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

by Samantha Grace

  Damn.

  Had Farrin sent another man after he’d agreed to wait? Xavier shouldn’t be surprised since the blackguard was a criminal.

  He blew out the candle, sprang toward the chamber door for a better defensive position, and bumped his thigh on Lord Wedmore’s side table. Something heavy banged against the floor.

  The footsteps stopped outside the chamber door.

  Xavier froze, not daring to make a sound as he waited for the enemy to decide if he’d heard something more than the dog barking. Every sound was amplified—the jagged whooshing of his breath, the pulsing beat of his heart in his ears, and Cupid’s nails scraping wood in the room next door.

  When the handle jiggled, he leapt behind the door, prepared to attack. The door wafted open, but no one entered. Xavier held his breath, his muscles taut. He felt more than saw the man step into the room. There was a subtle shift in the air. It was warmer, electrified.

  Xavier pounced, trapping the intruder’s arms against his sides. A gasp tore from the man. He was a wiry fellow—small framed like a lad—but he bucked and clawed with the ferocity of a wild cat. His head slammed into Xavier’s chin. Pins of light burst in the darkness, and Xavier’s grip slipped. In the distance, Cupid’s barking grew frantic.

  The captive twisted in Xavier’s hold, and he clamped his arms tighter around the lad’s waist. A foot slammed into Xavier’s knee. He shouted in surprise as fiery pain radiated into his thigh and shin. They stumbled, Xavier fighting to stay on his feet. He lost the battle. They careened forward to slam against the edge of the mattress.

  Xavier landed on top with his arms trapped between his opponent and the bed. His face was buried in silky hair that smelled faintly of oranges, and the soft mounds of a well-formed derriere shimmied beneath him as his captive tried to break free.

  Merde! He’d captured a woman.

  Light flickered at the doorway followed by the ominous click of a gun cocking. “Step away from my niece, so I don’t accidentally shoot her instead.”

  Candlelight illuminated the gold spun hair of the woman beneath him. “Regina?”

  Her breath caught and she ceased her struggles. He eased his arms from around her waist, lifted his hands into the air, and cautiously turned to face Aunt Beatrice and her small pistol. Evangeline stood slightly behind her aunt with a candlestick raised to cast light into the room. Her eyes were round and her mouth agape.

  What the devil were they doing here? He’d seen them leave for the ball. They were supposed to be at the ball.

  “Madame, this situation is not as it seems. There has been a misunderstanding. An accident.”

  Regina moved behind him to sit on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t bear to look at her after what he’d done.

  Her aunt pursed her mouth into a tight circle and drew her wrapper tighter around her body. “I do not know what matter of conduct is practiced in America, Mr. Vistoire, but in England, we do not mistake assault for an accident. Evangeline, have Deacon retrieve a Runner.”

  Regina’s sister seemed oblivious to her aunt’s command and remained rooted to the floor.

  Aunt Beatrice waved the barrel of the firearm at him. “Move aside, so there is no risk of shooting my niece if the pistol should fire by itself.”

  Her steely glare suggested it would be no accident if she shot him. Xavier swallowed hard. He wouldn’t allow Regina to be harmed. “All right, I am moving.” With his hands raised, he shuffled to the side.

  “Wait!” Regina bolted from the bed to place herself between him and her aunt’s pistol.

  “Regina,” he said with a growl.

  Aunt Beatrice averted her aim, pointing the barrel toward the floor. Xavier grabbed Regina by the shoulders and wrestled her behind him. Why couldn’t she just be agreeable for once? “Stay put.”

  Regina’s aunt frowned in their direction. “What is going on here? Regina, was this man trying to assault you or not?”

  “He was not. He...he was...”

  Aunt Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. “I see what was occurring now.”

  “It’s not what you think, Auntie.” Desperation clung to Regina’s words and drove him to protect her.

  “We are betrothed,” he blurted.

  Regina gasped.

  Aunt Beatrice and Evangeline must have been as shocked as she was. No one spoke for a long time. Eventually, Regina’s aunt found her voice.

  “Is this true, dearest? Because if it is not, I will see him taken to gaol.”

  “It’s true.”

  “You really are betrothed?” Aunt Beatrice’s mouth hinted at a smile. “Mind you, I do not approve of such activities before the vows are spoken, but I was young once.”

  “No, we weren’t—”

  Regina lightly punched him in the back. He grunted in surprise. She came forward, dropping her head and posing as a contrite young miss when she’d done nothing wrong. He ground his teeth in frustration. He didn’t want her family believing lies about her.

  “Forgive us, Auntie,” she said. “I only wanted to show Mr. Vistoire the wooden dummy Uncle Charles had built for me. It seemed only fair that my betrothed should be informed of my unusual interests.”

  Aunt Beatrice nodded. The firearm dangled in her limp hand at her side. “A wise choice. And what is Mr. Vistoire’s opinion of your Wing Chun?”

  “He approves.” Regina injected a good deal of enthusiasm into her lie. Not that he objected outright to her unladylike exercises, but they’d never had the conversation. “He wants to have a dummy built as a wedding gift. One I may take wherever we set up house. That is the reason I brought him above stairs. Then we—uh—we lost our heads.”

  Evangeline’s auburn brow arched, but she kept quiet.

  “Well, that is a different kettle of fish.” Aunt Beatrice disengaged the trigger and passed the pistol to Evangeline. “I understand the reason you brought your young man upstairs, but why are you in your uncle’s chambers?”

  Xavier hated that the burden of explaining his presence fell on Regina. He placed his hand on the small of her back. “I misplaced my watch. I thought I might have left it in Lord Wedmore’s room when I changed into a dry shirt the other day.”

  Regina stiffened.

  Splendid. He’d just dug them into a deeper hole.

  “I see.” Regina’s aunt drew out the last word and crossed her arms. Her glower was piercing. He’d likely be gasping out his last breath if her silent wish were granted. “I think it is best not to delay the nuptials under the circumstances. I’ll not have any gossips questioning my niece’s reputation when a babe comes early.”

  Regina groaned and buried her face in her hands. He drew her close, wanting to shield her from this mortifying situation. “There will be no issue arriving early, ma’am.”

  The woman sniffed. “I would rather not leave it to chance, sir. Tomorrow I will summon Lord Margrave. He has connections that will enable you to receive a special license.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “Arrive on our doorstep at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, or you will rue the day. Lord Margrave has many connections. Lord Margrave has many connections—some you would prefer never to meet, so do not test me.”

  Xavier strained to maintain a polite smile. “I will be here.”

  “Very good.” She held out her hand to Regina. “Help me back to bed. Your sister will see Mr. Vistoire to the door.”

  Regina rushed forward to offer her arm to her aunt. Aunt Beatrice grimaced and leaned against her as she limped from the room. Once they exited, Evangeline waved for him to follow her.

  They didn’t speak as she led him down the main staircase, but she kept slanting odd looks in his direction. When they reached the front door, he couldn’t stand not knowing the meaning behind her stolen glances. He planted his feet, refusing to be tossed out or judged by a slip of a woman.

  “Is there something you would like to say, Miss Evangeline?”

  She shrugged. “I am simply trying to understand why my sister lied for you
.”

  “What makes you believe she was lying? We formed a secret agreement yesterday after the picnic. It was only a matter of time before we planned to speak with your aunt.”

  Evangeline shook her head as if she couldn’t fathom his gall. “I know all about what occurred after the picnic, and I was with Regina tonight when we heard you moving around upstairs. We thought it was Aunt Beatrice, and Regina went to look in on her.” She glared. “If you hurt my sister, Lord Margrave’s connections should be the least of your concerns.”

  For the love of St. Peter, the English were keen on threats. And he’d had enough. Squaring his jaw, he leaned toward her slightly to speak in a quiet voice. “I am trying to keep all of you safe.”

  Evangeline’s eyes expanded. “What is your meaning?”

  He’d said enough already. “I will speak with my betrothed tomorrow. Good night, mademoiselle.” He sketched a bow then strode from Wedmore House with his head foggy on how he’d created such a mess.

  Eighteen

  Regina winced when she spotted Evangeline at the bottom of the staircase. Her sister’s arms were crossed, and the rapid slap of her slipper against the marble floor announced her impatience. She was waiting for answers.

  “Aunt Beatrice is tucked into bed,” Regina said as she descended the stairs in an attempt to delay the inevitable. “She insisted on a nip of brandy first. In this case, a nip was the same as the two fingers Uncle Charles pours for himself. I don’t expect Auntie will be up and about anymore tonight.”

  Evangeline pounced the second Regina’s toes touched the ground floor. “You lied for him.”

  “What would you have had me do? Aunt Beatrice was going to summon Bow Street.”

  “Of course she was. Auntie thinks he compromised you. I think we are lucky she didn’t shoot him.”

  “Yes, well. I’m certain you understand the reason I misrepresented the truth.”

  Evangeline maintained her implacable stance. “Misrepresented the truth. Lied. It is one in the same.”

  With a groan, Regina pushed past her sister to return to the sitting room, where they had been reading before she went upstairs to investigate the noise.

  “We are not finished.” Evangeline dogged her heels all the way to the sitting room. “I don’t give a fig about the moral implications. My point is you acted to protect him, and now you are betrothed. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know.” Regina pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. “And I wasn’t protecting him. I was thinking of Sophia.” Her claim might be more convincing if she hadn’t thrown herself between him and Aunt Beatrice’s pistol. She hadn’t made a rational choice, but she didn’t know how to explain the stab of panic in her chest when she’d seen the gun’s barrel aimed at him. She didn’t fully understand it herself.

  Regina plopped onto the sofa and held her head with both hands. “If a Runner had been summoned, what is to say he would have left before Lord and Lady Seabrook carried Sophia home from the ball? Our sister would have been embarrassed, and I would have been mortified. We picnicked with Xavier yesterday. How long would it take before the gossips began to speculate on the real reason he was found in Wedmore House?”

  Evangeline sat on the sofa beside her and rubbed Regina’s back like their mother had done to soothe them when they were ill or overwrought. “I understand,” her sister said in a quiet voice, “but you shouldn’t have to marry to protect our reputation. Love is the only sound reason.”

  Regina lifted her head and sent a half smile in her sister’s direction. She’d had no idea Evangeline was such a romantic. Her sister had always seemed too practical and focused on intellectual pursuits to entertain romantic ideals.

  “I cannot say with certainty that a desire to protect our family name is fully responsible for my actions. When I saw Aunt Beatrice aiming at him...” A wave of nausea swept through her. “What if the firearm had discharged? His family loves him the same as you, Sophia, Aunt Beatrice, and I love each other. Little Simon—” Her throat squeezed off her words.

  Regina had been eight and Evangeline almost seven when their parents were killed. At the age of four, Sophia barely remembered them. Simon would be too young to hold on to any memories of his uncle. Regina couldn’t be part of stealing an important piece of the boy’s past and future.

  “Nothing happened, Gigi. Mr. Vistoire is safe, and he’ll be back at our door before you know it. What are you going to do about him?”

  “I wish I knew.” Perhaps there was nothing she could do except marry him. Her unsophisticated heart raced at the thought even though she had enough sense to realize tying herself to him would be a mistake. She would never trust him after tonight.

  “What do you suppose he is after?” Regina asked. “He thought we were at the ball, so his explanation for the first time he broke into Wedmore House is clearly a lie.”

  “But he is not lying about caring for you. You should have seen his face when you shielded him with your body. He was scared witless.”

  Regina shook her head; the backs of her eyes burned. With Aunt Beatrice’s fall and now this, she was spent. “He had a pistol trained on him. Of course he was frightened.”

  “Not until that moment. His feelings for you are not a lie.” Evangeline nibbled her bottom lip, and Regina could almost see her turning over the evening’s events in her head. “It is a peculiar situation to be sure—his breaking into the house again. Before he left this evening, he said something odd. He said he is trying to protect us.”

  Regina blinked. “Protect us how?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me. He said he would speak with you tomorrow.”

  The front door hinges squeaked, and Sophia’s voice carried into the sitting room. “Please thank your mother again for allowing me to accompany you this evening.”

  “We were pleased to have you, Sophia.” Apparently, her best friend had walked her to the door. “Will your aunt be well enough to attend Lady Wexbert’s at-home tomorrow?”

  “I’m uncertain. She could be laid up for several days.”

  “Then you must join us. Mama will insist.”

  Regina allowed herself a brief smile. Seeing Sophia’s desire for a normal life being fulfilled lightened Regina’s burden for a moment. The front door closed and the lock tumbled. A bit later, her youngest sister swept into the room.

  “Good. You waited to retire for bed.” Her cheeks were rosy, and she sounded slightly breathless. “I kept watch for Mr. Vistoire all evening, but he never made an appearance.”

  Evangeline shifted away from Regina on the sofa and casually asked, “How was Lady Ellis’s ball?”

  “Oh, you know what it is like. I barely sat the whole night.” Sophia flounced to a chair adjacent to the sofa and plopped onto it. “My feet are aching terribly.” She propped her ankle over her knee, removed her satin slipper, and kneaded the sole of her foot.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, achy feet aside?” Regina asked.

  “Very much.” Sophia’s smile revealed the dimple in her cheek. She was the most beautiful of the Darlington Angels, as Society had dubbed them. Her full dance card did not come as a surprise. “Lord Ingram partnered with me for two dances, and he hinted that he wishes to call on our uncle when he returns. Did we receive any word from Uncle Charles today?”

  Typically, Sophia raced to collect the post when the carrier arrived, but Aunt Beatrice’s accident had caused quite a commotion that afternoon.

  Regina shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dearest.”

  “Oh.” The twinkle in her eyes dimmed, and her shoulders drooped slightly. Regina’s sister needed Uncle Charles’s permission to marry since she had not reached her majority—unlike Regina, who might become a bride in a matter of hours if Crispin could help to procure a special license.

  She cleared her throat, hesitant to share her news. “There has been a development this evening.”

  Sophia’s head shot up. “Is Aunt Beatrice all right?”

  “She is aslee
p and well.”

  “Well enough to brandish a pistol and threaten a man,” Evangeline said.

  Regina aimed a look at her that promised an unpleasant outcome if she continued this conversation.

  Evangeline shrugged one shoulder. “I see no reason to misrepresent the truth.”

  Regina supposed she wouldn’t. Her sister had never even mastered the art of the white lie to protect one’s feelings. Regina could hardly expect her to hold her tongue now.

  “I wanted to be gentle,” Regina said. “Not to withhold the truth.”

  Sophia rested her hands in her lap, so proper and refined these days. “There is no need to be gentle. Whatever you have to say will not send me running to my chambers in tears.”

  Perhaps a couple of years ago her sister would have reacted in such a manner, but at nineteen, she was more mature than many young ladies her age. Regina wasn’t worried about shocking Sophia. She didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings by brusquely announcing she was getting married when Sophia had to wait indefinitely for Uncle Charles’s return.

  Regina took a cleansing breath before continuing. “Xavier didn’t attend Lady Ellis’s ball, because he was at Wedmore House.”

  Noting Evangeline’s raised brows, Regina opted to tell Sophia all that had transpired before Evangeline delivered the details with her characteristic lack of delicacy. At the end of Regina’s tale, Evangeline recounted her own encounter with Mr. Vistoire when she saw him to the door.

  Sophia tipped her head to the side, studying Regina and revealing no hint of what she was thought of the news. “Will you follow through with the wedding?”

  “I don’t see that I have a choice.”

  “You always have a choice, Gigi,” Sophia said. “Aunt Beatrice will understand if you cry off. Can you marry someone you don’t trust?”

  Regina settled on complete honesty. “No.”

  “Then you must speak with him alone. Unless he tells you the truth, and you are satisfied with his answer, you cannot marry him.”