London's Best Kept Secret

by Anabelle Bryant

  “One moment.” He glanced in the direction of the bed, and Charlotte’s eyes strayed in the same fashion. They were of one mind despite that she walked toward the large four-poster as he turned to the door.

  He kept his conversation with Hudson brief and waved away Charlotte’s immediate inquiry before he gathered her in his arms, flush against his body, too tired from waiting to answer any more questions. That situation, the visitor downstairs in the drawing room, would resolve itself when he decided, disinclined to tolerate another interruption, having stood in his own way long enough.

  He lowered his mouth to hers and lost himself in their kiss. She tasted fresh, his lovely wife, and just as he imagined all those many times he’d wished to sweep her off the piano bench and into his arms.

  And willing. Charlotte, who he’d assumed would shun him a dozen times over, melted gracefully into his arms. He’d forced himself to overcome hurdle after hurdle—shyness, guilt, self-recrimination—and now, though those same feelings lurked at the ready to remind him of past misdeeds, he ignored their threat and embraced his deepest desire.

  The room fell silent, as if she divined his thoughts. The slow crackle of the dissolving fire the only noise aside from their breathing. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against the top of her head, a few soft strands of hair caught to remind him of an unfinished task.

  With gentle persistence, he removed the remaining pins and unwove her braids until her hair spilled about her shoulders. Long ribbons of golden brown fell to her tiny waist, just as she’d suggested. He threaded his fingers through twice, awed and at the same time anxious, his eyes searching her face for any sign of objection.

  Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes sparkled, alert and clear, and he caught her mouth again, his tongue licking into her heat as his hands worked the buttons down the line of her back. Much to his pleasure, she arched against him, impatient and eager. Bloody hell, the constrained passion would cause his heart to stop before he barely began if he did not temper himself.

  With a swift fold of fabric, he lowered her bodice to bare one creamy shoulder and smoothed his palm across her breast, hidden beneath layers of silk, though he swore her heat singed him. The tight peak of her nipple scored his palm, traced a line to pulse directly to his groin, where his erection, hard and hot against the falls of his trousers, demanded he move faster.

  He exhaled, his breath encouraging gooseflesh against the pale delicacy of her skin before he chased it away with a series of kisses. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he nuzzled her neck, trailing affection across the length, aglow from the refracted lantern light.

  Lord, he’d waited so long. They both knew what they wanted and precisely where it led, and he was assured by that conclusion whenever his wife nestled closer. Lowering a strap, he untied two ribbons and removed yet another barrier. He wanted to taste her skin, feel the heated satin of her breast against his tongue. Damn if it wasn’t the same underclothes he’d yearned to see that he now hurriedly cast aside. All the while they stood in a locked embrace, kissing and not kissing as the situation offered opportunity, the bed a mere two strides away.

  How foolish not to take her there.

  He turned within their embrace, a waltz step modified by his own devise, and brought them aside the mattress. Her nervous flutter of realization urged him to smile, but he didn’t waste the time, his mouth otherwise employed.

  At last they sat, in a less-than-decorous movement that evoked her sudden gasp, the mattress buffeting them with softness as he carried her backward. From there he lost his train of thought completely.

  His wife lay atop his bed, her hair unraveled in waves of bronze and umber, stark in contrast to her ivory-smooth skin. One half of her bodice lie undone, her breasts pressed high and tight within her corset, as tempting and succulent as forbidden fruit. On the right side, where he’d fumbled his way through layers of silk and cotton, the dusky shadow of one areole was exposed. His prim and proper wife looked incredibly mussed, a temptress in his bed, and never more beautiful. He groaned with pleasure. His cock throbbed with want.

  Reclining beside her, he angled her chin and continued their kiss. Her eyes were closed, though the lashes fluttered, and she returned his attention by encircling his neck and pulling him over her. He skimmed his palm up her waist, over soft curves and linen, until he held the weight of her breast in his palm. He brushed his thumb over the tip, felt her shudder and surrender, before he released her mouth to taste her breast instead.

  She smelled like gardenias with a hint of lemon, an addictive scent, and he inhaled to keep her deep inside. Every stroke of his tongue over her breast caused a delicious tremor to ripple through her, and his mind sped away at how exquisite it would feel to finally bury himself in her delicious—

  A sturdy knock pounded on the door, and she froze beneath him. He carefully withdrew and grunted a curse as the sound came again.

  Christ.

  Didn’t Hudson value his position? His life, for that matter?

  “One moment,” he muttered by way of apology, though he seethed inside, passion quickly transformed into its counterpart, anger. Still he had to answer. The butler must have an imperative reason for disturbing him twice, didn’t he?

  “What is it?” Dearing’s hushed whisper was anything but quiet.

  “My apologies again, milord,” Hudson answered.

  “Yes, well, explain quickly.” He’d cracked the door a mere six inches, blocking the servant’s line of vision with his body, though Charlotte would likely have reassembled herself by now, attentive to what occurred at the door. He knew this much about his wife.

  “The lady belowstairs is distressed to a point of hysteria.” Hudson’s grave expression worsened. “Mrs. Hubbles offered tea and refreshments, but it met with refusal. I’m afraid the visitor will not leave until she speaks with Lady Dearing.”

  “Have you informed the visitor Lady Dearing and I are indisposed? It may be afternoon and calling hours, but that does not mean we’re receiving. She will need to call upon her sister another day.”

  “My sister?”

  The hair on the back of Dearing’s neck prickled with dread. He hadn’t heard Charlotte’s approach. She moved as silently as her hidden kitten. Yet one glance over his shoulder revealed she’d listened to the entire conversation. His blunder would not be easily explained.

  “Inform the lady we’ll be belowstairs shortly.” He closed the door and turned, all traces of their intimacy vanished. Charlotte’s hair was now gathered and secured in a knot at her neck, her dress refastened aside from a few flagging buttons that likely declared mutiny from the grievous look upon her face.

  “You knew my sister waited for me downstairs and you didn’t tell me?” Her tone inflected hurt and disbelief, her lovely blue eyes stricken with emotion.

  “I didn’t see any reason why she couldn’t wait a bit.”

  Voicing his inconsiderate lapse of judgment caused her lids to flare. “So then, this seduction was to be quickly done?” There was no mistaking what emotion held her now. “How selfish and thoughtless. I didn’t believe you so.”

  “Charlotte.” He stepped toward her, but she promptly moved beyond his reach. “You misunderstand.”

  “I couldn’t think otherwise.”

  “If I behaved selfishly it was because I wanted you in my arms. I’ve waited ten months—”

  “By your own admission, that was your doing.” She took two steps in an attempt to reach the door to the hall, but he blocked her passage.

  “I realize I should have told you straightaway, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. Charlotte, all I can think about is you. You consume my brain and chase away coherent logic. Now to have you in my bedchambers, in my bed, after kissing you senseless, I can offer no other excuse.”

  His sincerity had some effect on her, though he wasn’t sure to what extent. Her expression softened the tiniest bit, though her eyes still flashed sparks of anger.

  “We ag
reed in the park only a few hours ago that we would harbor no secrets.” Her words were spoken harshly, with a confused quality of hurt and anger that made his lie all the more unbearable.

  “Let’s agree to discuss this later, after your sister leaves,” he offered, in hope she would be mollified. “And I wasn’t keeping this a secret. Your sister only just arrived.”

  This met with a sharp glare that might have communicated a number of things, until she spoke. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “You will.” A lick of frustration made his words a challenge. This was ludicrous. A few moments ago, they were atop the bed in each other’s arms.

  “I doubt that.” She shook her head, and with a breath of disappointment or some other equally dissatisfied emotion, pivoted on her heel and made good use of the adjoining door, slamming it as she left him alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte hurried downstairs toward Hudson, who stood sentry at the entrance of the drawing room. “You have a caller, milady.”

  Hudson was a tall, likable servant well in to his sixtieth year. His eyes were kind, his appearance pristine, his demeanor beyond efficient, though Charlotte had the distinct impression he wondered at the odd circumstances surrounding her sudden marriage to the master of the house. It wouldn’t do to question a member of the staff concerning Dearing’s history, and yet Charlotte remained more tempted than she’d ever admit. Hudson undoubtedly knew everything there was to know about her husband or, at least, more than she’d yet garnered.

  “Has my sister waited long?” An unexpected tremble revealed the emotion in her question.

  Concern marred Hudson’s face in a mask of unease. “More than an hour, milady.”

  Alarm spurred Charlotte’s feet into motion. If one of her sisters had arrived unexpectedly at Dearing House, it could only signal trouble of the worst kind, and she’d distinctly heard Hudson tell Jeremy the visitor appeared overset. Anger toward Dearing’s blithe dismissal was renewed in a heartbeat.

  Charlotte found her sister in the front drawing room. She’d hardly stepped over the threshold when Louisa whirled to face her, cheeks reddened from crying and hands tightly clasped. Her sister’s gray cloak appeared stark against the cream and violet interior, and a foreboding tremor of dread seeped into Charlotte’s bones.

  “What is it?” She closed the door and rushed to Louisa’s side. “Is everyone well? What’s brought you here?” She’d only visited the family a few days’ before, and planned to write to Mother now that Dearing had agreed a small dinner party was due. Instead, her sister stood before her with red-rimmed eyes and puffy lids in evidence of emotional distress.

  “Everyone is fine. Everyone but me. Promise me you won’t tell a soul.” Louisa shook her head vigorously, her curls swaying with the movement as her tears overflowed. “I don’t know what to do or where to go, but I’ll need your promise first, Charlotte.”

  “Of course.” She grasped her sister’s elbow and gently steered her to a chaise, where nearby a brazier of red coals burned in the hearth. Before Charlotte entered, she’d mentioned to Hudson that a tea tray and refreshments were needed. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before it arrived. Louisa appeared pale and deeply troubled, but warmth would not solve her problem, nor would tea. Once they settled, Charlotte waited. Her sister was already beside herself with turmoil; rushing her into an explanation would only worsen her condition.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Louisa twisted on the cushion, tears barely withheld. “I’m in trouble of the worst kind. I can’t tell Dinah or Bunny. Mother and Father will send me away. I’ll be alone through the worst experience of my life. All because I believed myself in love. I trusted him. I still do. But I don’t know anymore.”

  “Slowly. Everything will turn out right. Tell me what happened.” Charlotte sought to console her sister, though a strong wave of apprehension clogged her throat. It wasn’t difficult to unriddle what might cause a parent to send a daughter away from home.

  “Promise me first.”

  “Of course I promise.” Perhaps not the wisest of decisions. What if her initial assumption proved wrong and Louisa confessed something truly unfixable? Well, then, Charlotte would ask Dearing for his assistance. Once she remedied the circumstance within her own relationship, naturally. The thought brought with it a feeling of firm reassurance despite their quarrel abovestairs.

  “I’m—” Louisa’s face displayed horror, as if the words were unthinkable. “I’m with child.”

  Charlotte wasn’t prepared for the blunt admission, although some part of her had suspected Louisa’s carefree attitude would someday lead her astray. Her sister lived in the moment, unmindful of consequences or repercussions. In truth, Charlotte had already leaped to the same conclusion, but hearing the words spoken in the fraught quiet rattled her soul. She swallowed thoughtfully and digested the news. “Are you certain?” She struggled to maintain an even tone.

  How ironic her younger sister should explore physical relations when Charlotte’s own body remained chaste. And how would she ever assist Louisa? This transcended the bounds of requesting her husband’s help. This trespassed into a singular confidence, and a complicated one at that, when she’d only just demanded no secrets be kept. Still, she’d do anything to relieve the turmoil and doubt in Louisa’s eyes. Insecurity wouldn’t serve her sister well, no matter how the situation was resolved.

  “I’ve missed my flux the past two months.” These words came out infused with broken sobs and tears. “I’ve sacrificed my virtue and future for a man who no longer wishes to speak to me. He’s all but vanished from London. I haven’t seen or heard from him, no matter I’ve tried.”

  A knock at the door preceded Mrs. Hubbles, who entered with a maid trailing behind her. The tea tray was set on the table near the corner, and both servants reserved the propriety to silently set about their task and leave just as efficiently.

  “Shall I fetch your tea?” Charlotte grimaced at her foolish question. She drew Louisa into her embrace and offered the support needed while Louisa cried out her despair. She moved her sister’s hair aside to lightly stroke her back until the emotion abated.

  “Do you love him?” Charlotte asked the question, though she couldn’t imagine sharing one’s self without the emotional bond. It was why she needed desperately to breech the emotional chasm Dearing had created at the beginning of their marriage. Her heart and mind were too closely knit together.

  “He’s terribly dashing. I couldn’t believe he paid me the slightest mind.” Louisa sniffled and forced a weak smile as she withdrew from the embrace. “I’m not the sister who usually draws attention.”

  Her sister’s answer wasn’t exactly what it needed to be, but Charlotte didn’t press. Their situation was bitterly ironic: one sister in love and lacking the physical intimacy, while the other upset for having the opposite.

  “Why would you say such a thing?” Charlotte shook her head in the negative and squeezed her sister’s hands. “Any gentleman would be lucky to pay you mind.”

  “Well, he won’t even see me now.”

  Charlotte was surprised but, upon comprehension, reconsidered. Most rakehells denied their indiscretions when women were altered beyond repair. A soiled dove had no place in society. Unwed mothers were often sent to visit a relative, where the child could be born without social disgrace. And then, there was the shame. Her parents had feared the discovery of their impending fiscal ruin, aghast that anyone realized their finances were no longer secure. The family had hardly recovered from the threat of penury. Yet this humiliation was much worse. If Charlotte’s marriage had salvaged their reputation and ensured a future for her three sisters, Louisa’s actions had condemned the family with a scandal of worse proportion.

  “Does anyone else know about this?” Surely Dinah and Bunny would notice if Louisa behaved oddly.

  Louisa gave a confident nod. “No. I’ve kept my meetings private. No one knows anything beyond a few mornings when I’ve claimed of
a megrim or unexpected malaise.”

  “Are you sure?” Charlotte found it difficult to imagine her sister behaving so secretively. Maids talked, even if it didn’t extend beyond household chatter. “How did you manage to meet with this disreputable scoundrel?”

  “Please don’t judge him. He’s a good man. I must believe that true. He’s perhaps just as scared and panicked as I.” Fresh tears threatened, and Louisa wiped them away. “He probably needs time to think, although I would feel so much better if I could speak to him.”

  “So he’s aware his relations with you have resulted in this situation? A child?” She whispered the unspeakable words, somehow afraid to voice them aloud.

  “Yes. At least, I tried to tell him the last time we were together, but he left abruptly. I haven’t heard from him since, and I’m not sure if he understands what I attempted to say.” Louisa wiped her nose with a crumpled handkerchief and exhaled a sigh of forlorn sadness. “Aside from you, no one else knows, which makes it most difficult. But I had to tell someone. I feel wretched and frightened. I feel—” She broke off on another sob.

  “Sometimes love isn’t all it seems or what we believe it to be.” Louisa caught her eye, but Charlotte looked away and rushed on, the battle to maintain a calm note in her voice difficult. “I’m sorry you’ve found yourself in this situation, but we’ll solve your problem together.” She squeezed her sister’s hands in reassurance despite that Louisa’s partial answers were hardly helpful. “You can’t be sure there will be a child.”

  “I will soon enough.” A tense silence followed Louisa’s admittance. “What will I do? Thomas hasn’t spoken to me or sent a message. Everything has to be done so carefully, and yet I’m utterly alone in this. I need your help, Charlotte.”

  “And you have it. I give you my word.” Charlotte drew a deep breath. What could she do? How would she help? She couldn’t undo the clandestine tryst, but mayhap she could convince the gentleman to accept responsibility. Surely he must care for Louisa to have pursued her. A niggling voice inside her head reminded her that rogues cared little for anyone aside themselves, and so far this person had proved to be no gentleman. Yet Louisa objected when Charlotte labeled him as such. A marriage of necessity was not uncommon and, in a strange parallel, echoed her situation with Dearing. While not forced to salvage her family’s security, it followed that the act proved necessary to save their reputation.