Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Gentlemen of Intrigue Book 1)

by Samantha Grace

  “Never.” The countess winked at Regina. “Jasper realized early on it was an exercise in futility to try to talk me out of something when I’ve already set my mind to it.”

  Regina didn’t know why, but she felt like Lady Norwick might have set her mind to something involving Regina, and she wanted nothing to do with being the lady’s plaything. “I really should see to my aunt. She has a tendency to over-exert herself at times.”

  The ladies released her with reassurances that she should do what was best for her family.

  “Thank you,” Regina said, bemused by how amendable they were. Perhaps she’d misjudged them. Before she could bid them a good evening, she spied Aunt Beatrice strolling in their direction on Mr. Vistoire’s arm. Regina shifted her weight to her toes, poised to dash into the crowd before Aunt Beatrice found her. She refused to receive Mr. Vistoire politely while everyone observed.

  He had taken her in completely. He’d invaded Wedmore House. And the worst of it was, she had forgiven the reprobate. She had believed his apology was sincere and trusted he was leaving London. Therefore, he would never have had the chance to utter a word about surprising her at home alone.

  “There is my lovely niece.” Aunt Beatrice’s voice rang out in the ballroom. “She has not yet chosen a suitor, so you are in luck, sir.”

  Good Lord. Where was that trap door when Regina needed it?

  Ten

  Xavier wasn’t one to question good fortune or allow an opportunity to slip through his grasp. Yet, he broke into a light sweat as Miss Beatrice Allred lead him across the ballroom to present him to her niece. Partnering with Miss Darlington’s aunt for the waltz had not been by design, but that didn’t stop the annoying twinges of a guilty conscience from bedeviling him. It seemed he wasn’t above using her aunt to further his cause.

  He had hoped to cross paths with Regina Darlington this evening. Only five days remained until he was supposed to deliver the map. When he’d stepped outside of his sister’s house this morning to revel in his reclaimed freedom, he’d realized his cell had simply expanded. Two of the men who’d interrogated Xavier during his incarceration had been waiting at the corner. Neither spoke or made threatening gestures, but the warning was clear. As long as Farrin and the man financing him were alive, Xavier’s family was in danger, and so were the ladies of Wedmore House.

  But he had a plan.

  To gain access to Lord Wedmore’s town house, he would court Miss Darlington. To protect her, he must persuade her to marry him. Unfortunately, he’d falsely confessed to being a rake set on seducing her. The odds of winning her hand were not in his favor.

  “Where did that girl disappear to? I know she was just there.” Aunt Beatrice, as she insisted he call her, dug her fingers into his forearm as if she was worried he might try to escape and tugged him in another direction. She was as marriage-minded as any mother trying to arrange a match for her daughter, and she was determined to catch a husband for her niece. “I expect you will fall head over heels for her in no time.”

  He chuckled, despite the nearly cannonball-sized knot settling in his gut. He’d already fallen for Miss Darlington. And cracked his skull in the process. The true challenge would be making her fall for him.

  Aunt Beatrice drew to a sharp halt. Her face scrunched as she looked up at him. Her nose twitched every time she blinked. “You are a delightful dancer, Mr. Vistoire, but do the ladies find you handsome?”

  “Now, Aunt Beatrice, how can I to answer honestly without appearing vain?”

  She hooted with scandalized laughter and squeezed his arm. “Charming and clever. There she is. Wait here while I retrieve her.”

  The lady released her grip on him and disappeared into the crowd. She waved at a young woman who didn’t seem to know her. The lady’s forehead puckered in confusion as Aunt Beatrice elbowed a path through the bodies standing in her way and called out to her.

  Xavier shook his head in amused disbelief. While he waited for Aunt Beatrice to discover her mistake, he allowed himself the pleasure of watching the real Miss Darlington gracefully weave toward a set of French doors on the far side of the room. Her gown shimmered under a waterfall of diffuse light from a massive brass chandelier. The rosy hue lingered somewhere between pink and crimson and lent her cheeks a healthy glow while the silk hugged the gentle curve of her bosom.

  When she reached the open doors, she paused and locked eyes with him. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. His breath churned thickly in his lungs. “Enchanteresse,” he murmured.

  Her pink tongue darted over her plump bottom lip, leaving her mouth shiny and as tempting as sin. Slowly, she turned away and slipped outside.

  Xavier tensed. Where the devil is she going? The gardens at night were no place for a lady, with or without an escort. He started toward the doors to talk some sense into her and see her safely back inside, but another man reached the exit first. He shot into the dark in quick pursuit.

  Damnation.

  Xavier shoved through the maze of bodies, earning several disparaging words, but he didn’t allow their censorship to slow him. Miss Darlington’s pursuer outweighed her by several stones. She’d not be able to defend herself for long against him if he caught her.

  When Xavier stepped outside, a humid breeze washed over him. Pierced tin lanterns lined the stone railing around the empty terrace, casting splattered dots of light across the surface. He sprinted down the stairs and halfway into the gardens before he stopped to listen for signs of where Miss Darlington had gone.

  The hypnotic trill of crickets was broken by a sharp crack of a stick deeper in the garden. Xavier hurried toward the sound, moving as quietly along the gravel path as possible. A white dome nestled among the trees in a corner of the garden shone like a beacon in the darkness. As he continued along the gently curving path, the entire structure and its occupants came into view.

  He could make out Miss Darlington in her light colored gown and the darker shadow of the man. They were facing one another as if in conversation, but Xavier was too far away to hear their exchange. The man lunged; she squealed in surprise. His huge arms circled her waist, dragging her against him.

  A guttural growl rose in Xavier’s throat. Before he could charge the portico, small hands closed around his wrist. The shock of someone jumping from the bushes brought him to a full stop. The woman beneath the portico laughed and threw her arms around the man’s neck to draw him to her for a kiss.

  “Mr. Vistoire,” a voice hissed. “Come.”

  It was Miss Darlington tugging his arm. He stopped resisting and followed her into the heavy vegetation. “What are you—?”

  She shushed him. “Come.”

  He glowered. Did she think he was a pooch to order about? “No, you come with me.” He changed their course to prove he had a mind of his own.

  She allowed him to lead the way while still holding onto his wrist. When they were a safe distance from the portico, she asked, “Do you know where you are going?”

  “Not really.”

  She planted her feet. He stopped and turned toward her. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see her pretty face. She notched her chin. “If you don’t know where you are going, why are you leading?”

  Her defiant stance fanned his smoldering temper to flames. “The better question is why are you sneaking around the gardens alone? Have you no sense?”

  He was truly beginning to believe that was the case. First, she’d kept him secreted away at Wedmore House instead of summoning a runner, and now she was risking body and reputation for what? If he’d interrupted her own tryst, he might be unable to refrain from taking her over his knee.

  “I am not alone,” she said in a reasonable tone that did nothing to dispel his temper. “I wanted to speak with you in private.”

  “And how did you know I would follow you?”

  She gestured toward him with a flourish of her hand.

  He gritted his teeth. She did believe he was no better than a pooch conten
t to run after her. The worst of it was he had chased after her, and he would do it again. Not because he needed to charm his way back into Wedmore House. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man laying hands on her.

  “You are fortunate it was me following you and not some rake meaning to do you harm.”

  She scoffed. “That is hypocritical considering you are as rakish as any man I know.”

  “What have I done to earn such a reputation? Aside from becoming foxed and wandering into Wedmore House, I mean.”

  “You did not wander, sir. You broke the lock on the backdoor.”

  “Yes, well, other than those unfortunate actions... Did I not behave like a gentleman while you played nursemaid to me? I admitted I made a mistake. I wasn’t myself that evening. And you are deflecting, Miss Darlington. What if you had been set upon by a true scoundrel?”

  “I am capable of defending myself, and I didn’t lure you outside to lecture me. Please, come with me.” Taking his hand, she urged him deeper into the garden, away from the house and other guests. Curiosity overrode his pride; he didn’t resist.

  Neither of them spoke as they weaved through several mulberry bushes, passed a small pond covered in lily pads, and walked beneath a rose-laden trellis. When they reached what Miss Darlington apparently felt was a comfortable distance from the house, she dropped his hand and spun on her heel. Her fists landed on her hips.

  “Imagine my surprise at finding you here. Aren’t you supposed to be on a ship, sir?”

  She was no more surprised than he was.

  “Change of plans,” he said.

  “Change of plans?” She bristled. “You promised no one would learn about the incident at Wedmore House. You swore your servant would never have a chance to speak of our encounter, because you were leaving immediately. You said your sister was in New Orleans and needed you. Do you think me a fool? Serafine Tucker moved to London my first Season.”

  Why must she recall every detail of what he’d said? He had enough trouble without adding a too-clever woman to the mix. “I had only arrived in London that evening, and I lost contact with my sister for a long time. I didn’t know she was in England until the night I left Wedmore House. An old friend told me.”

  Old friend. The lie was bitter on his tongue. With friends like Farrin, he’d rather become a hermit.

  “How can I to believe anything you say when I’ve already caught you in a lie?" she asked. “I maintain you are just another scoundrel dogging my heels this summer. Perhaps you believe without Uncle Charles around to discourage you that I am helpless. I assure you, I am not, as one lord who shall remain nameless learned when he tried to force himself on me.”

  The fire inside him blazed hotter. A rolling whoosh filled his head. He would kill the man. “Give me the blackguard’s name. I will rip him limb from limb. I’ll challenge every bloody rogue who has been bothering you until they’ve all been put in the ground. I want names. Now.”

  “Goodness,” she said on a wisp of breath and held a hand to her head. “I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded serious.”

  He blinked. Her unexpected response caused him to forget his righteous anger for a moment. “Pardon?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I never learned to speak French fluently.”

  He hadn’t realized he’d stopped speaking English.

  “I am afraid I spent more time avoiding my lessons than it would have taken me to complete them,” she said. “I was too young to recognize the value, and my governess was not insistent.”

  “I see.”

  “I learned a few words, but not enough to read or speak your language with any proficiency. I know petit bâtard.”

  Little bastard. “You learned profanity. From your governess.”

  “Of course not! I learned it from the milkman. He shouts the word at Cupid every time he rushes the door.”

  Xavier lifted a brow. Was she trying to distract him? If so, her tactic wouldn’t work. “I want the scoundrels’ names.”

  “Whatever for? Do you fancy you will challenge them?” She shook her head and released a humorless laugh. “The gossips would stay busy for days speculating on the nature of our association.”

  “If you truly believed I would take advantage of you or worried about rumors, you wouldn’t have brought me to the gardens.”

  “I would if I wanted to confront you without an audience. Besides, no one knows we are here.”

  “Yes, Miss Darlington, we are alone.” He drew out the last word and allowed a sinuous smile to ease across his face. “In the garden. With no one to interrupt us.”

  She stiffened when he took a step forward. “I can defend myself, sir.”

  “Even against seduction?” He slowly closed the distance between them.

  The sharp intake of her breath and her hand on his chest gave him pause. A good fright might set her straight, but he didn’t want her to fear him. He held still, waiting for the slightest pressure from her to demand his retreat.

  Her fingers curled to lightly grip his jacket. She lifted her gaze and licked her lips. His heart slammed beneath her palm. The warmth of her touch spread to his blood. It ran fast and hot through his veins.

  Merde. Who was seducing whom?

  The temptation to touch her, to feel her lush mouth beneath his, strummed inside him. His body trembled with fading restraint. Her lips parted as he stroked his thumb along the curve of her cheek. She desired his kiss as much as he hungered for hers, but surrendering would not prove he was different from the men who wanted to conquer her.

  Nevertheless, her allure was powerful, and he was no saint. He placed a kiss at her temple, lingering and savoring her sweet scent. “I think we are fortunate I do not want to seduce you, Miss Darlington.”

  She frowned when he drew back to look into her eyes. “Why not?”

  Her affronted tone made him smile. “Because I want to court you.”

  “Well, I don’t welcome your courtship, Mr. Vistoire.”

  “Perhaps not.” He slid his thumb over her protruding lower lip and a puff of warm breath fluttered over his skin. “But I think we both know you want to be in my bed as much as I want you there, and I will only take you as my wife.”

  The strength of his conviction shook him. Yes, he wanted to protect her, and marriage was the most effective means available to him, but he wanted much more from her. He hadn’t realized what had been missing in his life until they had sparred that night at Wedmore House. He needed someone who understood him—someone who recognized when he was on the verge of taking the wrong path, a good woman to challenge him to make the correct choice. He was determined to become a better man. Otherwise, he didn’t deserve Regina.

  “I don’t want to marry you,” she whispered as her eyes closed. She lifted her face as if seeking his kiss.

  God, he wanted what she was offering in the worst way, but he would fail her if he surrendered to the temptation.

  Releasing her, he stumbled back a step. “If you do not want to be caught in the parson’s noose, you had best return to the house before someone discovers us and forces your hand. I’d prefer to do this properly, but I will take you either way.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides and scowled. “I’ll not welcome you at Wedmore House. Do not waste your time calling.” Spinning on her heel, she stormed back toward the house.

  “If you are half as welcoming as you were a moment ago, I’ll have no cause for complaint.”

  “Petit bâtard,” she tossed over her shoulder before disappearing from sight.

  Xavier chuckled under his breath. Regina Darlington had fire in her. He could understand why the rakes were drawn to her like moths to a flame, but he’d be damned if they got within ten feet of her again.

  Eleven

  Regina rubbed the grittiness from her eyes the next morning as she descended the oak stairs at Wedmore House. She’d suffered another sleepless night, thanks to Xavier Vistoire and his preposterous claim that he wanted to marry he
r. Did he fancy himself in love after only a week?

  “Ha,” she scoffed, but an infinitesimal trill originated beneath her breastbone. She hugged herself to contain the exhilaration building inside her. Decisions shouldn’t be based on the whims of one’s body. She never ate a whole apple pie when her sweet tooth demanded satisfaction, and she refused to marry a blasted scoundrel just because her blood ran hotter when he was near. Besides, he’d probably want to take her back to America, and that would never do.

  “Enough of Mr. Vistoire,” she muttered and forced her thoughts to more pressing concerns. She had a household to run. Wedmore House was without a butler, which meant she had no one to turn away Mr. Vistoire if he called this afternoon. Much to her displeasure, she must face him again, for no matter how mortifying a future encounter might be, she wouldn’t ask her sisters for help. Evangeline and Sophia would demand an explanation, and she’d rather cut out her tongue than admit to leading Mr. Vistoire into Lady Norwick’s gardens only to accuse him of trying to seduce her.

  She’d behaved like a lunatic last night, and Mr. Vistoire had responded with threats to make her his wife. She shook her head in bewilderment. He was battier than she if he showed up today.

  Upon reaching the ground floor, she headed toward the library in search of her sister. Evangeline was helping her draft an advertisement for the vacant butler position this morning, and Regina hoped to drop it by the printer’s shop in time for the advertisement to be included in tomorrow’s newssheet. She found Evangeline exactly where she was most mornings—bent over papers fanned across the colossal mahogany table in the center of the library.

  “What are you studying?” Regina asked.

  Her sister’s head shot up with a soft gasp. Her auburn hair was fashioned into a knot on top of her head, but several riotous ringlet curls had escaped to frame her face. “Nothing.” She raked the papers into a pile with both hands, her gaze darting guiltily to the stack in front of her. “I mean, the same notes I’ve been studying. Nothing new.”