London's Best Kept Secret

by Anabelle Bryant

  She gasped and her eyes flared, though she didn’t object. In fact, he admired her eagerness to please. Instead, she quickly adjusted her posture, flipped a length of long silky hair over her shoulder and pressed her hands against his chest in the position of someone who meant to ride.

  “I didn’t know this was possible.”

  Her quiet admission floated down to where he rested against the pillow, a man content in all ways. “We’ve only just begun to explore.”

  She rocked slightly, and he moaned.

  “Have I hurt you?”

  She leaned closer to his face and he groaned again, his cock hard and throbbing within her heat, every movement an excruciating stroke of pleasure/pain.

  “Not at all,” he gritted out before she sat up once again.

  “Do you like this?”

  She moved back and forth, a subtle rhythm that could only please her as much as him.

  “I do.”

  Who was this adventuresome seductress? It would seem he still had many things to learn about his wife.

  He allowed her to find her own way from there, words no longer necessary, and threw an arm above his head on the pillow before closing his eyes. How a fetching little slip of a woman could spin him out of control he had no way of explaining, but with every back-and-forth motion, he believed his world exploded and began again, all due to Charlotte’s tight grip and sweet caresses.

  His endurance ran the race along with her as he lifted his hips to match her thrusts forward. He buried himself deep inside her wet softness and forced himself to withhold climax until the torment became unbearable, his own body betraying his command.

  With one last joining, he slit his eyes, gripped her hips and held firm, buried to the hilt inside his wife as his entire body throbbed in release. She rocked forward, her muscles tight. Lengths of hair fell to skim his chest and heighten every sensation. Her breathy sighs whispered past his face. And then her mouth fell to his. She pressed her breasts to his heart and they lay spent in each other’s embrace.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The fire was reduced to embers, but Dearing dreaded leaving the bed to add a log to the box. Charlotte lie snuggled beside him, awake despite the late hour.

  “What is it?” Charlotte shifted to one elbow, her head turned to his as if she could read his mind, aware something troubled him.

  “Mallory.” It wasn’t right to allow the distasteful name a voice in his bedchambers. The lingering delight of their intimacy still laced the room and he didn’t wish to dismiss it.

  “Has he spread harmful rumors? Has he wronged us?”

  Clever. His wife was as intelligent as he. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

  “Lindsey believes he has and will continue to do so. Mallory wishes to paint our marriage as a failure to win an indulgent, albeit reckless wager. He’s desperate, no doubt, and likely with pockets to let. I suspect he’s after the money to be gained by sale of a specific stock certificate as well.” Dearing took a long breath. “Mallory stole the document from my study while you were at Amelia’s.”

  “The Middleton Railway investment.”

  She stated it so matter-of-factly, he was immediately taken aback.

  “How did you know?” He leaned in and kissed her hair, though his mind raced with answers to his question. “Did he speak of it to you?”

  “No.” She waited a beat too long. “He hinted at blackmail, so I assumed there was something he wanted.”

  A stretch of silence followed.

  “Jeremy?”

  The note of uncertainty in her voice snagged his attention. “Yes.”

  “I visited my father the morning before I riffled through the papers in your study.” She paused, reluctance tinging her words. “Before I found the box.”

  “And?”

  “He told me he never gave you the railway certificate.”

  “But that’s untrue, darling. I had it in my office in my desk drawer.” He wondered if she worried about their solvency. “It’s of no consequence to our future and you shouldn’t concern yourself. We’re more than financially secure.”

  “No. I don’t mean that. Please listen. Father had a copy made. An imitation certificate that you never questioned. He did this to protect me. I suppose he felt obliged to have some control, some tool to thwart you if you behaved dishonorably within our marriage. At least, that’s what he believed and explained to me when I visited.” She squirmed a little to twist out of his hold.

  Dearing released her shoulder and pushed back against the pillows. Did he understand his wife correctly? “So the stock certificate in my possession all these months was a reproduction?” A bark of ironic laughter escaped. “Mallory, the fool, has stolen a fake.”

  “Yes . . . well, no.” She shook her head. “Not exactly.”

  He sobered, unsure of what Charlotte tried to explain.

  “You had the false copy.” She clarified and hemmed her bottom lip in a moment of hesitant indecision. “You had it.” She nibbled harder.

  He thought the action endearing.

  She blew another breath and continued. “I was unhappy my father had so little faith in you and so I insisted on taking the genuine document from him. I threw the counterfeit stock into the fire and put the real certificate in your desk the day I searched. That was before I found the box hidden in the bookcase and ran off to Amelia’s house. Had I left things alone, Mallory would have stolen the worthless stock and not the one that holds value.”

  “You’ve no need to worry, love, despite the story being remarkable.” He pulled her back to his side and stroked the pad of his thumb over her lower lip in the spot where she’d worried it. “Faxman has all my accounts in order. Real or not, Mallory can’t lay claim to our funds or blackmail us. If he attempts anything nefarious or tries to sell the certificate, I will contact a Runner. He’s a fool who will get what he deserves. And regardless, even if he somehow proved himself the owner, you’re the only part of the marriage contract I truly wanted. I needed no stock certificate, incentive or dowry.”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners, as if she were sorting through a mental argument. “You’re not angry with my father?”

  “No. Not one bit. I commend the earl for his clever thinking. I’m impressed, in fact.” He leaned closer, their noses neatly aligned.

  “Or me?”

  “Never you.” The words heated the air between them.

  “But what will Mallory do?”

  “That’s another matter altogether.”

  * * *

  Charlotte approached the staircase at Dearing House, her steps tentative in her new heeled slippers. She imagined Dearing at the foot of the stairs, gazing up at her as she descended, her lacy ballgown the exact color of her eyes, her hair done up in an elaborate style. This was the first time they would attend a ball together, and her heart quickened at the thought of dancing with her handsome husband, whirling about the parquet floor in a graceful rhythm of a waltz. It was the last celebration of the Season and she smiled to herself, glad they would have this one night to mingle among society.

  Things had progressed swimmingly. Each day they became closer, more comfortable with each other, and while their nights were filled with passionate lovemaking, their days were often busy with cheerful conversation and jaunts about town. How everything had transformed so quickly was beyond belief. She held not one complaint about her dashing husband and knew Dearing House now as her home, the place she’d longed for at last a reality.

  Yet when she reached the newel post on the last step, Jeremy was nowhere to be found. Hudson was absent as well, and she wondered if Jill had misinformed her when the maid stated the carriage was ready and it was time to depart.

  Shadow scuttled past her hems in a swish of blue silk and ribbons. The cat had full run of the house, and Charlotte delighted in how she and Jeremy quibbled over their pet’s name. Jeremy insisted Shadow have nine names to match her nine lives. Charlotte stood
firm: two was more than enough.

  A tenor and distinct throat clearing drew her attention to the left hall. Hudson entered and placed a vase full of crimson roses on the entryway chiffonier. Mrs. Hubbles and two housemaids followed with additional vases, each with roses of extraordinary color and fragrance. Charlotte watched with eyes wide as the maids snuffed out several candles, all save one, left flickering in a brass lantern near the foyer, before they hurried away with Hudson and Mrs. Hubbles.

  The large windows above allowed ample moonlight, which lit the marble tiles with the shimmer of golden beams. Candlelight created an enchanting softness that seemed at odds with the manner in which her heart pounded in her chest.

  Then Jeremy entered in his formal attire, and she wondered if she wouldn’t swoon from the sight of him. Dressed in his finest velvet tail coat with ornate brass buttons, he looked every part the dashing gentleman. His Hessians were polished to a high gleam, his snug trousers fitted to exactitude and with his hair combed back, she was quick to note the wicked gleam in his eyes.

  “What is all this?” She was breathless and excited and a multitude of other wonderful emotions she couldn’t take time to label.

  “Tonight, at the ball, our first dance as husband and wife will occur in a room with more than one hundred people.” He came to stand before her and tilted up her chin with the press of his fingertip. “I found that unacceptable.”

  He didn’t say more but stepped back and extended his gloved hand.

  “May I have this dance, Lady Dearing?”

  He hadn’t used the formality in so long, and yet with it came none of the reminders of where their relationship had started and how far it had progressed. Instead, her heart applauded, her body filled with happiness down to her soul. She was his lady in every sense of the word.

  “It is my honor and pleasure, Lord Dearing.” She placed her fingertips within his and he swept her into his arms. His scent, masculine and spicy, filled her lungs, and she breathed deeply, longing to remember every detail.

  A single violin’s sweet melody filled the air. Her eyes shot over her husband’s shoulder, where in the shadowy corner a musician stood, stroking the bow across the strings to produce the loveliest serenade. Tears stung her eyes, the romantic gesture almost too much to bear.

  Jeremy had arranged this for her. Like the roses and the trip to the museum. Her husband was romantic and thoughtful, sensual and intelligent. She was the luckiest lady in London. In all the world.

  She gazed into his eyes, touched to see equal emotion in their depths, and naturally fell into step, the moment too precious to squander. His hand clasped her at the waist and she settled hers on his shoulder, the wool warm beneath her touch, her senses acutely aware of his every nuance.

  He inclined his head the slightest.

  “Forgive me if I have no clever conversation. Your beauty silences me. Even the smallest word seems out of place.”

  Her throat went thick with sentiment. “You needn’t say anything, my darling.”

  They danced across the tiles in absolute symmetry, their steps perfectly timed; yet, as they turned circle upon circle, it was as though her emotions wound tighter and her heartbeat raced faster. He watched too, his eyes never leaving hers. She noticed the flecks of gold in his eyes, the length of his lashes, the strong woodsy scent of his shaving soap. What did he see? Did he too imagine the future ahead, filled with enjoyable days and passionate evenings?

  The music ended too soon. She’d looked forward to the ball with eager anticipation, but now all she wished to do was stay home. To kiss her husband and feel his strength above her in their bed. To bring him pleasure in every way imaginable. Her mouth ached to taste him, touch him, love him as he loved her.

  “We should be off.” Dearing stopped dancing and traced a line down her jaw, the soft glide of his glove a sensual invitation.

  “We can stay home.” From the corner of her eye, she watched the violinist take his leave and Hudson return. Her husband had orchestrated a perfectly timed plan.

  “You don’t wish to allow me the privilege of showing London I have the most beautiful wife?” Dearing accepted her wrap from Hudson and tucked it neatly around her shoulders. “That is equally unacceptable.”

  She let out a squeak of protest, too awed by the activity around her to offer a rebuttal. Jeremy donned his top hat and Hudson opened the front door. A footman appeared to follow them out, and as Charlotte climbed into the carriage she wondered at the time. How soon could they return?

  “You’re wearing a frown. Has my surprise upset you?”

  The question was ridiculous of course, but how could she confess to her husband she’d rather they go upstairs to the bedchambers instead of greet society? Even now, under several layers of silk and linen, her body yearned with fraught sensitivity for his touch.

  “Not at all.” She gave him a smile.

  “Then you’re pleased.” He sat beside her and placed her hand within his.

  “Without a doubt.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, unable to look in his eyes as she continued speaking. “Although I’m already anticipating our return.”

  He chuckled, a deep, lovely sound that hummed within the interior of the carriage. “Ah, my shy wife has a secret of her own.”

  A startling revelation, that. The worst, their missteps and reconciliations, and best, falling in love, seemed perfectly in place now. The future was theirs to embrace. A lifetime of contentment and love.

  And when the carriage finally rolled to a stop before Compton House, Charlotte knew their arrival home would be all the more satisfying for the keen anticipation of what would transpire later that night.

  * * *

  Dearing exited the carriage and escorted Charlotte inside for formal introductions. The weather was fine, the evening entrancing and, in regard to his wife’s pleasure, the single dance they’d already shared worth every bit of effort.

  As expected, the ballroom was a crush. The end of the Season was near, and anyone wishing to be seen made haste to attend the last functions as their social calendars thinned and families vacated the city for their country estates.

  A quick scan of the room confirmed his prediction. Decadently dressed ladies conversed with men in their finest attire. Wallflowers hovered near the perimeter and waggish lads strutted past, testing their confidence. The Comptons’ elaborate decorations created an undeniably festive atmosphere, with an expanded orchestra ensemble to the left and a variety of refreshments near the right corner. Brightly uniformed livery served champagne and spirits from shiny trays and chaperones and dowagers clustered near the syllabub bowl, where they had a clear view of the dance floor.

  “Shall I pencil your name on my card?” Charlotte’s whisper grabbed his attention.

  “Write my name on every line.” His tease produced a delightful giggle.

  “You know that’s hardly acceptable.”

  She looked up, and the candlelight reflected in her irises, brilliant blue and sparkling, as lively as their banter.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t carry that silly card at all. I’m not sure I like the idea of other gentlemen vying for your attention, unless you welcome a dance with a rake in fine clothing.” He couldn’t help but return her smile.

  “I believe my escort fits that description best of all.”

  They might have continued their flirtation if Lindsey hadn’t sidled up, brandy in hand, droll smile in place.

  “Dearing.”

  “Lindsey.”

  “Lady Charlotte.” Lindsey took her gloved hand and placed a lingering kiss on her palm. “You’re even lovelier than I remember. It would appear marriage suits you. Why would Dearing bring you to this ridiculous crush when he could have you at home, all to himself?”

  Lindsey’s scandalous murmurings caused Charlotte’s face to pinken, although she wasn’t one to shy away. Among the many gifts of their newfound happiness, confidence seemingly bloomed within her.

  “I’ve wondered t
he same several times this evening.” Charlotte eyed Dearing with an impish grin. “Although my husband mentioned wanting society to see us happily about.”

  Lindsey inclined his head closer to Charlotte, and Dearing watched with restrained patience. “I thought his boastful nature was contained to business dealings and shrewd negotiations.” Lindsey surveyed the crowd expectantly. “Though I can’t blame him in this instance.”

  “Are you through maligning my character? I consider you a friend, but that’s subject to change.” Forcing the earl’s attention to their conversation, Dearing followed Lindsey’s line of sight and discovered Mallory across the room, engrossed in conversation with Adams. More than once, the men turned in their direction, a look of malevolence holding Mallory’s features tight as he stared toward the three of them. Dearing curled his hands into fists and struggled to maintain a look of amusement. Adams existed as nothing more than a nuisance and a reminder of foolish decisions made in the past, but Mallory presented a more difficult situation. With certainty, Mallory had an agenda to cause harm, and Dearing didn’t want anything to mar this evening for Charlotte.

  Unfortunately, his intuitive wife noticed the shift in his demeanor. “What is it?”

  “Nothing, love.” Dearing shot Lindsey a knowing glance. “The earl brings out the worst in me. An abrasive commentary and devil-may-care disposition will do that to anyone.”

  “As you say.” Undeterred and not insulted in the least, Lindsey drained his glass and set it on a passing footman’s salver. “Allow me a dance, Lady Charlotte. Mayhap I can redeem my reputation by escorting you through a feisty quadrille or Scottish reel. It’s said I’m quite the charmer on the dance floor.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As much as Dearing despaired at seeing his beautiful wife depart on Lindsey’s arm, it allowed him the opportunity to warn off Mallory. He wanted no part of an altercation and hoped whatever the instigation, it would be settled privately. Charlotte didn’t deserve a shred of humiliation, and no doubt Mallory already had fed the gossip mill with a tawdry dose of maligning fodder and fabrication in regard to their sudden marriage. With the music begun and Charlotte in Lindsey’s care, Dearing arrowed across the room, intent on resolving the issue before it became a bigger problem.