The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Charlotte looked at him doubtfully for a moment, her emotions warring within her over the kiss they had shared, the bad luck that had brought about their discovery, and the poor timing which had led them to be found together instead of Herbert and her.

  And that kiss...

  Had ruined her life utterly in a split second, she thought with an inward groan.

  But there was no doubting her father, she decided as she began to twitch her gown back into place, groaning inwardly at the thought of what she must look like. One peep at Mr Castlemaine's furious face told her he meant every word he said.

  Suddenly, the prospect of being ruined for the sake of love did not seem as attractive as it had once been when Herbert had persuaded her to run away with him.

  She pushed back her heavy fall of tumbled black tresses and sighed. Herbert too had let her down. He had convinced her to act against her better judgment, against all of her morals and principles. How could she have loved someone so unscrupulous?

  And yet, he had seemed so sincere, so in love with her. How could she have denied him?

  But where was he now? What on earth could she say to him if she was forced to confront him back at the house? How could she bear being without him?

  Marrying another?

  But another chilling though hit her. How could she bear being poor, alone and despised?

  She began to comb through her hair with her fingers to untangle the mass of gold ribbons as they all stood staring at her, awaiting her answer. Time was pressing, and her whole future was resting on the next words she would utter. Pray God they would be the right ones.

  She shivered against the wintry blast of wind that wafted around her and the Duke as they stood facing her family. Once again, the warmth of his hand seemed to spur her on.

  She had hoped to win her father around to her marriage to Herbert in the end. Now she saw it would be complete folly to try. He had high hopes for her. As did everyone. Now that the Duke had offered for her, her father would never countenance someone like Herbert, with so little to recommend him other than his charm.

  Moreover, she would never get such a chance ever again. What man would ever offer for a woman haughty or foolish enough to turn down a Duke?

  And it was truly all up with Herbert now. He would not want to be linked to her once the news was carried abroad that she had tried to elope with Thomas. It was a small community. There was bound to be talk, no matter what her father and the Duke had pledged regarding keeping mum. No amount of pleading that it had all been a terrible mistake was going to remedy the situation, of that she was certain.

  She had no real experience of the world. However, she certainly knew what happened to women who had lost their good name. Who were cast off by their families. Alone, without resources, the subject of scandal, ruined beyond redemption, unwelcome in any respectable household, they not only fell, but fell far, off the scale of decency altogether in many cases as they were forced to make ends meet in whatever manner they could.

  Charlotte had all the worldly accomplishments of a girl of her station in life, but few of them were practical enough to enable her to earn a living. Standing literally as well as figuratively at the crossroads, her whole future lay before her.

  She did have a choice. One unenviable, the other, full of material wealth beyond anything she had ever dreamed, with a duke no less. She had admired the duke well enough, as had every other woman in the county, but even in her wildest dreams, she had never thought to aim so high.

  She glanced around the crossroads, and knew time was of the essence. If they were seen together thus, it would be all up with her anyway.

  She took a deep breath, and steeled herself. She had to make the right choice now. There would be no going back from this one, and she might never be able to make another.

  The trouble was, there wasn't really much of a choice. She was trapped like a rabbit in a snare by the very Devil himself. She desperately thrust aside her inner whisperings which told her that he was indeed a most magnificent man. She summoned every remaining shred of her tattered dignity before she screamed and wailed in front of them all.

  With one last look at Thomas, Charlotte squared her jaw. "Very well. We shall go back to the house, and I shall marry the Duke of Ellesmere. Thank you for being so understanding, Father."

  His beetle brows knit. "Don't thank me yet. There is still much to do before I get you off my hands and all of this is concealed."

  Charlotte cringed in near horror at the phrase 'off my hands.' Was that really what her own father thought of her?

  "Very good," Thomas said with a bow, and kissed her hand. "Now, let's make haste before anyone departs from your birthday party and finds us out here like this."

  "Aye," Mr. Castlemaine said with a nod, and readied his mount.

  The Duke conducted Charlotte to the carriage, but at his officious manner, she balked, snatching her hand away as thogh she couldn't bear his touch.

  At once she felt bereft, which only made her more angry. She shot him a furious look and tried to step up by herself, but the floor was too high.

  She would have sprawled headfirst into the coach if Thomas had not caught her around the waist and lifted her under the arm. His hand came perilously close to her breast, and she felt it peak with delight. She jerked out of his grasp and dropped into the seat with a flounce, her face flaming.

  With a barely audible, "Thank you," she sat staring stonily ahead until the taller of her two cousins had seated himself and shut the door.

  The coachman whipped up the horses, and the carriage began to head back to the Manor. Only then did Thomas take the reins of Samuel's horse and mount.

  "Come along, young man. Don't dawdle. There is much to do and little time. That is, if you are in earnest about avoiding scandal."

  "I'm coming, sir. I give you my word, I shall do everything I can to protect your daughter. I will never give her cause to regret her decision this night."

  Satisfied at Thomas's good intentions, Mr. Castlemaine spurred his horse and led the way back to the Manor, with James following on behind the Duke to be sure he would not bolt.

  Thomas allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he followed the older man. His rescue mission had achieved its end. Charlotte was safe, for the moment at least. She most assuredly hated him, but she was at least out of danger for the present.

  Now he would have to ensure that the marriage took place as soon as possible. He dreaded the battleground his life was about to become, but he had no choice. Time was of the essence. He had absolutely no doubt that though Herbert Paxton had taken the money and might be gone now, he would most assuredly be back. For Charlotte, and for revenge upon him and his family.

  The Duke spurred his horse hard, and prayed to God that he could keep them all safe.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Charlotte remained silent throughout the short carriage ride back to the house. Her feelings were far too tumultuous to even attempt to discuss her seeming elopement with her cousin Samuel.

  At any rate he was glowering at her most disapprovingly. They had never been close. He and his brother James were both excellent young men, in a stolid, countrified way. Throwing herself on his mercy and begging for his help was not going to get her out of her predicament.

  She did her best to re-arrange her hair and gown, and sat back with a sigh. Her mind whirred, seeking some way out of this dreadful muddle. To think the Duke of Ellesmere of all people had taken such liberties! It was just too awful to contemplate. Herbert had been sorely mistaken in his friends.

  But perhaps she could find him, explain...

  Was he even now waiting at the end of the bridle path for her, waiting eagerly, hopefully? And did the poor lamb think that she had changed her mind? Oh, she had to go to him! It couldn't be too late! It couldn't!

  As soon as the carriage returned to the manor, she jumped out of the door of the carriage in a trice, determined to run back up the bridle path, but Samuel's firm grip on her
elbow put paid to her flight.

  It was too late, she knew that as soon as she caught sight of the look on his face. If her family were so irate about the Duke, they would certainly never forgive her for Herbert.

  "Stop squirming. You're making the horses nervous."

  "I'm sorry. It's cold."

  He gave her a withering glance. "Running about half naked all the time, 'tis no wonder. Come on. Quietly."

  They got out at the back of the stables, careful to ensure that they kept to the shadows. They made it to the back entrance of the house without incident, and slipped in unnoticed. After checking her appearance, her cousin gave her a little shove towards the stairs and told her to go up and change her dancing slippers.

  "Then come back down to take a turn around the floor with me," he ordered.

  She blanched. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly--"

  "For God's sake, try to look happy," he said, his fleshy lips thinning with disapproval. "It is your birthdaym after all. And you're about to marry one of the most eligible bachelors in England. You've managed to get everything you were angling for, and then some, didn't you, Missy, so you certainly have no cause to complain."

  She cast Samuel a look of outraged disgust, and marched up the servants' stairs, her back ramrod stiff. Happy, indeed. How on earth had this happened? How could such an error have come about? And how, how in the name of all that was holy, could she have behaved like such a complete wanton?

  But the Duke's kisses... And his warm hard hands... They were enough to drive even the sanest of women out of their minds with delight.

  She quashed that thought in an instant. It was too awful, too disloyal to her darling. Oh, what was she going to say to Herbert? She prayed fervently that he would not do anything desperate now that their desires had been thwarted.

  People died of broken hearts all the time, according to the current literature of the day. She could not bear it if he did away with himself a la Romeo. Though she had to admit to herself, she was no Juliet. She would not die for love. She would just have to make the best of the nightmarish situation which had come about so inexplicably.

  As Charlotte made her way up to her room, she began to wonder how her father had discovered her missing so soon after she had fled. If he hadn't followed so hard upon her heels, she might have been with Herbert by the time they caught up with them. Then she would have been marrying her intended, not this man who was little more than a stranger to her.

  The Duke was handsome enough, true, and exceptionally powerful by all accounts, but he was so, well, quiet... He never laughed, sang, danced if he could help it. He never gossiped or gambled that she could see. He had always appeared to look down his nose at her and her family. The very thought of marrying the Duke of all people was just too strange to contemplate.

  And yet she was going to have to do more than contemplate it, she was going to have to consummate it...

  Oh God, Herbert, she thought with a trembling sigh, once more toying with the idea of fleeing back down to the bridle path.

  But no. It was too late. All too late. If she valued her status in society and reputation, she had to stick to the course the Duke and her father had laid out for her, even if it was a cinder path which would bring her only misery.

  She slipped into her chamber without running into any guests or servants, and paced up and down in the prettily decorated pink and cream room for an instant in an agony of indecision. She trod to and fro in front of the mirror, wielding her hairbrush to tame her thick ebony tresses back into some semblance of order before she had to go downstairs once more and face the consequences of what had just occurred.

  "Think Charlotte, think," she muttered, yanking her hair up into a tight coil at the crown of her head. There was still time to rectify this appalling state of affairs, there just had to be. She would go to her father, explain what had really happened, no matter how awful it sounded. Anything had to be better than marrying a stranger when she loved another.

  Her hair now as ruly as she could make it without the help of her ladies' maid, she threw off her ruined white slippers and snatched up a pair of pale blue ones. She exchanged her gold satin sash for one which matched her new shoes.

  She reluctantly removed the elegant fan and reticule from her wrist, the most lovely she had ever owned, both presents from the Duke. She laid aside the ivory and lace confections with a sigh.

  She forced herself to harden her heart against them. They hadn't been the gifts of a kind stranger, but a man intent upon her ruin. She turned her back on them, trying to staunch the pang of genuine regret which rose up in her as she did so. Pausing only long enough to tie on her sash and shoes, she made a dash down the main stairs to her father's study. Just as she put her hand on the door latch, her cousin Samuel seized her arm.

  "They're all asking for you. You must come."

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he had already dragged her halfway to the ballroom. She could not put up a struggle in front of all of her guests. They joined the nearest set, and she performed the L'Ete figure of the quadrille mechanically whilst she scanned the room to see if anyone had taken especial note of her absence. She also desperately searched for Herbert, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Looking to her left, she caught sight of Thomas chatting with some of the older men of her father's acquaintance. They were bluff, hearty country types with florid complexions from too much sunshine and wine. She could just imagine their conversation. The price of corn, how their beeves were this year, and wasn't the Castlemaine girl a lovely little filly.

  She was no better than a piece of livestock to the Duke, of that she was sure. She wondered that he hadn't checked her teeth before agreeing to take her off her father's hands. No doubt he would be investigating the family tree to see if they were good breeders...

  She began to bristle again at the injustice of the circumstances she found herself in when the Duke caught her eye and winked.

  Charlotte stared, mouth agape. How could he be so audacious! She felt a complete fool as she wondered what his recollections were of their passionate interlude in the carriage.

  If she was being completely honest, she had enjoyed every second of being with him. But her wounded pride and resentment over her predicament made her insist that he was the most despicable, revolting...

  He took out his fob watch, looked at it, and began to excuse himself graciously from his companions. He started to head out of the room, no doubt to her father's study. She had one more chance to stave off disaster. Dare she take it?

  She stepped out of the set and away from Samuel's grasping hand.

  "Your Grace, pray dance with me."

  "Thank you. But time is pressing, Miss Castlemaine," he said with a bow. "I fear I have an important appointment, and my kind host must not be kept waiting in the circumstances."

  "Please," she whispered, "let me speak with you, get you to try to see reason before it's too late."

  He could not leave her standing there in such evident distress in front of all of her guests. Her color was high, her lovely blue eyes pooling brightly with unshed tears. He only hoped that speaking with her would not precipitate even more of a scene.

  He bowed again and took her hand, and swept her up into the nearest set, though it was down at the bottom of the room, and as such was for the lower orders rather than such a lofty personage as himself. But it was practically in the corner of the ballroom, and relatively private considering the crush of people at the party.

  The surprised couple at the top of the set gave way graciously, though the shock was evident on their faces.

  He and Charlotte began the La Poule figure. She noted as always that he was the most superb dancer, the best in the room the rare times he ever indulged. His hand in hers was so delightful, his body's nearness as compelling as a heady drug...

  She pulled herself up short at that thought, then plowed on through the figure once more, earning herself a look of surprise from the Duke, who held her ev
en more intimately.

  Once she felt sure-footed enough to speak, she took a deep breath and plunged.

  "I know you are no fool, sir, so I shall be forced to speak plainly," she said in a low tone. "I was supposed to elope this night, it's true, but not with you. I don't know where the other gentleman is now. Perhaps you do. I can understand you kissing me to, er, wish me well in my future happiness with your friend. It is thus that we were discovered, through no fault of your own. You were only trying to help your friend with his arrangements, nothing more.

  "All this being true, surely you cannot mean to marry me? It was all a mistake, and not one we should both be forced to have to make the best of. It is kind of you to try to rescue me from my father's wrath. But you cannot wish to be bound to me irrevocably. Not when you know full well that I'm in love with another."