starting to tolerate coming back.

  The trip had been uneventful. With Charlotte tucked into one of the guest suites, he was assured his staff, trained for much more than household duties, would keep her well protected. And if that failed, any person who entered her rooms would be greeted by a high-pitched barking, white fluff ball. He still wasn’t convinced the creature was a dog, but he had no desire to get close enough to the animal to find out for certain.

  The animal had been sleeping in another room last night. Thankfully. The pup could have caused significant problems.

  Henry entered the imposing study, and Derek nodded in greeting. His father had ruled the house with an iron fist, and this had been his throne room. The dark paneling and towering brick fireplace were meant to intimidate. Derek hated the space and the memories it held as much as he despised his father. “I’m sorry for the wait.”

  “It’s no trouble.” The man shifted comfortably in the oversize leather chair.

  Some in his household disapproved of Henry when they learned of his past life in crime, but Derek hadn’t cared. Henry had saved his life on more than one occasion, and when the man said he wanted to straighten out, Derek gave him the chance he needed to live an honest life.

  Henry wasn’t opposed to doing anything Derek needed done.

  Derek seated himself behind the massive cherry wood desk, ready for Henry’s report. “All protective measures are in place, I presume?”

  “Guards are stationed at all check points, and the staff has been notified. The alert system has been tested and is functioning properly. Escape routes have been double checked, and safe houses have been stocked should the need arise.”